#and deal with my terrible spelling and run in sentences. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

12pt-times-new-roman · 1 year

Text

c3e62

The party heads off through the wilderness toward Hevestro's place of residence. The first day's travel goes by without issue.

Ashton asks Orym to guide them through a meditation. "I've decided it's time to start thinking aobut my situation... how I got here, what it means, what happened to me. The Hishari shit, the helmet... yesterday kind of threw me, a couple of days ago kind of threw me, and I'm trying to recenter." Both of them are starting to wonder what fixing looks like, what it might mean, and both are doubting whether anything can be fixed at all.

"I think the best we can do right now is, if you see me go down, pick me back up, and I'll do the same for you."

Knowing that they deal with pain, Orym starts to slowly massage the palm of Ashton's hand, in that pressure point that relieves migraines (I think?).

Prism inscribes a couple runes onto Bordor's crossbow. Runes are just the containers and foci for magic instilled within them, so she puts a 4th level dragon's breath into it; when Denise fires it, it gives off a gout of flame, but the magic is expended. Because of the solstice, the runes can hold a spell for a short time and expend that spell when fired, but after a time the magic will dissipate.

"So you studied for years and never cast a spell, and Bordor, you only kept sheep and had never cast a spell, so really you're on the same playing field?" Orym calling out both Prism and Bordor in the same sentence in the nicest way possible is the most on-brand thing--

Prism has the sacred flame cantrip. She could only have gotten this from a magical item or from the magic initiate feat.

Bordor casts calm emotions on Ashton, and that ever-present anxiety and bubbling anger that exists in the back of their mind just fades away. They have a similar reaction as Imogen when she put the circlet on.

During the next day of travel, they come upon a lush, crater-like formation in the landscape, and in the middle they find a petrified skeleton that's embedded in the stone. By extracting the skeleton, they deduce that this was a githzerai who was placed here intentionally and then impacted by a meteorite as a form of punishment. They also find a ring made of an unfamiliar (likely meteoric) metal; identify reveals it as a ring of volcanic flesh, which gives the wearer +1 AC. It also has 3 charges; when the wearer is dealt fire damage, they can expend a charge to reduce the damage, and when the wearer is hits with an attack they can expend a charge to add both fire damage and knockback to the attack.

Prism also determines that the impact likely happened for hundreds of years -- long enough for the undergrowth to equalize.

Talisein "what the fuck is up with that?" Jaffe has gotten ahold of a pipe that re-enacts the smoker's greatest achievement in smoke clouds. Prism's is a memory of her essentially showing off to a mage and impressing them so much they offer to bring her back to the Cobalt Soul, and thereby escaping the gloom of the Shadowfell.

On the second night's watch, Orym sees dozens of little spirits floating around them that seem oddly, unnaturally comforting. He wakes up Prism, who identifies them as local spirits of the woods who are growing more comfortable with the party's presence as they spend more time in the forest. As Orym runs through the Zeph'erahtam, the spirits gather and swirl around him, almost like a cloud of fireflies.

"There is something about the nature, the energy here that is both ancient and playful." Orym thinks about how, even in the most terrible times, moments of levity and happiness still exist, and must be appreciated all the more when they are bookended by hardship and strife.

"Are your friends as powerful as you are?" (Ashton, Orym, and Laudna all:) "More."

Matt just straight-up gave Prism a 1,000gp mirror that she can use as the material component for scrying.

Prism casts it for the first time on Bordor's brother. She finds herself in an empty cabin with furniture. Dark, shaded, vacant. Nearby, there are some leatherworking tools and hand hides; she sees no signs of a "sick person" being there, and Bordor notes that this cabin is where his brother stays but the way he says it implies that this house is separate from Bordor's own.

At the end of this day of travel, Prism attempts to scry on Ludinus. As expected, her consciousness gets stuck in the grey expanse of clouds, like it hit a wall -- he's warded against divination, presumably similarly to the rest of the Assembly, their annexes, and the Volstrucker.

"You think the six of you are strong enough to stop a god-killer?" "I don't think of it that way... I would feel pleased if we slapped [Ludinus], or at least got some people who shouldn't be there out [of there]."

Laudna thinks they've become numb to killing after having killed a few dozen people. Can someone give me a count on how many sapient humanoids Vox Machina and the Mighty Nein had killed by episode 62? It's gotta be more than that.

Bordor asks the question of the night. "Are you trying to kill a god-eater, or are you trying to stop a man who people believe in? Are you trying to stop them believing in him, or are you trying to stop the god-killer?" Prism notes that oftentimes, wizards predicate beliefs on things they don't know for sure, and asks whether Ludinus is in the same boat, whether anyone knows for sure whether there's a god-eater in the moon.

Ashton thinks the teleportation was an accident.

Denise asks another excellent question. "He's been planning this for centuries, so what makes us think he's any closer now than he was before?"

"I think, as time goes on, maybe we need to except that Exandria is going to change, and maybe it's just about not making a change for the better, but not making it change for the worst." They are definitively against Ludinus being the one to fill the power vacuum killing the gods would create, but are not necessarily against the formation of the vacuum itself.

Denise is tired of fighting. Ashton is caught in the sunk cost fallacy. Orym just wants to get his friends back. Bordor doesn't want to die because of the Bells Hells. ("You have people you love, and you know where they are. That's more than most.") Prism is infected by youthful optimism and the prospect of being important. Prism doesn't want to put the knife in Ludinus' back, but Bordor volunteers, if they can get him behind his back. But regardless, though they all have different opinions of the deities, they all agree that Ludinus is a bad person, that he needs to go away -- and in the end I think that's what really matters.

I think, for multiple meta reasons, that the gods are going to change, if not outright disappear or be replaced. (The pantheon is the most difficult hurdle in the way of Critical Role as a company distancing itself from Wizards of the Coast's intellectual property.) And the issue I've been having with this narrative so far is the idea that the gods being changed has to correspond to Ludinus rising to power. So if the Bells Hells can separate the changing of the gods, Ludinus rising to power, and the dismantling of theocratic oppression, then I'm happy.

Bor'dor smokes from Ashton's pipe. Specifically, it "re-enacts your most impressive and heroic achievements." For Bordor, this is him standing in front of the Bells Hells, standing in front of the dummy they made earlier as Bordor casts firebolt for the first time. Then, they see him lifting his arms and feeling for the first time like he belongs.

Ashton smokes from it too, but it only works once a night so it doesn't display anything for them. Still, in regards to Bordor, they get the feeling that it's "all up hill from here."

In the dead of night, Orym plants Seedling in the ground and whispers a prayer. "I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if you can hear any of us anymore. I hope you can. I've heard too many stories first-hand, too many tales to discount the good that you, many of you have done in this world. I don't know if you have anything left in you, but... I'm praying. We could really use a little help down here. I know you will too -- we'll do our best, but any miracle you can spare."

Two notes during the break: first of all, I'm starting to piece something together. Maybe the Bells Hells read as NPCs not because they are the background characters of someone else's story, but because they are the antagonists of Ludinus' story. Secondly, another layer of nuance suddenly makes sense: the Bells Hells don't care about the gods, they have no reason to. Whether the gods are killed or changed or replaced, it doesn't matter to them -- so long as Ludinus is not the one who fills that vacuum. To them, the gods dying is not the primary issue at hand, it's the power vacuum that their deaths would create; they want to prevent Ludinus from filling it at any cost, so they don't care whether they stop that by saving the gods, replacing them first, stopping Ludinus, or whatever else. That layer of characterization, I think, is what's been missing from a lot of fandom discourse surrounding this issue.

*Denise and Prism making secret slight of hand rolls complete with secret whispers* Liam: "Orym is in the back doing pushups with a 31 passive perception"

During the next day of travel, they come upon a crevasse with a river cutting through the middle. Though it's a sheer drop, the eidolon cougar who's been leading them walks down the cliff and sits at the base, looking at them expectantly.

"You could use that disc--" "It actually can't do altitudinal changes,,,," ah, the hardships of the wizard. (at least you get to choose your magic source and discipline, you entitled hubristic motherfucker /lh)

However, they identify this canyon as the one they're looking for, and note that they're on the lookout for blueish flora on the north side of it.

With double natural ones, Orym -- because he's a fucking halfling and the halfling racial trait is worded very strangely -- rolls a 30 on his check to use Mother as a hang-glider and survey the canyon. Around a mile from where they stand, there's a glimmer of blue.

(Unless I'm missing a weirdly specific rule, if a halfling has advantage or disadvantage on an attack, check, or save and manages to roll a nat1 on both dice, they can reroll both of those dice due to the lucky racial trait. This is because of the way the ability is worded in relation to the wording of rolling multiple dice at the same time.)

They come upon a stretch of land with blueish plants leading to a hill. Traveling along it, they come to a beautiful grotto with a stream and a little pond; Prism determines that there is nothing illusory about her immediate surroundings, but something about the hill itself feels off and shimmers slightly.

Pate goes to investigate and finds that, on the side of the hill, there is a carved opening to a cavern that leads into the side of the canyon. There are small grooves, like writing, intentionally written into the sides of it; Laudna recognizes it as Primordial (which, btw, she can technically read because she has eyes of the runekeeper).

As she approaches, Denise's whip is "warm on her hip," indicating potential danger as they, with pass without trace, hear a steady, rhythmic breath -- the hill itself appears to be breathing.

Beyond it, the blue flora encompasses the entirety of the rock and ground, and bits of prismatic crystal protrude from cracks in the canyon. With a nat20, Bordor pries a piece out with his dagger -- it's a beautiful, opalescent, refractory crystal. Prism immediately wonders what would happen if she were to cast a spell through it.

Ashton gets close enough to read the Primordial. "Within the verdant tomb, we keep her spirit enduring."

Prism casts ray of frost through the crystal Bordor picked up, just to see whether it's some kind of "elemental refractor." The spell gathers within the crystal and refracts out, almost like the force of it has been separated into "nine separate rays that scatter at different angles," causing everyone (within 60ft, the range of the spell) to roll against the cantrip. Everyone dodges it, but it still split it nine ways; each ray is not as strong as the individual cantrip, but the crystal did disperse the effect more widely.

The spirit enters the cavern, turns back to the party, bows its head, then -- having completed its task -- dissipates into the wind.

Orym definitely gets the sense that the "hill" is one massive illusion concealing something.

As they enter it, the cavern appears to be a structure in multiple parts designed to support a community of people. (I think Matt took inspiration from Derinkuyu for this setting! Which is awesome to see, as an archeology nerd.) (As a note, this also feels very much like the stone giants' fortress that the Mighty Nein visited in C2E5 9-61.)

With a 22 investigation, they note that the people who have traversed through this area are both barefoot, and also elven or half-elf. (Prism has a foot fetish, confirmed. /j)

In elvish, Bordor says, "hello, I'm here with my friends, we mean you no harm. Have a good day."

Bordor's brother's name is Jesper. Also, a detail that may or may not be important later: there are pine trees in the Cyrios Mountains.

There are flower boxes with fresh soil and vibrant blue plants in these tunnels, and within them, bands of vibrant metal as part of the décor.

Eventually, they find what can only be described as an interior living space, where the ceiling levels out and there is a majestic chamber where mineral and rock cascade over eons beneath a multitude of crystals. Water runs along and between them, forming a small pool in the center. In the middle is a 12-foot monolithic obelisk that gives off a dull green glow, obscured toward the center, smooth. Markings on the walls resemble recently-set ritual markings, drawings recognized as glyphs used to channel magical energies. The chamber is a shrine, as well as something prepared for a magical moment, a major event.

There's no language, only runes and magical inscription. With an arcana check, everything here gives Ashton a similar vibe to residuum -- everything here looks very much like residuum. However, this crystal looks like natural, not processed or refined, residuum.

1:40:00, the emerald tree, residuum is emerald

Orym sees the same ritual markings, the melted candles, the herbs and natural offerings -- but no people, no person, no living being. The central crystal almost looks like a space where a body would be -- among the crystals, he almost sees a smile.

"We must keep her spirit enduring..." and both Laudna and Ashton see that this shrine is a battery, a setup.

#critical role #note watches c3 #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign 3 #critical role c3 #critical role liveblog #I'm having OPINIONS about the god debate #mostly opinions about how the gods are not and should not be the center of this discourse

20 notes · View notes

ansbobcar · 2 months

Text

EP 2. Rabbits are a terrible excuse

WORD COUNT. 2239

Link to overview

_ _ _ _ _

Once she was met by the gloomy dreadful sight of her familiar dorm room, she heaved out. That was absolutely pointless. As a student of the superior between the two, there wasn’t really a good reason to leave the school she had dealt with for the past 4 years of her life, taking out her things from her oddly heavy suitcase barely touched during her stay.

A simple-minded life with a simple minded goal of leading a healthy and routine life. Graduate high school without any life-threatening stains in her record like that 1st year transfer weirdo, get a job in the Bureau of Magic and she’d consider her life fulfilled.

A knock on her door was heard. “Darren, are you back?” Was muffled through the wooden door. “You can enter,” which revealed a classmate of hers with two lines running down his left cheek from her view.

“How was your visit?” He wondered.

She rolled her eyes, “It was boring. If you want me to compare the two schools, this one’s obviously superior to theirs,” as she continued unpacking. Attempting her best at summarising and reflecting about the matter concisely.

“What about the students?”

“Barely met them since I,” she lost her words as an unfamiliar and sickly feeling overcame her stomach. Swiftly, she dunked her head into her suitcase and vented out a hearty scream. That’s a new sight for him to see, she covered a cheek with a puzzledly muddled expression once she was done.

'Embarrassment?'

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s remotely wrong about the situation,” she fumbled, continuing to reach into her baggage before she sighed. “But if I were to honestly answer your question…” she took a deep breath; “There’s this guy and…” she froze as a familiar warmth reached her fingertips.

To his green eyes, she pulled out a creature from her luggage by the ears which crippled any remaining composure she had as her mouth twitched with restrained glee and more embarrassment.

“A rabbit?”

“Bunbun? Why are you in my suitcase?” Cradling it in her arms. Unable to hold it in any longer, she let out a defeated laugh. “You’re not helping my situation at all! He’d be terrified and lost with your disappearance,” scratching its chin lovingly.

'This rabbit has a name?' He held out his hand to stop her from rambling any further. “You’re telling me, that after 4 years of denying every love confession aimed at you and swearing off liking anyone, you have a crush on a student from Easton of all places?” He reiterated.

“Correction: I swore off shitty people here ‘cause they are all Grade A garbage,” she huffed. “Including you, Charlie,” which seemed to make him even more dejected than before.

“Just for a rabbit?” He pointed at Bunbun.

“Huh? What are you saying?” She placed the bunny down on her bed. “There’s a ton of them! It’s a win win situation for everyone if I leave!” She cheered with a spin. “You assholes don’t have to deal with my presence you all seem to hate so much and I don’t have to deal with so much bullshit from everyone here either!”

She clapped her hands together resolute in her choice. “I’ll go tell the principal right away!”

“But it’s”---she had already cast the spell--“midnight,” before he could finish his sentence. Her intrusion into the office and announcement had caused a conditional spell to be released through out the school, erupting its’ students into an uproar with the notice of her leave.

That day would mark one of the greatest cases of mass hysteria known in its’ school history.

_ _ _

“Bunaldo… how could you?” Rayne pointed his wand at the stubborn rabbit, who had been outcast by the others as the scapegoat. “You have violated one of the fundamental laws of this house, the outside world isn’t as kind as you think it is,” he glared at the buck.

“As punishment,” he flicked his wand and dragged him into a cage. “Reflect on your actions for the next week.”

A knock interrupted him from casting another spell. “Delivery?” He didn’t order any supplies, finding it oddly suspicious but the door was pushed open revealing the missing doe with that girl from yesterday morning. “You…”

“You’ll see me more often now,” she scratched her cheek as the bunny hopped in reunion with the rest.

“You transferred?”

“Yep.”

"What house did you get sorted in?"

"Adler."

'Shit.'

_ _ _

"Do you only eat mussels?" Watching her pull out her nth cooked mussel for what, her fourth day at school? "What are you?? An otter??"

"That's cute thing to compare me too!" She quipped. "Sea otters, you mean," as they walked to their next lesson.

How in the world is she part of Adler?

A house meant for students with courage and conviction. She seemed to fit Lang better with her ability and ambition. Or maybe, the sorting hat hated her? He wouldn't deny how annoying she was, watching as the students apart from Max Land, his own roommate, made a bubble of 2 metres between them.

That was, until they had stepped out of the school's immediate walls and headed towards where his rabbits were kept.

“Impart Zero,” she uttered without batting an eye. Easily dispelling a barrage of mud headed their way as they stopped and turned to see a bespeckled student with 2 lines on their cheeks in a white robe that was lined with purple flame fabric in their view.

“So the rumours were true. The new transfer student is wandless,” he snickered.

“Why does that matter to you?” Clearly annoyed by his presence already.

“Because the full capability of a magic user lies within their wand, meaning this is the full extent of your capabilities right now."

She arched her brow at his words before she let out a sigh. “If you want to duel just say so in my face because… I need to know where the infirmary is.”

He hawked at her words. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you there when we’re done,” he aimed his wand at her. He had the upper hand, he’d drown her in quagmire before she could take another step.

“Thanks for telling me, Rayne,” she waved as her friend continued on without her before she faced the Lang House student. “Did you say something?” She didn’t listen to him?

'The audacity of this random one-liner.'

“It doesn’t matter, MUDORUS!” But nothing happened as she walked closer towards him. Why wasn’t his wand working? No. It wasn’t his wand as he noticed tiny plots of mud where he had aimed. “MUDORUS!” It didn’t work! ‘Was it her magic? But she didn’t have a wand!’ His inability to accept this reality resulted in her fist colliding cleanly with his stomach. An easy K.O.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” she casually lifted his body with ease like a damsel.

Meanwhile, Rayne could only be reminded that she had uttered that spell in response to his own when they had met for the first time. Was her specialty dismantling magic? He’ll have to ask later.

_ _ _

The Lang House student groggily woke up. “Great, you’re awake,” she drawled him into a harsh thud against the wall, she tossed him another pillow patterned with stars. “What’s your name?” She pulled out a notebook and quill from her pocket to that question.

Agitated by her calm demeanour, he yapped, “What the hell did you do to me!?” She definitely did something illegal. Something foul. He just knew it.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he spat to her face. 'She definitely drugged me!'

“Tell me your name at least,” she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Wirth Madl, 2nd Year.”

How fitting, she told herself as she held back a laugh and irritation. “Well…”

“I made you feel like nothing.”

His eyes widened as he fished out for his wand to cast another attack at her but was met with no results. His heart trembled at her resounding smirk.

“If it’s a battle of strengths, you would lose,” she began. “A battle of survival and usefulness, you would best me… for now.”

“Nice to meet you, Wirth… Madl. I'm Darren Randel. 2nd Year from Adler,” she introduced herself personally before she stood up. “Your magic power will be back by sundown. Do what you want with that information.”

She uttered barely audible for his ears, “Good luck feeling worthless for a while.”

_ _ _

“Get a life will you?” He kicked the girl who was on the floor surrounded by rabbits. She barely moved an inch though. “But there’s barely anything to do other than do catch up study,” she mumbled. “Isn’t that right, Buns?”

To which the male rabbit nuzzled its head into the crook of her neck, much to her glee.

“I’m leaving,” he bluntly added.

“So early!”

“The professors and wardens are stricter with curfews for being outside the main building by sundown,” he explained. It was simply due to the fact there were no compulsory mealtimes, which is incredibly lax on their part. “Then who uses the dining hall?”

“That’s for the middle school section, high school students are allowed to eat there as well but it’s not really a common occurrence.”

How boring, she thought to herself.

“What do you usually have for dinner?”

“Instant noodles with bean sprouts.”

“UNHEALTHY!” Bamboozled and horrified by his words, she instinctively punched his shoulder.

“How big is your appetite?” She couldn’t care less about impressing him if he only ate junk and extra water. He was as good as dead to her if he didn’t eat well.

“Two bowls of rice for dinner is my limit,” he responded.

“With side dishes?” He nodded. “Any food preferences?”

“Vegetables.”

“Poké it is. Where's the kitchen?”

_ _ _

Once they arrived in the Adler Dorm Shared Kitchen, they were greeted by a mess with a raging oil fire and nobody left inside. Her patience seemed to be running thinner with infuriation. “Rayne, can you,” and the flames that danced violently at the stove dissipated before she could finish her sentence.

'I know the spell,' her hands balled into tight fists.

“It was probably some 1st years,” he muttered as she began to somehow take out: frozen salmon, rice, lettuce, seaweed, corn, cucumber, some soy sauce in a bottle, and two bowls from her robe before wearing an apron. She cut the tuna into raw chunks as she let the rice cook in a pot. Within a few more minutes, she finished her dish.

“Should keep you full for the night without feeling too heavy.”

He was a bit sceptical of the uncooked fish in the bowl but for the sake of having dinner, he took a bite of it with some rice and seaweed. His eyes lit up although barely noticeable to the average eye. It was simply delightful, savouring the cooled rice and cold sides. “But how’d you get raw salmon?”

“I’ve got my connections,” she replied nonchalantly, as they scarfed down their meals dry and began to quickly wash and dry the dishes. Once they were done, they walked back. Their footsteps clicked and clapped in a syncopated rhythm with each other, as their thoughts wandered elsewhere.

For the serious outlooking one of the two, he was intrigued.

The logic behind a dismantling spell is that the user must know what the targeted magic’s effects are in order to break it. The most basic and easily taught with this principle is ‘Dispel’ which only works once a spell has been inflicted onto a person or target. Whatever she used to break his Partisan and Wirth Madl’s attack, was more complex than a simple Dispel. Advanced magic dismantling is unheard of unless its’ tied to curses, a sense of uneasiness lurked from the lack of knowledge regarding her skillset.

Darren’s feet came to a standstill before she pivoted to face him on the 11th floor. “Just tell me what you want when the time comes, regarding food,” she stated clearly which puzzled him.

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will and you will oblige,” she pointed her finger at him. “I’m doing this for the win-win-win situation between the Bunnies, yourself and I, alright? We can all live comfortably without losing nutrition and I can get closer to you.”

Did he hear that correctly? “To ‘me’?” He repeated. Was this girl honest or plain stupid?

“Yes.”

He arched his brow at her until her calm demeanour cracked with a single word.

“Shit.”

Both it seemed.

She messed up the plan! 'Screw my worrying instincts,' scrunching up her hands into fists again. The plan was so damn simple, she was months--months early to the agenda. She didn’t know his favourite colour or his favourite food yet, they haven’t even become close friends yet! Stupid stupid Darren Randel!

“Forget that. I ain’t ready yet,” she searched for her key, retaining the remainder of her level-headedness by a few moments. “I’ll see you in the morning, Rayne.”

“Good night.”

Quickly dashing down the hall to her room: 822.

Well that was that, falling down to the floor when she entered her lonesome room.

"I fucked up big time," she cursed looking up to the night sky. "Oh Bunbun, how does your owner do it?"

In the meantime, he simply sighed.

‘I forgot to ask her about what she specialises in.’

‘Again.’

_ _ _ _ _

I got impatient and I also published this chapter on ao3 yesterday so uh... have it.

I forgot to say that my spelling tends to be inconsistent for the words which have ea and ee in them like sweet and sweat or for the ones which have like the uk and us spellings like specialize and specialise or practice and practise (it hurts my brain to think it I've got like french to overthink yk). So if you do see these in repeated succession, I apologise.

#mashle #mashle x oc #mashle oc #mashle fanfic idea #rayne ames #rayne ames x oc #rayne ames x reader #wirth madl #wirth mádl #mashle fanfic

5 notes · View notes

mooifyourecows · 2 years

Text

Started the 4th season of Stranger Things, gonna post my thoughts as I finish episodes so like, potential spoiler alert

okay so episode one

The entire Jonathan/Nancy scene made me so angry lmao STOP WASTING MY TIME WITH THIS GARBAGE

The whole tone is different?? Like the previous seasons had that kinda tropey jokey feeling from time to time but it took itself a little more seriously, especially season 1. But this one is like... wacky silly camera angles and sweeping swinging shots between scenes and goofy wacky prop comedy hehe finishing each other's sentences even though they're not together or talking about the same thing uhhhhhh it's just very silly

Not that that is BAD... just different

I like Eddie so far though. I thought he was gonna be a little Too Much™️ but by the end of the episode I decided that yes I like him. I can already see there being a point later on when his whole "theres no shame in running away" line is gonna either come in clutch or come back to bite him or someone else in the ass. Im gonna make a prediction that there's gonna be a scene where there's an option to run or fight and he's gonna stay and fight and then either save the day or die valiantly. Bonus points if throughout the show he constantly says to run away or chooses to run away until finally he's like "no, not this time" and then bam dead

I'm not mad at the whole "Lucas wants to be popular while the rest are content with being freaks" drama. Like I know it's kinda overdone but this show has always played into the popular tropes to create some tension between the characters so I don't think it's too weird

Eleven's drama is fine too. Being the new kid and getting bullied and also grappling with grief of losing her parent, I get it. She's acting kinda pitiful though? Like, she's always been really straightforward and strong and unyielding and now she's kinda just... rolling over? I understand she's in an entirely new environment and dealing with grief and loss of her abilities but still....

Pretty sure the skull monster thing is Papa. Maybe. Idk like it's weird that they're showing it so immediately in the first episode and it's just... preying on people's trauma, I'm guessing? Strange. But not Stranger Things Strange.

Idk so far I'm wondering how it's going to connect to the past seasons. Right now it feels like I'm watching a whole different show.

God I just hope there's less Nancy and Jonathan. Or their entire fucking plot lines aren't completely about their stupid fucking terrible romance. They have no chemistry and I despise their whole shtick. They'd be so much better characters if their stories were based more around being a big brother/sister to Will and Mike

Honestly idc about any of the romances other than Joyce and Hopper. Unless Steve and Eddie fuck because I'd be amenable to that. I might care about Robyn and Vickie but haven't seen enough of Vickie yet so who knows, they might wind up as boring as Jonathan and Nancy (or any of the kids' romances which I also don't care about even though they're not really terrible or whatever)

Erica is perfect as always though. I reeeeeeally liked the scene where that chick is singing the national anthem and Erica and the boys are slow motion walking to their dnd game. With the American flag cape? You can't spell America without Erica!

No further comments. Will watch another episode tomorrow

4 notes · View notes

heliads · 2 years

Note

can you do a stephen strange imagine where he thinks he’s loosing the reader? the reader tries to get him to talk about it but he goes distant?

anon i am so glad that i finally got a stephen strange request ty

masterlist

All you can see is sparks, golden and diving, flying everywhere within your field of vision. To anyone else, they would be an impossible mess of light, rendering even vision impossible, let alone comprehension of what they mean. Sometimes that’s the case for you too, but this hasn’t been so in a long time.

You are a Master of the Mystic Arts, and have been for a couple of years now. Spells come as easily to you as a child’s game of hopscotch. You’ve been trying to work on growing your powers by doing harder spells, which is what you’re doing now. You were also supposed to have someone watching you to make sure you weren’t accidentally going to open up a chasm between universes, but your mentor is a little distracted at the moment.

You allow him one more second to pull his attention back to you, then sigh in frustration. Flicking your fingers towards him, you cause a shower of sparks to bounce off of his head.

Stephen Strange, ripped abruptly out of whatever trance he was lost in, looks up at you in surprise. “What was that for?”

You spread your hands. “You’re supposed to be paying attention, but you’ve been lost in dreamland for the past ten minutes.”

Stephen goes to make his usual snarky comment, but for some reason it falls short and he just grimaces, running a hand through hair that seems to be silvering by the day.

You’re troubled by the silence, especially because it’s from a man who’s had no problems with rambling on about whatever matter crosses his mind, from the latest neurological study to some ancient text he discovered. You’ve been dating for some time now, and you’ve never seen him hesitate like this before.

It’s enough to convince you to stop the spell you’re practicing, and cease the regular whirlpool of gold behind you. The end of the magic takes some of the light from the room, and Stephen now looks drenched in shadow.

“Is everything alright?” You ask.

Stephen considers this, then shakes his head. “I haven’t been sleeping well as of late.”

His tone is heavy enough that you know there’s a greater issue at play here than just increasingly dark undereye bags.

“Are you having those dreams again?”

Stephen folds his arms across his chest, staring at the ceiling as if he can’t bear to look at you while thinking about what he’s been through. Perhaps there are familiar figures in his dreams, then, ones that he does not dare confuse with you.

“I wish they were just dreams. I suppose you could call them visions. They keep happening, and every time I see them they predict something terrible is about to happen. I keep seeing you-”

His voice breaks off suddenly, and it takes him a moment or two to recover. “I keep seeing you dead, tortured, beaten, broken, everything I want to avoid. The situation changes every time, but the outcome is always the same. No matter what, I always lose you.”

You suck in a breath. “I know how it sounds, but they’re just dreams, Stephen. You need to rest. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t seem convinced. “That’s the problem, I don’t know that they’re just dreams. They always happen right after I use the Time Stone, and they keep predicting small things. It’s usually inconsequential, like I’ll see you wearing a coat that you haven’t bought yet, or visiting a place that you haven’t decided until later, but they’re always right. Always. The only part that hasn’t come true yet-”

You finish the sentence for him. “The only part that isn’t true yet is my death. I get it, Stephen, and I do not envy you for having to deal with this, but they are just dreams, I can promise you that. Coats and expeditions are not the same thing as my imminent death.”

Stephen reaches for you out of habit, and you let him pull you close, so he can feel your heartbeat through your wrist and know you’re still alive more than anything.

“How do you know that? We have no guarantee that this isn’t some aftereffect of the Time Stone trying to warn me of what is to come.” He says.

You look up at him. “We also have no guarantee that this isn’t some primordial enemy trying to weaken the Sorcerer Supreme by forcing visions onto him. I appreciate your concerns, you Cassandra, but right now the greatest danger is that you’re starving yourself of sleep by getting too worried about something that might not even happen.”

Stephen stares at you, and you wonder if he’s remembering all the times he’s seen you dead in his visions. When his eyes dart to your throat, is it because he pictures the line of blood that started to well up there a few days ago? When he gently holds your hand, is it because he can’t let go of the time he felt every one of those bones break?

You wish you could say something to make him let go of these visions, but you can tell from the protective gleam in his eyes that this won’t be happening. Stephen is stubborn, creative, and loyal to a point. That’s why you love him, but it’s also why you are afraid of what he will do to keep you safe.

It starts slowly, at first. Stephen keeps taking trips down the library of the Sanctum Sanctorum, bringing back old tomes that haven’t seen the light of day in what could be centuries. At first, you study them together, peering at water stained diagrams of runes and chants, none of them spoken by a mortal tongue perhaps since the books were written.

Later, though, Stephen stops reading with you, and elects instead to conduct his research at odd times- the dead of night, early morning, in the middle of meals, or whenever a sudden thought occurs to him. He moves like a marionette, except you can only wonder what mad sort of strings are jerking his limbs and mind in different directions.

A few times, you’ve come across him reading some book that you’re fairly certain is one of the volumes locked away under several layers of protective chains and enchantments, only for Stephen to cover up the thing with loose parchment until you leave.

In the beginning, you were willing to worry by yourself, but as time goes on and things only seem to get worse, you can’t help but confess to Wong what’s going on. He seems equally perturbed, especially by the fact that his former student and peer won’t trust him any more than you. Both you and Wong are powerful sorcerers in your own rights, but for some reason this isn’t enough for Stephen to confide his plans in either of you.

He is a different man now, your lover, dark-robed and looming as if he fears the fall of light on his face. From what you can tell between cracks in doorways and glimpses in halls, Stephen looks exhausted and bone-weary, but he doesn’t seem to be letting this stop him.

At last, you’ve had enough. You have been avoiding Stephen’s quarters for a while now, out of some vague fear of what you’d find inside, but you visit him now. You knock once, but it goes unanswered. In fact, you’re fairly sure that he’s silenced the entire door frame so as to ensure that no errant sound travels out to the rest of you.

He hasn’t done the same thing for blocking sight, though, and on further inspection you realize that you can see flashes of light through the gap between the door and the wall. Some of it is the typical golden light of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, but much of it is a deep red, almost black. You’ve never seen anything like that before, and certainly not here.

That does it- you have to go in, and you have to see what latest bargain Stephen has made with the devil. After a few rudimentary unlocking spells, you’re able to get the doorknob to turn, and what you find inside makes your entire body go cold.

Stephen is inside, yes, but he’s not alone. There is some thing there, some sort of beast or monster that you could only ever picture in your worst nightmares. It is tall, too tall to possibly fit in this building, but it appears that Stephen has cast some sort of spell to allow such rule breaking to exist.

The thing charges at Stephen, quivering jowls revealing rows and rows of teeth as long as your arm through holes in patchy skin, but he stands his ground as if it were nothing more than a fly. Stephen spreads his arms and energy seems to flow from the beast into him. The monster falls to ash, but for one fleeting moment your boyfriend seems to be the ungodly creation instead, and you don’t believe that you are any less afraid of him than you were the massive thing that was just there before you.

You must have made a sound, some sort of horrified gasp, because Stephen turns with a start to see you. At first, he looks terrified that you’ve seen him like this, and then a slow, sickly smile creeps onto his face and he extends his hands proudly.

“Look what I’ve done,” he says, “I’ve grown more powerful than any other sorcerer alive. Nothing can touch us now.”

He reaches for you, but you draw back in horror.

“No, no. This is wrong.”

It is too much here, in his deeply shadowed room, with the horror of what just happened here far too apparent. You shrink away from him, then turn and head quickly for the door. You can hear Stephen trying to follow you, but his footsteps are oddly loud, as if it is more than just him in his body.

You open up a portal and step into it, closing the ring of sparks before he can follow. When you look up, you’re in your own quarters, and sink gratefully into your favorite chair in the corner to think about what you just saw.

It’s a difficult thing to judge, isn’t it? You love Stephen, there’s no question of that. He loves you, or he wouldn’t be doing all of this to protect you. The only question is how to tell when he goes too far, or what to do now that he has.

You still haven’t reached a decision by the end of the night, and the next morning finds you wandering listlessly around the Sanctum, wondering what you should do.

Just as you’re returning from the library, you see a movement out of the corner of your eye, and turn to see Stephen exiting a room down the hall. He glances up sharply when he sees you, then starts to hurry to catch up. You try to leave, but he just appears next to you by conjuring up a portal.

“Y/N, please. Wait a minute. Hear me out.”

You refuse to meet his gaze. “I think I’m perfectly fine without knowing what the hell you’re trying to do.”

Stephen sighs. “It was for you. You know that, don’t you? I have to keep you safe, and the only way I do that is by making sure there is nothing that we can’t stop. I can’t lose you, Y/N. Please understand that.”

You shake your head sharply. “Don’t you get it? This is how you lose me, Stephen. You lost me by doing whatever that was in your quarters yesterday morning. I want no part of this, even if it might save my life.”

Stephen looks stunned. “But me stopping this could kill you.”

At last, you dare to meet his eyes. “No, what’s going to kill me is when I leave the Sanctum Sanctorum, when I no longer have any version of you by my side, no matter how powerful. I love you, but what you’re doing is wrong.”

Stephen seems thunderstruck. “You would leave because of this? You would leave me because of this?”

He looks incredibly hurt, which hurts you in turn, but you have to stay strong. “Yes, I would. It would save both of us if I did.”

Stephen hesitates, tripping over his words before finally committing to what he wants to say. Even then, he seems completely unsure of himself.

“It’s scaring you that much?” He asks.

You nod, hoping this means he understands. “Yes. I just want you, Stephen. Not this crazy strong protector deal, you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

As you watch, he takes a slow breath out. “Okay.”

You raise a hesitant brow. “Okay? You’ll stop this?”

He manages a faint smile. “Hey, no need to seem so surprised. I’m doing all this for you, remember? There’s no point if you leave because I freaked you out.”

You laugh, and it comes surprisingly easier than you thought it could. “I wasn’t just freaked out, I thought you were going down a terrible path and didn’t want you to drag both of us down with you. I’m better than that.”

Stephen snorts, extending a hand to you. You take it. Already, he seems better, as if he’s letting go of the restless paranoia that has gripped him for so long. Maybe he’ll be better soon. Maybe that soon will come faster than you thought.

“I would never assume your intentions to be anything but pure, love. Trust me on that.”

And, smiling at him, you do. In spite of dangerous visions and spells that no mortal should ever know, you do trust him. You always have.

marvel tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv-blog, @caswinchester2000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

314 notes · View notes

mino-diabolik · 2 years

Text

[𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐊 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒] 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐓𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

[Admin!Danny: I felt compelled to make own little angst to rip out hearts after listening to Ruki’s Daylight. I just wish I could also make a cool voiced audio for it :’) I tried to write it in a “translation” format of dialovers-translations (because I like it a lot and it’s easy to follow) but kept it with a bit of narrative as well due to the lack of sound. Also, note that I made yet another cover for this post, so that it fits the story better〜 I started losing a bit of inspiration near the end, but I hope y’all enjoy!]

𝟷: ᴏɴᴇ sᴛᴇᴘ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ

(My body deteriorates faster than anyone could have expected. My mobility has become limited with each passing month, and I’ve slowly lost the desire to run around just as I used to. There are black marks—almost like bruises—scattered all over my torso and limbs. I use longer clothing to avoid worrying them further, but it seems like they’ve very clearly seen through my attempts at masking the imperfections on my skin.)

(Uncle Carla taught me how to deal with the pain and any contractions of magic. Though he has been ill longer than I, he is in an almost flawless conditions externally, while I have turned into a sickened mess, covered in bruises and thinning from my occasional lack of appetite. I assume Uncle believes the miserable state I was left in was his fault; there is always a hint of regret every time he sees the nephew that always made a ruckus in the castle struggle to so much as walk.)

(Though I worry more… how they are dealing with having me one step away from my grave…)

「 Flashback 」

“Get back! Your Endzeit just flared up, didn’t it!? Uncle—!”

Carla’s blood drips off the blade on the assailant’s hand and everyone around takes a step back.

(Is that uncle’s—!?)

The man launches for Mystic but he steps back.

“Shit! Back! Everyone get back!”

You emerge at the commotion and he turns his attention to you.

“You—!? Go back! What is wrong with you!? When you hear commotion in the palace, you don’t rush in, you hide, idiot! Momma take them—”

Stopping in the middle of his sentence, he suddenly throws back a spell and a loud explosion follows.

“Tsk… that’s right! You’re here for me, right!? How about you actually chase after your target and not their entire family you pathetic excuse of a gunman! Come on! Show me what you’re made of, then maybe I’ll let you take my head back to your boss!”

Spell after spell make the room rumble and flash in bright blazes of sanguine. Blood splashes all through the floor and the assailant seems close to collapsing from the mere agony of his despair.

“Terrible! You’re even making me feel bad for beating you like this! Wait, no. That’s not right. Didn’t you just draw my uncle’s blood? I should rip that hand off and then the other to make sure you never dare raise a hand against my family!”

Mystic launches for a killing blow. The prowler swings the tainted blade in an attempt to draw him back. The Founder is speedy enough to evade the attack, knocking the weapon out of the other party’s hand. He locks an arm their neck and yanks back with enough strength to flip them over and slam their face right against the tiles, where they go unmovable. Mystic stands.

“Huff… shit. What a pain in the ass! Man, fuck you. I was havin’ such a peaceful night for once and ya came to screw it over for me!”

He snaps around to look at you and quickly rushes over to your side, ranting.

“And you—”

You flinch. He stops, standing before you.

“Haah… never mind. Just don’t come running without knowing what’s going on. You’ll get killed one of these days! If not by them, then by me!”

You apologize.

“Do—don’t ‘sorry’ me with that tone. You’re making me feel bad…”

You apologize once more.

“What did I just—!?”

Footsteps rapidly approach. You shriek for him to watch out. Chhk!

“Agh!”

Mystic kicks back the assailant that finally falls flat on their face and doesn’t get up again. He doubles over, clutching the bleeding wound at his abdomen; his face draining from any color from shear horror.

(This is…)

「 Flashback End 」

𝟸: ɪɴғᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ

Rustling. You rush over to the bed upon hearing Mystic shuffling about and plop down at the edge of the mattress.

“Ugh… huff. Hah… what’s with that sad face, baby? Wakin’ up to you frowning first thing in the morning is scary, ya know?”

You ask how he is feeling.

“I’ve had greater days, I guess. Definitely doing better than yesterday, though. I never would’ve imagined an obstruction of magic would be so painful. I thought I was getting ripped apart…”

You tell him he passed out due to the pain.

“Well, yeah, no shit. Ain’t nobody caught me on my way down, right? All of my body’s sore.”

You admit you tried to catch him, but it had happened too suddenly to react on time.

“Pff… fufufu. Well, I suppose that’s alright. I’m aware you’re just a tiny, feeble human compared to me〜”

There is silence for a moment, then you mutter something about his height as well.

“Excuse you—!”

You quickly change the theme and reach out to cup the side of his face in your hand.

“‘There another one?’ You mean another mark appeared? Well, no wonder I feel like shit. ‘Can’t even have a decent night sleep anymore.”

You grimace a bit.

“Now, don’t make that face, could you? It’s been almost two years since then, and look at me, I could honestly be doing worse. At least I can still talk and walk around like my uncle! Well… except for these last two weeks, of course. But don’t worry, that was just a minor problem. You’ll see everything’ll be just fine tomorrow.”

He reaches out to take your hand and lightly tugs you closer. Just grabbing this way has him trembling with effort so you quickly scoot over

“I’ll admit that having you around all throughout has given me a bit of hope. If you’re standing before me, healthy and unharmed, then what can’t I fight? I’m a First Blood, for cursed’s sake!”

(There is no cure for the Endzeit. Nobody has found it, nobody seems remotely close to doing so. Kazuha has beat her head against the desk nonstop to find something that would at least reduce its effects on the body, but no dice.)

There is a distant crash outside of the room, followed by muffled arguing and cursing.

“Hah. They’re at it again, huh? What was it this time? Did Aunty blow a section of the castle off or are they at each other’s throats again?”

You respond with the ladder.

“‘Thought so. I’m sure momma’s been going mad. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t gone in a rampage this time around. When my grandfather used to do much as raise his voice at me, she’d go off. It was scary at the time, but now I just find it funny to remember that old bastard’s face going pale from having someone so much younger and shorter—his own daughter—snap at him like that.”

“I can’t even imagine what the thought that her own son is infected with the Endzeit is doing to her stability. Has she gotten in any fights with my uncle?”

You shake your head.

“That’s nice to hear. At least she doesn’t blame him. I’m sure Uncle’s having a hard enough time all on his own.”

You ask if he doesn’t blame Carla for what has happened.

“‘Blame Carla’? No. Not really. It was me who didn’t react in time. Everyone else was doing their best to keep from being infected, but here I am. The only idiot that didn’t think to back away. None of them could’ve protected me. It’s nature, I suppose. The weakest never makes. Why do you think my uncle has been in such a pristine state despite having been infected for such a long time?”

You frown and argue he isn’t weak.

“Why, you flatter me, baby. But as the humble man that I am, I must admit that next to big guys like Carla Tsukinami and KarlHeinz, I’m but a flea.”

He leans closer to you and wraps his arms around you. He plants a kiss on the crook of your neck.

“Mn… Even if I am ever to perish from this retched world, then at least I get to bring my memories of you to my grave. Your scent, your cries, your tears—even the taste of your blood. They will make me company in the abyss I am to lay for the rest of eternity.”

You tell him not to say things like that.

“Yeah, you’re right… I’ve been outta my mind as of late.”

He backs away.

“. . . Now, don’t look at me like that. Won’t you show a smile? For as much as I love it when you scold me, you look so much better when you smile. So… please?”

Finding him childish, you smile.

“Yay〜 You see, it’s much better. Besides, frowning will give you wrinkles. You ain’t got skin as perfect as mine, you know?”

As a way to joke, you lightly shove him back.

“——Ow, ow, ow!”

You panic, remembering he’s in a bad state.

“. . . Pff—hahaha! You fell for it! Hahaha! Oh, you’re still as naive as ever, baby. You’ve got to stop being fooled by small tricks like that. Who’s gonna stop ya from running into sticky situations when I’m gone?”

You puff out your cheeks and turn to leave. He reaches for your hand and pulls you back.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I was kidding! Don’t leave, I just woke up. Keep me company… pretty please?”

You glare at him.

“——You either stop glaring at me and cuddle me or I’m ripping off your clothes and having my way with you〜”

You immediately jump up to hug him. Rustle.

“Woah—ehh? Oh, c’mon, you’re so boring! I thought we could have some fun for once. You know how difficult it is to have some peaceful just the two of us these days? Mean…”

Mystic tightens his hold around you, whispering right by your ear.

“Haah… ‘don’t really think I can really keep my promise. You’re givin’ off that sweet smell again…”

“Hmm? ‘It’s fine’? Are you really going to give in that easily? That’s new. ‘Not complaining, of course…”

He leaned over you, settling between your legs.

“Perhaps you’re taking pity on me? I might look that miserable to you right now…”

“Well… I suppose there’s no helping that. I am heading to an early tomb. Whatever—let’s not ruin the mood now.”

He loosens your collar and leans closer. You ask if he’s feeling okay.

“If I’m okay? Hah… do I look that out of it?”

You push the issue.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. You’re just that gorgeous, it seems. I might just be lost in your eyes〜”

You frown.

“. . . You’re really startin’ to annoy me, you know? I think I’ve told you a thousand times already, but the one thing I hate the most is when others think… too little of me. Only I get to belittle myself. A human like you is gonna take pity on me? Do you really think that’s gonna make it any better?”

He grips your face and pins you down.

“Fine… let’s see how far this pity of yours for me goes…”

𝟹: sʟᴇᴇᴘʟᴇss ɴɪɢʜᴛ

Mystic leans down and bites harshly.

“Mn… mm-hm… mn—haah… fu, you’re crying already? Did it hurt? Oh, too bad. I thought you’re surely gotten used to it by now.”

You complain.

“I’m being mean? Now that’s just not fair. It’s an eye for an eye. You’re very familiar with how we deal with thins in this household, right? You’ve lived within its walls for years now.”

He runs his tongue over the bite mark and sighs.

“But I also like returning the favor tenfold. Yeah… that’ll be your punishment for messing up my mood.”

Mystic bites again. Relishing in the sweet nectar of your veins, he hums and moans blissfully. He further closes up the distance between the two of you and is now dangerously settled between your legs.

“Mmm… ah, haah. Hm, it’s sweeter than normal. Am I going insane from this illness or are you enjoying hearing me scold you?”

You refuse to answer.

“Not talking? Okay, there are tons of other ways for me to find out—”

He grips the bottom edge of your shirt and yanks up.

“—why don’t I test them?”

“. . . No, I’m not ripping your clothes apart. Do you have any idea how expensive they are lately? Why the hell would you even ask that? …You—don’t tell me you want me to rip your clothes apart?”

Frantic head shaking.

“Fufufu… okay, I won’t then. What’re ya gettin’ all nervous for? Even though I’ve treating you so nicely these days…”

“I suppose I can guess why you’d be scared, though. But doesn’t that make it feel better? Being passed around by Vampires in the past—I’m sure you’ve got a taste of it. I know I have…”

He leans closer.

“Now… why don’t we get this shit-show started?”

𝟺: ʟᴏsɪɴɢ ɪᴛ

You make your way to Mystic’s bedroom, when there is a sudden struggle inside.

“Fuck! Fuck! W—why!? Why won’t it work!? It’s such a simple spell!”

There’s a crash, follow by Mystic’s complaints and cursing, so you hurry inside.

“Huh—!? You… what are you doing here? Why right now? Weren’t you supposed to be helping my mother with dinner?”

You tell him she sent you to call him to eat.

“Oh… I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

You ask if he’s okay.

“. . . If I’m okay? If I’m okay!? I haven’t been able to ride around on my motorcycle, or run out to get errands done, or do my job, or even get out of this goddamn room on my own in months! Does it seem like I’m okay!?”

He smacks a candle off the desk.

“I thought I was useless before—but now I can’t even fucking cast a simple spell! Am I really going to die being a waste of space!? That’s not how I wanted to go! At all. Damn this sickness and damn this fucking body. So weak and useless, and that only brought me nothing but trouble!”

Mystic raged, slamming both hands into a nearby desk. He wood splinters as if it were to snap, but doesn’t visibly budge in the slightest.

“. . . You see? This was supposed to snap in half in a second. Am… am I loosing my magic? It feels exactly the same as when I’m injured… but that’s not it at all.”

“Uncle said I’d start feeling devoid of any sensation, and then that my strength would diminish… before my body finally succumbs to the Endzeit.”

You walk up to him and hug him from behind.

“Don’t feel bad for me… please. That’s just gonna make me feel worse…”

“Get it through that thick skull of yours!”

He snaps around and grips your arms.

“I’m about to die! My body is crumbling with each passing day and there’s not gonna be anything left of me afterwards! Ha… hahaha… And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it…”

He suddenly embraces you and chokes up.

“What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave my family and my friends yet. I don’t want to leave you. What if something happens when I’m gone? I won’t be able to run errands for Kazuha, run around with my Familiars, dine with my family… or see you again.”

“I’m scared…”

𝟻: ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴅ

You rattle the doorknob as the bangs on the wall become much violent by the passing seconds.

“Aahhh—!! It hurts, it hurts——! Somebody help me!!”

Mystic’s desperate screams are muffled through the door. You ram your body against the door in attempt to open it, but it seems to be locked. You slam a hand on the door repeatedly, calling out for Mystic to open the door.

“Aghhh!! Help me! Please, help me!”

You try to open the door, but it’s not budging. There’s a loud crash, like a window has been broken.

“Ahhh!! Ugh—!? Haah!”

Without knowing what to do, you rush away, screaming for anyone that could help. You rouse the rest of the Tsukinami, who had already heard the commotion and all of you rush back towards Mystic’s bedroom. Kazuha is the first one to arrive and simply swings her hands up, bursting the lock and throwing the door open.

“. . . !? Ka——ugh! Ahh!”

You hurry over to his side and try to calm him down, but he continues to thrash around.

“M—my chest… it’s feel it’s burning up…! And my head…—it hurts!”

You realize the blood oozing through his shirt and alert the rest of the family, who back away. Carla is the only one that remains close.

“Do—don’t… agh! Why…?”

Black bruises appear down his arms and up his neck, almost up to his jaw. Mystic stares down at the state of his body in absolute horror. He looked like he wanted to cry and scream. You hurry to divert his attention from it by cupping his face in your hands, but he jerks away.

“Get out! All of you, please get out!”

You refuse to get away, so the rest of the family drags you out and shut the door behind you. Mystic continues to struggle and you bang on the door o try to get back inside.

“Stop… stop it.”

Mystic’s voice is nearer. He is against the other side of the door, breathing heavily but still loud enough for you to hear him.

“Don’t… please, calm down. I’m… I’ll be okay.”

“Listen… everything—ugh, kuh—…will be fine.”

He sounds as though he is smiling, but weaken beyond help.

“You can… always go back to the Sakamaki mansion… hahaha. I’m not sure if you’d like that, though. Haah… please, just… don’t cry, okay?”

“Agh… haah.”

“Ma, dad, aunty… I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble these last few years. And… uncle… thanks for trying to help…”

There is silence for a moment and you lightly knock on the door once more.

“Kaz… I hope I can entrust them to you. Please… take them away.”

Kazuha grabs you and forces you up when you refuse to comply.

“I’m sorry, baby… I really wish I could’ve stayed by your side… a bit longer…”

“Be well… okay?”

You thrash about as Kazuha begins walking away from Mystic’s bedroom, shouting for him. The rest of the Tsukinami stand in place, speaking with Mystic about something through the door, low enough for you not to hear.

𝟼: ᴇɴᴠᴏɪ

(Immortals are meant to go through life as such—to live forever, whether it is with the pleasure of of the world, or with the guiltiest of consciousness that will perhaps haunt them for as long as they are meant to pace this retched world. Of course, it wouldn’t be a just world if they were made to be indestructible.)

(Whatever sins I may have committed or pain I have caused… well, punishment awaited me without fault. Karma, I believe it is called. Because I was no saint, and I know it. A creature that seeks the blood of another cannot have the face to claw at life when it is taken away from him, after all. Even if that were the case, who am I to shift the course of fate? I was never even meant to be born, regardless. The universe was going to take me out no matter how much I tried to run and fight it off.)

(Though my only concern, as my body disintegrates into the old tiles of my bedroom’s floor, is how they will live on from now. I’m sure they will be fine. My family will take care of them… hopefully. All I hope for… is for them to be happy. Even if I can’t be the reason for it… their smile has always been very beautiful.)

Mystic leans back against the wall and slumps down on the ground.

“. . . Haah…”

“Death… so calm, ain’t it…?”

— End —

#diabolikloversoc #diabolik lovers daylight #fan made diabolik lovers daylight #mystictsukinami #danny #one shot #mi arte #my art

32 notes · View notes

mlmreaderfics · 4 years

Text

You Look Quite Divine Tonight (Cthulhu x Lighthouse Keeper!Male Reader)

The years have not been kind to you.

You are grizzled, old, scarred from your face to your heart, and tired. Your hair has gone white from age, along with your beard, and wrinkles break up the symmetry of your sandpaper skin. Your voice constantly aches and itches from yelling and overuse, though you appreciate the light Scottish accent you allegedly have. It makes you seem tougher than you actually are. There are callouses and blisters on your fingers, palms, feet from work. For work on the sea is anything but easy.

The sea has not been kind to you.

On occasion you find yourself with a strange, salty taste in your mouth. You used to know whether it was the ocean or your own tears. Your eyelashes freeze, yet you feel the most comfortable in the cold, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. You are very tired. Ever since hitting your ripe age of “too old to go to sea, but too young to retire properly” you took the toll of a lighthouse keeper. When you got here, it was supposed to be six weeks, with a young, scrappy helper that reminded you of yourself. Instead, he hung himself from the rope while he was supposed to be repainting the blistering white tower. Maybe he hated you. It wouldn’t surprise you, although it’s the first time anybody has taken their own life just to get away from you. You didn’t know him, yet you feel immense sorrow. Perhaps you were being too parental. You do tend to get attached.

The world has not been kind to you.

You never really knew your mother, she left before you were ten, and your father was colder than the ocean himself. Yes, you tend to refer to inanimate objects as “him,” but those rich men call their boats “her,” so who are they to judge? Though, perhaps it is because they see you as a predator, an animal itching to get its hands on any man it can find. But that’s not what you want. What you do want, you’re not sure, but it wouldn’t be just any man, and it wouldn’t be just for sex, throwing yourself around dark alleyways like a London whore. Though, you are just as tired as they are. It was supposed to be six weeks.

You have resided here, alone and without rescue, for a year. You think.

Thankfully, you have enough food to last you another six months. There’s been no ship to come rescue you from this rock, perhaps they no longer have a need for lighthouses. Maybe those children with their inventions figured out how to navigate the sea blindfolded, backwards, and in the dark. but they wouldn’t just leave you here, right?

You decide not to think about it. Thankfully, you have a very worthwhile distraction.

Whilst searching through the house, you notice one of the floorboards sounds off when you step on it. It takes you about five minutes to crouch down to the floor, but in the end, it’s worth it. You knock on the floor. Sounds like normal. You move your scarred fist to the left, three raps following. Also normal. Left once more.

There it is. The knock is echoed slightly, the wood hollow underneath.

It takes you ten minutes to get up off the floor, but thankfully you have a newfound adrenaline. You hobble over to the toolshed outside.

You make a point of not looking to your right, knowing you will find some of the grisly remains of your crew-mate, your excitement giving you tunnel vision to the crowbar. You rush back and bend over, your back loudly protesting as you attempt to pry back the floorboard. One push. Then two. Then three.

With a loud crack, the board splinters away, revealing a small hole with a book inside. It appears to be a journal.

————————————————————————————

Though you eat dinner that night, your health is the furthest thing on your mind as you theorize what the book could be. A book of spells? A tale as old as time itself? Maybe just pretty pictures? Whatever it is, the fact that new information is occupying your head is enough.

When you finally get a chance to sit down and begin to read, you notice an important sentence on the front page:

“This journal belongs to: Gustaf Johansen.”

Well, whoever this Gustaf character is, you are sure to be fascinated by him!

————————————————————————————

January 12, 1792.

Today marks my first day on the sea. While I do admit that I may come down with a minor sickness, I still have faith in my comrades to help me, as I shall help them.

———————————————————————————

You scan the pages, word by word. It details six months of a life at sea, similar to yours. Gustaf is (allegedly) described by his friends as “a man with strength and beauty to rival Thor himself.” Though you doubt that description, you can’t help but entertain the handsome image.

He’s holding your hand, rubbing his thumb on the back of it. Smiling, he nestles his head between your head and shoulder.

You shake your head. It’s ridiculous, no one is coming to save you.

_________________

April 20, 1792.

I have been having frequent dreams of a place I have yet never seen. I find myself under the ocean surface, far from dry land. And yet, in the murky waters, I see a glowing, beautiful city.

——————-

That night, you have the same dream.

You don’t think anything of it.

You continue to read.

_____________________

May 2, 1792.

The dream has come again, but now I hear a chorus of people. Or perhaps, not people, but simply voices. They speak in a language I do not recognize, yet still understand. They speak of the coming of a god, a Great Old One.

They call this being Cthulhu.

—————

Underneath the entry, a sentence, phrase, or paragraph in an unknown language, presumably the one from the dreams, is written. It is a terrible mess of consonants and apostrophes. Though, it is still somewhat readable. Your pronunciation is messy, but you get through it.

Mggoka'ai ya, throdog gn'th

nog, uh'eog ot shugg

Y' nogephaii

nogephaii l' ya, gn'bthnknyth

nogephaii l' ya, orr'e

nogephaii l' ya, cthulhu

You finish the final syllable. Nothing happens.

In a burst of anger, you grab a flare from the supplies closet and walk out into the night.

Standing on the beach, you light the flare, waving it around. The sky is black, not a star in sight. “Please, help me!” you cry. “Please, anybody! I’m right here!” Tears burn your eyes and run down your cheeks. You muster all the strength in your lungs.

“I’M RIGHT HEREEE!!!”

With the final syllable, the ground shakes. Did somebody finally hear you? Are they coming to help you, after a lifetime of isolation?

It shakes again, your take a few steps to regain you balance.

Again. Your knees wobble.

Again. You fall, and a great deal of pain does not fill your body. In fact, you feel a great sense of rejuvenation in your bones.

Again. You manage to get up, seeing bubbles on the ocean surface.

Slowly, a mixture of flesh and scales emerges from the sea. Two sets of burning red eyes lie below. A strange beard of tentacles. A hugely muscled body with miles-wide wings. And when he speaks, you feel it in your chest.

“I do not recognize you, my beloved.”

You stare in fear, the flare still belching smoke.

“Lovely mortal, fear not. My beloved, Gustaf, had the most beautiful soul.”

The tentacles on his face gently wrap around you and lift you up. You find yourself between his eyes.

“You have that same soul deep within you.”

You begin to cry once more. The tentacles are surprisingly not as freezing as you thought they would. Instead, they fill your body with loving warmth.

“I-I apologize.” You say. “I have not been held like this since…”

You look back on your life, quickly.

“No one has ever held me like this,” you admit. Your voice is small, lost, broken.

“Then I am honored to be the first.”

His centuries-deep voice is filled with love. He speaks your name softly.

“Wouldst thou like to experience the pleasure of a god?”

“Yes,” you whisper desperately. You quickly unbutton your shirt, but the tentacles take care of your clothes for you. He laughs like rolling thunder.

He devours you, body and soul.

#male character x male reader #male reader #cthulhu #eldritch #lovecraft #lovecraftian #cthulhu x reader #lighthousecore #sailorcore #lighthouse #mlm

203 notes · View notes

scribeofmorpheus · 3 years

Text

Himmeløyne [24/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: Angst???

A/N: Sorry for the slow updates and return, it’s been a shitty year for me so far and I barely have the energy to be creative or enjoy writing as I used to. Anyhoo, enough dark-loomimg-clouds overhead, I’m going to try and write more and slowly get back in the flow of things. Can’t wait to conclude this journey with all my Loki lovers out there!!♥

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Heimdall

The descent from the mountain was tough. The winds held a biting anger to them, as though they knew outsiders had slipped into Jotunheim, unwanted. It was morning, or a semblance of it, and the snow threatened to turn its grey, sludgy pelt to a blinding light-catcher. Snow blindness would have been an issue had the sun been young in Jotunheim. This old world was always angry every time he stepped foot on its lands, but, after the gates of Mímir’s Tomb closed behind him, the world seemed the slightest bit angrier.

Y/N stirred in his arms. Eyes closed, brows drawn close together. Her lips moved as if possessed, soundless words spilling from her mouth in a fervent cascade. Speech of tongues, a sign of dark magic possession. Y/N’s consciousness was in the stream now, and none could wake her. Even her magic, her presence, was sealed off to his own. Every time he tried to reach out, he felt nothing but the air on his cheeks, or the snow on exposed skin. It was cold. Cold and empty. He knew this feeling all too well. It had taken years for him to become adept in traversing the ways of dark magic. In his youth, it was common for him to be overcome by the Transcendence—the pull of the power of the ancients. Dark magic tapped into more than just the kindling of the Eternal Flame that breathed life into Yggdrasil and life beyond, it tapped into essence itself, of the past, the present and what lay in secret. Being a conduit to its onslaught was a thin blade to dangle by, for both the conjurer and their souls.

Shaken from his reverie, Heimdall caught sight of Hogun in the white-out of the landscape below. Hogun had scouted ahead to mark the safest path down the mountain. For some reason, he had stopped to kneel over a rockery below, from the way the rocks were stacked it looked to be the remnants of a shrine.

Sif waited for Hogun to wave them down and give the go-ahead, but to their dismay, he did not. Heimdall became more and more aware of the seconds trudging by the longer he stood out in the open. The colour from Y/N’s fingers and lips began to drain too. He dreaded seeing them turn blue.

“What’s the hold-up?” Fandral shielded his eyes as he stole a glace below.

Hogun mumbled to himself, voice lost to the harsh wail of the winds. Then, with a shift in his countenance, he turned to the group and shouted across the divide, “The ground… something is moving!”

“Towards us?” Sif shouted back.

“No, beneath. There’s something beneath us!” Hogun said. Just then, a rumble gurgled through the mountain, layers beneath, and Heimdall felt a wave travel from his soles upwards.

The frozen sea in the distance cracked. A hollow, whip-cracking noise echoed against the mountain’s stone. Sharp notes sliced at Heimdall’s ears, making him wince. The others showed discomfort too. The boy who they’d found in the tomb beside Y/N began to blink away whatever spell had pulled him under. Unlike Y/N, he looked to be untouched by the cold. In fact, the longer he was exposed to it, the brighter he seemed. Livelier.

The boy mumbled, and for the briefest moment, Heimdall could have sworn he heard the beginnings of Jotun trickle out. Volstagg was oblivious to this, simply thinking the boy’s sounds to be the groggy noises of between-sleep.

“Easy there, lad. You’re with friends. You’re safe,” Volstagg said in a low candour.

“We should get off the mountain,” Heimdall warned, refusing to let his voice be as loud as his fear truly was.

“Boy,” Volstagg lowered the boy from his grip, giving him room to find his footing, “can you walk?”

“Baldrick,” he said, swaying. His knees threatened to buckle, but before Volstagg could lend a hand to steady him, he righted himself. “Yes, I think I can.”

There was a dream-like effect to the boy. Reminiscent of a dream stretching long into the waking world. It doesn’t belong there, and yet, familiarity lulls the senses, as a sweetness masks a poison. His words fell soft, and struck hard once they faded, like swallowing ice; at first, there’s the initial chill, and then, once in the throat, you become terribly aware of the difference between your heat and the ice’s lack of it.

“Good,” Fandral said, face turned to the mountain peak, “because we’ve got another problem.”

With a roll of thunder, the crack in the sea of ice broke to form a cavern, hollow and open. The echoing sounds knocked against Heimdall’s body as If he were a tuning fork. Then, ominously, the wind went quiet, waiting. A single snowflake danced across the horizon, touched the ground and shattered. The ground shook, stronger than before, and a piece of the mountain burst into a mess of rock and dust. The snow gathered there tumbled downward, growing to an avalanche. The violent turmoil of rock and dirtied snow hurled itself towards them, tendrils separated into three prongs, outstretched in the shape of a hand reaching down. This was magic beyond conjuring. This was divine fury of a deadened world awakening.

Hogun waved them down, face paling. “Run!”

Heimdall felt his muscles brace of their own accord. A rush of heat to his chest and his feet moved faster, less cautious of slipping on the ice.

A formation of rock and magic took shape under the frozen lake. A head of something rendered from artifice breached to the surface. As if a snake, grey streaks writhed under the sea as this inanimate behemoth climbed to the surface, wrought, constructed and ancient. Two glowing orbs melted the ice to a waterfall as the construct continued its climb. A slow, guttural growl, strung together by fluctuating sound waves, burst into the air. It was language. It was Jotun.

As the behemoth grew, the mountain sank. Formations of rock working in tandem. Two muscles at work. And Heimdall and everyone else was stuck in the space between destruction and formation. The avalanche moved swifter than Heimdall’s feet could carry. Soon, the sky was filled with the wroth of the destroyed mountain.

~Y/N

Everything was black since the tomb. An emptiness. Peace. Waking up was riotous. White-out of snow was nearly blinding. There was a shaking to the world, roil and amble against flesh. As your eyes flung open, you realised your body was hovering off the ground, an avalanche charging towards you, but you weren’t afraid. By instinct, you raised your palm, feeling the cold of the snow before it touched you, and your magic spread as a vibrant shield. The rush of snow and rock piled over the magical barrier, threatening to overwhelm you. Once the barrage had stopped, you let your hand fall to your side, the magical barrier gone with it. The piled snow made a hushing noise as it shifted lower, for an instant, and then stopped.

“Y/N?” Heimdall’s voice called to you.

Startled, you turned and saw the familiar faces of your friends, gobsmacked, mouths agape. Further in the distance, the maw of a giant snake lay open, fangs of stone and a throat of darkness peaked out above a split sea of ice. For some indiscernible reason, you knew you had to go there. Body aching to cross the divide and melt into the stone snake’s midnight throat. It was then that you realised the devastated mountain made smaller, and the surrounding landscape, changed, was Jotunheim.

“What happened here?” you tried to clear the cobwebs from your mind, blinking sluggishly.

“What happened to you?” Sif asked, unable to stop staring in your direction.

Everyone stared at you a little longer than they should. Focusing on your face. Or, rather, your eyes. You had forgotten that the last time you saw them was mere hours ago, not ages as the Verdenspeil had led you to believe. To them, you had only just given up your eye to The Collector for passage into the mirror world. To you, it felt like a distant memory. Readjusting to time would be tricky.

Your hand hovered close to your newer eye—the golden one—and you smiled fondly, “A long story.” Suddenly, a streak of dread shot up your spine. “Where’s Baldrick? Where’s the boy?”

Heimdall reached for your shoulder, calm expression melting your rattled countenance, “He’s fine.” Your father frowned, searching gaze landing on Baldrick. The gears of his mind were working. An obvious look of caution and wonderment fighting for dominance over his frown lines. “Who is he?”

You sighed a breath of relief as Baldrick smiled back at you, bare feet untouched by the cold as he rooted himself on the mountain. You returned your attention back to Heimdall, an ease in your chest. “I cannot say for sure. But he feels so…”

“Familiar,” Heimdall understood the same as you did. The boy’s presence was confounding. “As if he was known to us, from before.”

“Not to interrupt this reunion—Y/N, so glad you’re up and walking—but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re out in the open, were nearly crushed by an avalanche and had a giant snake appear from beneath a frozen sea. Perhaps, standing around, exposed to the cold, in hostile territory is not the best move?” Fandral said sarcastically.

“He’s right,” Sif added, head in a constant swivel, keeping an eye out for trouble. “We haven’t had the best luck lately. Best not to tempt our luck by staying out in the open.”

“And it’s not like the both of you can just open a portal and return us home, we’re fugitives now. Traitors to the Allfather,” Volstagg tugged at his braided beard in frustration, aimless.

Baldrick spoke low, Jotun sentences strung together with ease. He pointed toward the snake’s maw. Somehow, you understood him. Clearly.

“We deal with things as they come. But first, Baldrick says that’s where we need to go,” you nudged your head towards the stone snake.

“You mean… inside the ominous shrine of Jörmungandr?” Fandral laughed, flat and unamused. “No-no-no-no! We should not be walking towards that thing. In fact, it’s a bad omen. Like end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it bad!”

“Would you prefer the cold then?” you raised a brow at him, humorous tone catching everyone by surprise.

Fandral opened his mouth, but came up short. He closed it and shook his head. “Into the snake’s mouth we go.” He led the charge for the foot of the mountain where Hogun stood.

The walk to the snake’s maw was slow. The ice of the sea was fragile, compromised from the new hollow spaces made from the stone construction’s movement. Baldrick was light-footed, jumping from one crack to the next, delicate. You found yourself holding your breath every time a crack formed under his weight.

Heimdall had refrained from asking questions, but you knew he must have had plenty. Hogun’s ear suffered from having to listen to Fandral’s tantrum quietly. Volstagg lagged behind, aided by Sif, whose stare made the nape of your neck prickle. She was dubious of you. You felt as if time had undone itself and you were the outsider again. Her, the watcher.

“Something is weighing on you,” you said.

Heimdall hummed, thoughts distracted by the sound of your voice.

“Why not ask what’s plaguing you?”

He sighed this time, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “You seem… changed.”

You made a fist, stared at your palm that didn’t quite feel like your own and made a curious noise. “I do feel changed.”

“What happened once you crossed into the mirror? How do you have both eyes? Who is the boy? And why did Jotunheim seem to awaken to his presence?”

You chuckled low, “You’ve been wrestling with quite the mysteries, I see.”

“It felt wrong to bombard you with questions. You were barely lucid a few moments ago. Taken by the Transcendence.”

“Transcendence?”

“It’s a common… ailment that afflicts dark magic users. It’s one of the reasons the art form is feared. It was popular amongst my people’s sages.”

“Your people? Not ours?” You read his posture, saw the regret in his jaw when he realised he let something slip. “You’re not Æsir, are you?”

He didn’t say a word. Then it hit you.

“Of course! That’s why you know the ways of dark magic. That’s how you knew about the fairytale of Bor and Bestla. It’s how you knew to come here. To find me. You were there, during the First Great War.”

“It’s no secret.”

“Yet you omitted to mention it. Sounds like a secret to me. Why not tell me?”

“The Great Wars were gruelling. Unkind. And… I made choices…” He trailed off, eyelids heavy.

“That makes you older than Odin, but you don’t look it. How come?”

“My homeworld was known as Vanaheim. The Vanir were healers and poets. Our magic was linked to longevity, childbirth, and foresight. The Æsir were more powerful, stronger, tactical, but they were afraid of dark magic, so they saw us as a threat. My ageing is linked to this power. Slowed by it.”

“That means Odin was your enemy. Once.”

“His father was, yes.” It was evident, from his tone, he wasn’t going to explore that history further.

You changed the subject, afraid to let silence settle, to lose momentum. “Why didn’t you return, to Vanaheim I mean, after the war?”

“I couldn’t.” He rolled up his sleeves to reveal a sigil tattooed near his elbow joint. “The way is sealed for me. Asgard is my home now. Or… was my home.” He heaved a sigh, rolled his shoulders back and looked at you more animatedly. “Now, your turn. What happened once you crossed into the mirror?”

Give and take, you realised what his tactic was and smiled, showing teeth. “Ah, that’s why you told me all that. Cunning.” You spent the rest of the walk filling him in on everything that happened since you were separated.

When you got the snake’s maw, you noticed a stone door sealing the entryway to the strange Jotun structure. It looked similar to a vault. Before you could step forward to investigate, Heimdall pulled you aside to whisper something.

“Be careful around Jotun magic. From what you told me, of how things ended after your encounter with Bestla…” he frowned, unsure of how to word things. Maybe he simply didn’t have a logical reason. He looked to Baldrick, eyebrows drawing upwards ever so slightly. “Just… be careful.”

You squeezed his hand, “I can’t make that promise, but I will be cautious. For you… Father.”

His eyes shot up, compassion shining in them. He looked vulnerable, open and strange… like a father ought when filled with pride.

“I don’t see a key, or a lever anywhere. How are we gonna get it open?” Hogun asked the group after he finished searching the walls and stone carvings for any hidden levers.

Baldrick said something to you in Jotun and then placed his small hand in a groove on the wall. The left side of the snake’s under-mouth glowed with magic. You went over to the right side and placed your own palm in the groove there. The right side lit up with a different coloured magic. Slowly, loudly, the door rolled open, revealing a set of shiny, emerald dark stairs that led deeper into the snake’s pit.

“So we’re literally entering the belly of the beast?” Fandral asked. No one complained. Hogun just shoved him forward. “Well, I’ve had a long run. Couple of centuries. Some forlorn lovers. Few books of poetry…” Fandral’s voice disappeared down the tunnel way, still listing his accomplishments of a full life.

The stairs were winding, following the curves of a snake’s anatomy. The craftsmanship of such a construct was impeccable, and also unbelievable. It was stone, inanimate, hard and set. Yet, the magic that held its walls together, congealed them like glue, pulsed and shivered with a kind of electricity that was alive. It was odd, seeing life in a lifeless thing. Like the Destroyer, but not in the form of a weapon, in the form of architecture.

Baldrick ran his hands along the walls. Runes and drawings foretelling a story. A tragedy from the looks of it. You didn’t bother trying to decipher it like Sif and Heimdall were doing, you just appreciated the beauty of the carvings, imagining a younger Jotunheim, and a calmer people.

Eventually, the steps led you to a large crystalline and stone structure. A splinter of stone pathways diverging from the sharp-angled, dome-like centre, lowering to an oval-shaped annex. Giant archways encircled the annex, all of them leading to a dead-drop and a roiling darkness below. There were two protruding prongs in the epicentre, like key-slots.

The design was familiar, like the branching pathway in Verdenspeil that led to the abyss’ portal way. Baldrick called it by its name: the Through-Way.

The group split in three. Hogun and Fandral marvelled over the architecture. Sif and Hogun both kept their eyes trained on Baldrick. And you and Heimdall to the end of the floor, teetering between the border of endless darkness and the thin pathway leading to the central annex. Heimdall kicked a stone over the edge, waited to hear it plop, but it never did.

“Where are you from, boy?” Volstagg asked, curious of the boy’s knowledge of things. He seemed so much bigger next to Baldrick’s boyish frame. Like a large oak beside a green shoot.

“Now?” Baldrick turned to look at you, an odd expression to him. “I suppose, here. For a while at least.”

“And what of before? Where was your home before? You speak the Jotun tongue, yet you do not look as Giants do.” Sif noted, crossing her arms to seem imposing.

“I was told the Jotun are different here. Just like Jotunheim is different here. My home is similar but different. Warmer. As is our language. And our skin was not enchanted to survive the Endless Winter,” he answered in an airy manner. There was a purposeful vagueness melding truth and uncertainty together. A silverness to his words to the point you wondered if you believed him or simply wanted to. It reminded you of how Loki tended to explain around things in the beginning.

Hogun whistled, turning clockwise on his heel to get the full effect of the room. “I’ve never seen Jotun architecture like this…” He trailed off when he noticed ice, magically frozen and too stubborn to melt, used as plaster between the stone walls that rotated at an almost indiscernible pace. “Are we… moving?”

“Only a little. The ice hurts him.” Baldrick’s small palm was pressed to the wall, as if he could hear the thoughts of stone. “In my home, the snake moves for eternity beneath the sea. But the sea here is cold.” His bright, beautiful face fell. “Everything here is cold…”

Baldrick’s magic spilt outwards, invisible to everyone else. You could feel his sadness. Heimdall twitched beside you and you wondered if he felt it too.

“‘Hurts him?’” Hogun narrowed his eyes at the boy, a comprehensive look taking over. “Y-You can hear it? This… thing we’re inside… is it… alive?”

Baldrick shook his head, removing his palm from the wall, a light dimming in the cracks. “It is alive as much as any enchanted thing is alive. But, its magic is awake with us. And I can feel them…”

Sif turned from a carving she had been gawping at and said, “Them?”

A wind blew past you and Heimdall, and suddenly, you could feel them too. The echoes left behind by those that constructed this snake. Their hopes and dreams, their aura, the faintest whisper of voices. Their presence lived within the walls as magic. An afterimage.

“I feel them too,” you said.

Heimdall nodded in agreement. The other’s reflexively shivered away from the walls, trying to make themselves smaller. As if to toy with them, the walls constricted to swallow the distance.

Fandral made a strange noise and said, “Okay, we survived the belly of the beast, but I think I’ve had my fill. So… what exactly do we do now?”

A fizzling in the back of your mind grew to a cloud, foamy and large in shape. Somehow, you knew the next steps to take. It was just as Bestla said, the way was known to you, like instinct. You knew what the stone snake’s purpose was without context. It was a bi-frost, or… at least similar in function. “Those archways,” you pointed, “they’ll lead us where we need to go.

You took the first steps towards the annex, everyone else waited to take turns, afraid the thin pathway would give in.

You hovered near both of the protruding prongs, arms raising themselves without thought, fingers clamping down on the blunt grooves of either prong. The floor lit up, light shining through cracks. And the whole room shifted, adjusting to your magic. Numbness took over your body, a draining sensation, like the leeching, but kinder. You were a million leagues away from everything. Feeling weightless, an image filled your mind. It was the healing chamber and the sprawling sea near the gleaming, golden palace on Asgard. Loki was hovering in his curtain of golden light, still, quiet. And then, out of the corner of your eye, a swirl of colours gave birth to that very image in one of the archways.

~Odin

Aisling, Captain of the Guard, was beaming in her own right, having delivered the good news to the Allfather. The Destroyer had returned. So too was Bor’s belt back in its rightful place. With warranted cunning, she had purposefully neglected to speak a word of what had happened to Heimdall and the others.

Yet, for some reason, Odin’s bones groaned with discomfort. Not age, premonition. Premonition without vision, simply a sensation. There was power in the air, palpable, just as how the sea’s salt lingers in the air. He could feel the waves of magic trickle into the cosmos. It was subtle but meaningful.

“What of Heimdall, and the girl?” Odin peered at Aisling.

She swallowed, her grin faltering to a grim line. “From the commotion, one of my men gathered that she had disappeared. Heimdall, Sif and the Warriors Three fled without her.”

Odin slumped lower into his chair, a sigh capturing the room into a stoic silence. The room had turned grave indeed, no more smiles of triumph from Aisling and her men. “We mustn’t rest until she is found. It is most impertinent. So much hangs in the balance.”

“B-But… my liege—” Aisling’s second-in-command spoke out of turn, stuttering to gain his place, “—they used dark magic to escape. It is near impossible to track, even with a gifted witch on our side, of which, we have none.”

Aisling glowered at her underling, making him turn pale and skittish under her imposing gaze. “I give you my word, we will find these traitors and bring them before you, my liege.”

“Traitors?” Odin pondered the word, saw how it felt. He decided he didn’t care for it.

Aisling waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. She bowed, turned on her heel and left the room, her men following suit.

Out the window, through the throne room’s glass, a beacon of light, pure as azure, beamed down from the skies into a tower. A nexus point. A magical link. The wind wrestled against him, made walking that much harder, but when Odin got near enough to see where the light came from, he gasped. It was the healing chamber where Loki slept.

Odin hadn’t seen such seamless magic like this since his youth, before his mother’s death.

~Loki

Loki felt warm air blow against his eyelashes. With a jaw popping yawn, he stretched off the table, straightening his back. The library was quiet. And Y/N beamed her playful smile at him from the chair beside him.

“I must have dozed off,” he worked his tender muscles, looking out the window to see a twilight. Strange…

Y/N slid the book he had been reading closer to her, flipping pages absentmindedly, garnering his attention. “My, my… must be such a riveting read for you to spend all day up here, away from me.” She pouted. The words on the page caught his eye, for a second. The page was flooded with strings of letters swishing about, no sentences or structure. For some reason, his mind didn’t seek an explanation as to why the letters on the page were the way they were. It seemed natural, admissible. So, again, he looked away, fixing his attention back on Y/N.

He smirked, leaning close enough to Y/N’s face that he could hear her soft breathing. He whispered in her ear, a hand caressing her cheek, “We both know you’re the most intriguing thing in my life, pet.”

Her face inched closer, eyes focused on Loki’s mouth. Just when he thought she’d take the plunge and close the distance, she withdrew from him. Her arms folded over her chest, “Evidently, not.” She nudged her chin towards the large book.

Oh, he lifted a single brow. “Well…” he swept her wild hair to the side until her neck was fully exposed and bent to place soft, lingering kisses along her exposed skin. “I’ll just have to show you…” He pressed another kiss to her skin, marking a trail to the back of her ear. Feeling a warmth spread when she shivered against him. “just… how… important… you are… to me. How… much… of me… is yours.”

Y/N sighed sweetly when he drew his thumb close to her pulse point, fingers tickling the dip of her clavicle, “You’re off to a good start. But I’m still not convinced.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Feel how radiant she grew with every peppered kiss.

“Good, because I’m far from finished with my little presentation.”

Soon, in a fever, his lips were on hers, and it felt charged, full of potential. A desire to explore, and be explored. He deepened the kiss, finding solace in her body warmth. He felt like he was thawing but he couldn’t tell why.

In his daze, Loki was ignorant to the darkness befalling the room. The slow encroaching shadow that swallowed everything to black. When he broke the kiss, ragged pants making the air feel heated, he opened his eyes and felt a lump settle in his throat.

It was gone. The room. The light. Y/N.

In the darkness, a mist twisted and writhed like the limbs of an octopus, licking the blackened world with frost. Something large and tall, with protruding bone spurs and red eyes, seemed to materialise from the mist. It growled, feral with rage, and moved languid, as a predator does, towards him.

He tried to summon his magic, but it was dormant. Then his rational mind told him what he saw wasn’t real, but the cut that formed after the creature clawed through the air proved him wrong. Next, logic. To flee, but there was nowhere to go. There was nothing. Then his mind flashed back to the book, and how the words were illegible, floating like meat in soup, and his next idea was that this blackened world he was in, wasn’t real. A fabrication.

The creature stalked closer and Loki stayed in place, challenging with a lethal stare, hiding his doubt by balling his hands into white-knuckle fists. Tauntingly, the creature raised its clawed hand high up, the singular digits fusing into a jagged, bony protrusion.

Loki swallowed, too aware of how dry his throat was and how painful the bobbing of his Adam’s apple was. With a slice through the air, the creature bore down all its ferocity in a single attack. Loki felt warm liquid waterfall from his midriff. Before he could look down to see, he was wrenched from the dark world. Pulled by something powerful.

The next moment he blinked, he found himself seated in a meadow, pink flowers blooming with a subtle scent. He felt around his body, searching for a cut or the wetness of blood. But he found none. He was intact. Unscathed.

Something had changed. The world seemed to stretch, becoming brighter. And out near the gleam of sunlight over water, a woman’s figure grew larger. Her hand stretched out towards him. He took it, feeling completely safe once his skin touched hers.

He stood off the ground and shifted so he could see whose hand he held.

“Y/N?” he said, confused for a moment. She looked different, as if she had been unmade and was only just returning to the form he remembered her by. Still captivating, but in a damned sort of way. Darker, thin and tired.

“Loki,” she quivered, a hopeful laugh playing with her vocal cords.

He hugged her tight, shaking with fear that she might disappear if he closed his eyes again. A splitting headache caused him to wrench back and stumble. Gritting his teeth, he sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly to make sure the world was still there each time.

The memories came flooding back. Of what this place was. And why he was so afraid all of a sudden. The constant dreaming, reliving, being hunted by the creature and having it all restart again, aloof and confused. He was in his own personal hel.

Y/N moved closer so she could anchor him, give him something to lean into. He felt relief, but then the mist crept over the meadow, turning petals rigid with frost till they crumbled.

Y/N didn’t notice, too consumed with what was right in front of her; him. “Loki, what’s—”

Hurriedly, he grabbed Y/N’s wrist. She flinched from his callousness. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if she was real or another figment of his imagination. It didn’t matter. He’d protect any version of her. Always.

He looked into her eyes and noticed one was different, golden. A detail he couldn’t dream up. He took a moment to look at her, really look, and he knew she was real. And even if she wasn’t, she was warm and breathing and close. A strange relief despite the turmoil that threatened to tear this fake world away. Again.

“You’re real, aren’t you?” his voice cracked at the end, a little hope hidden there.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She reassured him with a smile and a soft reply, “Yes.”

If she’s real… What happens when the nightmare gets her?

The gloom stretched further, stealing colour and life from the sky now. The flowers were all shiny and wet, like glass.

He pulled her further away from the mist, backtracking as the creature began to form again. Dread in his gut.

Her eyes widened, staring into the encroaching shadow, “What is that?”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

To be continued...

#loki #loki x y/n #loki odison x reader #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #y/n #loki mcu #tom hiddelston imagine #himmeløyne #loki x you #loki fanfic

23 notes · View notes

forthehpfanboys · 4 years

Text

Calling It Even

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You just moved 'across the pond' from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, but before you actually moved you'd made a friend! Well, two and you just so happen to bump into them at the Leaky Couldren!

Warnings: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive (Ron's raging hormones™).

Note: Hi! This is my first time writing and posting a fic in a few years, so I'm sorry for spelling errors or stupid mistakes! It'll get better as I rewarm my.. Writing.. Muscles? Anyway, Thank you for reading! Let me now if this is good and enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Moving from the US to Britain was just as stressful as you figured it would be, but going from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts felt like an actual asteroid was thrown into your world. You had to leave behind your friends, close relatives and of course your home, then you had a whole new school to deal with on top of that. Different houses, different teachers, different classes and the rules. Merlin's beard, were the rules different. You can distinctly remember bombarding your guardian with question after question. You were still surprised you got to carry your wand around with you outside of school! Of course the actual moving process had taken its toll on your guardians, and they knew what it was doing to you. You were tired, emotionally, physically- Godric, did you need a break before school started.

You would be starting your fifth year when summer ended, and that was in a few weeks or so. This should’ve given you the time to gather up the books, potion supplies and robes needed, maybe even find some friends your age, but you had other plans, apparently. You had spent the entire summer huddled over their desk waiting for an owl to return with a response letter and avoiding the cluttered shopping strip. You didn’t wanna tackle getting lost and missing a response from your favorite redheads. Now, your headmaster at Ilvermorny had recommended you create a quill-pal at Hogwarts so it felt less chaotic when you arrived, but you ended up finding two that were the pure embodiment of chaos.

So, technically, you did end up making friends with the program, just not what you expected. Each letter was seemingly cut in half, one with orange ink, one with purple. In said response, you learned the orange was usually Fred and purple was usually Georges. In said letters, you learned they are two years older than you, live in what they call a ‘Burrow’ and owning their own shop was definitely wrapped in their future. You spent a solid year getting to know the Infamously Famous,Charming and Totally Destructive personality of the Weasley Twins. Honestly, you seriously looked forward to seeing them in person, even if it was their last year. You three managed to get along like you’d known each other their entire lives. Best part is they promised to find you on the first day and show you around!

You remember Fred mentioning their roles on the Quidditch team and George saying something about pranks with fireworks and you knew. Oh, you knew the three of you would cause chaos and you were so excited. The red-headed duo also promised they’d introduce you to their friends and their extensive family. Fred had brought up having a younger brother your age and judging from the cluttered moving photo they sent you, he was awkward but in the best way. You managed to remember the names of the red-headed family members only because of the scribbled writing on said photo pointing out who was who. But for whatever reason, the youngest Weasley son always manages to be the first one you notice yourself staring at. He was genuinely really cute. Blue eyes, freckles, red hair, absolutely adorable- Ok. So you may have a crush on him without even knowing him but you can not blame yourself. The twins told you stories about the younger redhead and he only got cuter as time went on, but I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

Currently, you are walking down Diagon Alley. Not only did you need a break from unpacking, sorting and waiting for the Weasley's owl to return, but you also needed to restock on quills. Yup. Of all things, quills. (P/n) has this terrible chewing habit and adores the flavor of quills, or so you guess. You loved the rascal to bits, but damn, they ate the feathers like they drank water. Your guardian said they would finish unpacking the very few boxes your family were collectively avoiding while you went shopping down the popular alley. Oh! And speaking of water, you glanced up from the cobblestone pathway and noted the Leaky Cauldron sign hanging a few shops down. You’d heard stories of how comfortable the atmosphere of the little restaurant had been from the Weasleys and you couldn’t help but overhear wizards and witches around you chatting it up about possibly getting a butterbeer. You decided, why not? Could spare a few coins to buy the golden drink or maybe just a water. It was, like, 90 degrees outside and the cluttered path way didn’t help the soft summer breeze flow through at all.

You gently nudged your way through the bustling crowd of wizards and witches and pushed open the creaky old door. The smell of sweetness and smoke hit your noise as you stepped in, your eyes briefly wandering over the crowd, looking for an empty table. Once you spotted a table for two in the corner, you gently shuffled past crowded tables and rushed waiters apologizing as you went by. Finally sitting down at the small table, you let out a relieved sigh, not noticing a set of eyes following your every movement. Your eyes easily wandered around the shop but landed on piercing blue across the small restaurant. You immediately snapped your gaze to the fire pit and walls, choosing to avoid the gaze until a server walked over. You were tracing the gray, worn down bricks of the wall right next to you when an older woman in a simple uniform walked over the table.

“Good evenin, love. What can I get you?” she casted a bright smile your way, her hands in the small pocket of her apron as she waited for a response.

“Just a butterbeer, please.” You managed to stutter out, sending her a shy smile back. She nodded her head and headed off to another table after putting in your order.

Once she left, your eyes met a set of blue eyes once again. The longer you looked, the more you thought they were formilair, but you turned away, choosing not to dwell on anything besides the table that was placed in front of you. You were so busy tracing the grooves in the old wooden table, you didn’t notice the owner of the blue eyes nudge the red-head next to him and point in your direction. What finally brought you out of the tracing trance was a glass mug filled with liquid golden and soft foam slide toward you, followed by the sound of chairs scraping the old wooden floor and a distinct female voice calling out “where are you two going now?” Your hands wrapped around the glass and just before you could bring it to your lips, two people moving toward the table got your attention. You turned to look up and almost choked on air, your chest shaking as you coughed causing your mug to nearly empty all over the table. You didn’t even have time to fully register who was advancing closer because the warm drink was flowing off the table and onto your new shirt.

“Shit-!” You grumbled down at the spilt mess. Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you placed the mug down hoping to save what was left in it as you grabbed napkins.

“Now, I knew we shocked people, but I had no idea we had this kind of effect, Georgie.” Fred spoke and took up the seat across from you, causing his twin to let out a snort. Your head shot up at the sound of the British accent. He'd managed to effectively put a stop to you drying up the mess with one sentence. Fred grabbed a few to help wipe down the table, but was far more focused on your reaction. Your eyes snapped over to George as he leaned on the back of his brother's chair and flickered between the two freckle covered idiots. You made a mental note of who was who.

“Do you always sneak up on your victims or do you introduce yourselves like normal people?” You scoffed out, a smile growing on your face as you awkwardly piled up the useless napkins.

“We only sneak up on people we’ve been friends with for years and finally get to meet.” George spoke, sass laced in his voice.

“Oh please. It’s been like 1 year.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your cup again and taking a small sip.

“And I don’t think we got an anniversary gift from you, love. I believe you owe us an apology. Missing our 1 year anniversary like that.” Fred spoke, a hand going to his chest in fake shock as George just tsked and shook his head responding with his own ”Shame, really.”

You let out your own soft laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I'm sorry.” You spoke setting your glass down again, sarcasm dripping from you as you crossed your arms over the table and leaned forward. “I didn’t realize I got something from you two for our ‘one year anniversary’.” You used air quotes, outlining the obvious.

“Godric, it’s so good to meet someone who finally matches our sass level.” Fred smiled at you. “But how did you not see us?” he used his thumb to point at a table behind him, almost taking out George's eye.

“Oi. Watch it.” the ever so slightly younger twin shoved the hand in his face away.

“Well, obviously, I didn’t expect you to run into you guys here.” You spoke, finishing the little amount of what was left of the butterbeer. After wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you shot the two a playful glare. “You owe me a drink.”

“Or you can meet Ickle Ronniekins and we can call it even.”

“That doesn’t even come close to equal.” You whined, sitting back in your chair, your head hitting the wall behind you a little too sharply. As much as you wanted to meet the younger bro, you were nervous. You may have let it slip out to the brothers that you desperately wanted to get to know Ron, but what if he didn't like you?

It didn't matter what you thought. You didn’t have a choice because the two may or may not have shipped you two, but that’s for them to know and for you to never, ever, ever find out. The twins let out a laugh at your demise and both stood up, one grabbing the empty mug and the other practically dragging you out of your cozy corner.

“I say it’s fair.” George spoke, following the older redhead who was almost quit literally dragging you by the arm. The two idiots led you to a table in the middle, where it was borderline empty besides 3 people sitting, all chatting to themselves. The chatting came to a stop when George set your mug down in the middle and Fred forced you to sit across from another redhead, who you quickly recognized.

“Um, Fred..” The witch next to Ron spoke up just as Fred sat to your left and George to your right. “Who is this?”

“This, Granger, is our quill-pal, (Y/n). He comes from America and just transferred over. Good old quill-pal (Y/n), meet Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and our own little Ickle Ronniekins.” Fred pointed to each witch and wizard, pointing them out so you could put names to faces. The nickname caused Ron to groan out a ‘shod off, Fred’, to which the older brother just snickered.

“Oh, hi! I��ve heard alot about you guys.” You smiled, casting them a small wave. Your accent, to them, was very interesting. It was so different from what they were used to, which definitely wasn’t a bad thing. They actually thought it fit you really well.

“Well, (y/n), it’s great to meet you.” Harry spoke up, a smile replacing the confused expression he once held. He was just relieved you weren’t asking for an autograph or constantly shaking his hand. It was refreshing.

“Likewise!” You flashed a smile to the messy raven haired dude before stretching back in your chair, head turning, trying to avoid the twins in his view to find a waitress. You gave up on searching when the twins purposefully blocked your view and Ron cleared his throat.

“Wait.. This is (y/n)? The bloak you guys don’t shut up about?” Ron pointed at you, almost as if accusing you of causing him pain. The twins nodded their heads, in sync, while landing a kick to both of his legs. “Ow-! I'm just asking!” he rubbed his bruised shins and rested his chin on the table so he could shoot them a glare. “Arse holes.” He grumbled. The twins gave him a sort of look that meant ‘shut up or we will not hesitate to strike again’ and honestly, Ron felt a tiny bit of fear enter his soul and his glare dropped.

“Aww! Did you two really mention me that much? I’m flattered, boys!” A confident smirk stretched across your face as the twins blushed ever so slightly, George a little redder than Fred.

“No.” They countered.

“Yes.” Ron groaned out, wanting revenge for the kicks. ”Merlin. They’d go on and on about how cool you were. ‘Ma, he said he plays Quidditch, too! Can we get the booms out?’, ‘His favorite color is (f/c) and his favorite animal is (f/a)! We should work on (f/c) (f/a) fireworks for him!’. My family officially knows more about you than I know about the Chudley Cannons.” He ran his right hand through his hair and his left waved around as he spoke. You couldn’t help but snicker. “It’s been actual hell. I’m just glad you're here so they can shut up.”

Harry nudged his best friend in the side before speaking. “Hey, be nice, This is probably their first crush!” The comment caused Hermione to almost snort butterbeer, Ron let out a very loud laugh and you to high five Harry meanwhile the twins turned redder than their quidditch uniforms.

“Oi, Potter. I will burn your broomstick.” Fred threatened, pointing at the boy who lived.

“Aw come on Freddie, be nice. It isn’t their fault you gave them the material for this. Relax, bud.” You shoved his hand away.

George took your mug and slid it out of your reach and to the end of the table. “Well, we were gonna buy you another drink, but since you're being an arse, you're not getting a sickle from us.” George turned to you and stuck out his tongue.

The simple banter continued as the 6 of you sat in front of the simple fireplace, laughter filling the little stone eatery. You had known the group in person for about 15 minutes and you already fit in like a puzzle piece. After a few more butter beers and another 15 minutes later, the 6 of you had decided to go on the hunt for some goodies, so you all paid for the drinks and led the cluttered restaurant. Fred and George started off leading the group, but got sidetracked at Zonko’s. Hermione had practically dragged Harry off into Flourish and Blotts when he mentioned not having his school supplies. That left you and Ron alone to get to know eachother better.

“So, what’s Ilvermorny like?” He asked, his hands in his pockets as he walked beside you.

“Well.. " you hesitated."Definitely different, if what Fred and George said was true. We don’t have a sorting hat, instead statues would pick who they want. It’s a whole history thing. Everyone's robes are blue and this reddish color, so i'm excited for a change! And jeez, the wand rules. They're, at least, 10 times stricter than here. I had to get sorted before I could even hold a wand and Ilvermony students can’t legally have wands until their 17. Bullshit if you ask me.” You scoffed. “I was put in Wampus. I guess that's a cool thing.” This caused Ron to let out a snort and a cackling laugh.

“I’m sorry- you got put in what??” He turned to you, a huge smile on his lips.

“A-A wampus?” You spoke, hoping he’d ignore the stutter. You ended up staring at his smiling face, making a promise to make him laugh whenever it was physically possible. It was so perfect.

“Aaaanndd that is what, exactly?” The redhead's smile turned into a small smirk as he responded. “Is it like- like a creature or a plant? It sounds like a plant-”

“How on earth does Wampus sound like a plant??” You looked at him with a confused expression. Your arm shot out to punch his bicep lightly. “Of course it’s a creature, Ronald!”

You went on to explain all about what a wampus was, however, Ron was no longer listening. He was slowly drifting toward the quidditch shop, his jaw practically on the floor. He pressed his freckled covered hands to the glass window of the shop.

“You really must be yanking my wand! Do you see this?!” The redhead was drooling over a brand new broom. The little plastic sign next to the window model read ‘Firebolt Y.5’

“Oh my go-Is that-” You stood next to him, a look of shock. “How did I walk past this shop and NOT see this??” You grabbed his arm and whisked him away from the window, bringing him into the shop. Quidditch, of course, was your favorite sport. You were even on the Wampus quidditch team! You played a seeker and you loved to believe you were the best! “Oh my god, yes. If I had this across the pond” you spoke while pointing at the brooms hanging on the walls, "I'd be the best damn seeker in Ilvermorny history!” You all but squealed out.

While you were ranting about the possibilities of owning this bad boy, Ron was noticing something. He was noticing, since you grabbed his arm, he wanted to hold your hand. He was noticing how your eyes lit up while you were talking about destroying other teams on the fields and how big your smile was and how cute- Cute. Cute?

Wait.

Hold on. Cute? You? He thought he thought Hermione was cute? But now, now it was you. You suddenly clouded his mind and he'd only know you for less than an hour? He blamed his hormones.. Or maybe it was the way your eyes were sparkling so much more when compared to the photo you sent his brothers. Or your stupid perfect hair was so perfect even if it was a mess from constantly running your fingers through it. Every freckle, every mole, every dimple on your skin, he wanted to memorize it all. Suddenly, you turned to him, the smile wider than before. Shit, you were waiting for a response, but he was too wrapped up in how perfect you were for him to think straight.

“WhUt?” His voice cracked as he basically shouted at you. His face turned pink with embarrassment, but it transformed into a color to rival the Gryffindor red he usually sported during the school year. The poor git basically melted into a puddle when he heard you let out a giggle.

“I was asking if you wanted to split the cost! Fred and George told me when Harry got his Firebolt, but I bet it’s nothing compared to this baby. We could split it!” You were basically jumping up and down.

Ron blinked a few times, his brain trying to process everything. “Split?”

“Yes, Ronnie. Split.” You giggled, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to your side.

“Ronnie split.” He muttered without realizing it. “OH! Oh- The broom! Split the broom! Cost! Right!” he ran a hand through his hair, his entire face felt hot. Ron was sure his face was blending in with his red locks. “I-I can check! With Fred and George and- and we see?” He squeaked, noticing how close he was to you. He audibly gulped, his tongue poking out to lick his suddenly dry lips.

“Cool! We could all share it!” You reached into your pocket, pulling out all the coins nestled in your pocket. As you counted over the coins, the only words that stuck in Ron’s head were ‘we’ ‘share’ and he could basically hear sirens going off. You’d already gotten to know his older brothers. What if you already liked one? Or both? He didn’t even know if you were single.

“Ah- Well i'm sure we can just handle it. Just the two of us.” He clapped his hands together, choosing not to think of how much attention the noise brought him. You looked at him with a confused expression but let it be with a shrug.

“If you say so, Ronnie.” You smiled, shaking your head. You had no idea the redhead was avoiding the idea of his brothers sharing you instead of the broomstick.”Iiisss there a reason you don’t wanna share?” You asked as you shoved your hands in your pockets, putting the coins away. You missed Ron's face turning bright red as you gazed on at the Chudley Cannons merchandise hanging off the walls.

“I-I’m just sick of sharing with my siblings, y-ya know?” His voice cracked as he spoke, but he tried to cover it up with a cough. “Um.. I do have a lot of older brothers, so hand-me-downs are really all I get-”

“Oooh, right. Right. That’s fair.” you looked down at your feet. You forgot. Gerd and Feorge didn't throw it in your face, but they did mention when money got tight and how they planned on opening a joke shop and how they told their products to kids for extra cash. You should've remembered. You cleared your throat, your eyes darting to him, to the door back to him. Desperate for a way to change the atmosphere, you offered leaving the store. "Honeydukes?” you asked way too loudly in the small shop. ”Wanna.. Go to Honeydukes?" You cleared your throat into your hand. Ron couldn't have agreed fast enough.

The two of you walked out of the store, making small, awkward talk as you continued your stroll across the stoley path. When you came up to Honeydukes Ron, to your surprise, hurried to the door and held it open for you. As you walked in, he did a playful bow as if you were royalty. It brought a smile to your face and things fell into the rhythm from before.

"I'm not too keen on pumpkin pasties, but I do love chocolate frogs. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being put on one of the cards, but that kinda faded. I’m thinking maybe a famous quidditch player? Not quite sure yet." You rambled as Ron grabbed what someone might consider way too much of the chocolate treat. He would call that someone insane and double the batch. While he was literally filling his arms with the small boxes, you were busy looking at the candy wands, your mouth practically drooling at the idea of sweets. "We don't have a lot of this across the pond." you muttered to yourself as you reached across a table to grab a few different boxes of candy you've never tried before, one being Bertie Bott’s Everything Flavored Beans.

"Really? What are you used to?" Ron spoke up behind you, his eyes going from the candy resting in your hands to your forearm. The redhead found his eyes trailing up and landing on your bicep, causing his mind to wonder and basically dive head first into the gutter.

"Well, we had candies like Skittling Soot Poppers. They're these dark chocolate little balls that pop in your mouth once the chocolate melts. It's so cool! If you put one in your mouth and keep it open, sparks will come out. All kinds of colors, too." you smiled, remembering staying up far too late into the night with your Wumpas housemates and munching away. "Oh! And these little cakes called Twinkles. They would glitter like gold in the moonlight, but turn silver in the sun. They always taste like vanilla and cream."

Ron gulped. We all know what he's thinking at this point. He'd love to try some cream, and not the filling of the Twinkles, if ya catch my drift. He blinked out of a fantasy and shook his head. Bad Ronald. He scolded himself, but was yeeted out of his head when he heard you laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" his head tilted like a confused puppy, one of the chocolate frogs falling from the top of the pile and landing with a soft thud. As you bent down to pick up the box for him, you answered his question.

"Nothing, you're just being cute." you set the chocolate frog box on top of his pile and began down the aisle way.

"W.. Wait, really?!"

His response brought a snort out of you. He sounded so excited it made your heart jump. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Ronnie. Godric, even that was cute." You spoke as you turned the corner and headed down a new aisle. Your eyes scanned along the other treats laid out on the shelves while your hand grabbed a few sugar quills. “Ok, I think we got enough now. What do ya think?” You turned to where you thought he was, but your view lacked the pale freckled boy. “Ron?” Your voice carried through the store. “Ronnie?” You called out again as you went to the last aisle you saw him at. When your head popped around the corner you were met with a sight you thought was kodiak worthy.

There he was, bright red in the face, bright wide blue eyes standing out against his red skin, mouth hanging open and every chocolate frog box laying at his feet. You broke him. How the hell did he manage to get cuter?

“Ron?” Your legs moved without you even demanding them too and soon you stood in front of him. Has he even blinked? Is.. Is he ok? Shifting the candies in your arms, you managed to free a hand to gently close his mouth. “Hello? Are the lights on inside?”

“You said I was cute.” You were lucky you heard him over the crowded shop.

“Yes, Red.” You spoke, a giggle escaping your lips. “We established this already.” You shook your head, but it was halted when his blue eyes finally landed on your own, causing a heat to spread to your ears.

“Yeah.. But what KIND of cute?”

“Kind? What?”

“There are different kinds. Like am I cute like a crup or am I.. Am.. Like am I romantic-” He froze again when you leaned over and kissed his cheek, hopefully answering his question. You chose to ignore the grumpy customers trying to fit down the aisle and, instead, rested your hand on his hand. You would’ve held it but the stupid boxes of cursed choco frogos where in the way. “I hope that was ok.” You, also, chose to ignore his tiny, squeaky ‘bloody hell’ and dragged him to the counter.

“Ya know, when your brothers told me about you, I couldn’t get you out of my head.” You confessed, laying all the candy out on the counter and turned to him again. His blush had died down and he wasn’t as jumpy or frozen. Ron followed suit and dumped the boxes onto the counter and immediately whipped his hands on his jeans.

“I-I was glad I got to hear about you everyday.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at his shoes. “I um- I wanted to write, but uh, thought it would be weird.” He didn’t turn to look at you but his crystal blue eyes bounced between you, the candy and the glass counter in front of him. “A-and I’d love to get to know you more. And m.. Maybe do this again? Just you and me? Again?”

Your face almost split in two as you felt Ron’s hand brush against yours.. “I would absolutely adore to do this again, Ronnie.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, his blush coming back easily, causing you to let out a chuckle. While you did end up paying for most of the candy and forgetting about the quills, you managed to leave hand in hand with the red haired Chudley Cannon loving dork. Of course this caused the twins to tease you relentlessly about falling so hard for their baby brother. Hell, they even made a lame song, something about ‘Ronnie I love you’ and ‘when we’re apart my heart beats only for you’. It literally never stopped. In fact it got worse as time went on, especially when you were sorted into Gryffindor once school started.

Oh, but was so worth it.

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #male reader #fred and george #hp x male reader #hp imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

302 notes · View notes

a-square-minus-one · 3 years

Text

Honey 8

The outline for this chapter was much longer but I didn’t have time to actualize it :( More to come soon! <3

Raven can sense that things are going to go wrong the minute the tip of her toe lands gently against the pavement. She rushed over to the park, making it there much quicker than any of her teammates in order to scope out the situation. And immediately she feels anxiety wrap its fingers around her spine through her skin. She stands in front of four of her brothers, who stand in a semi-circle formation. Malchior is leaning against a tree off to the side, grinning. She looks around. They emptied the park?

“Sister, nice to meet you,” Wrath acknowledges, looking characteristically serene against the bright blue sky. He stood as if his ginormous, bulging body was weightless. Raven eyes Gluttony who’s a part of the circle but standing a little further back. His cheeks hollow as he sucks roughly on a lollipop. He’s skinny enough for the wind to blow him over even though Raven suspects he probably eats enough for eight or nine athletes in one day. He stands a foot and a half shorter than Lust and the difference is even more extreme between him and Wrath who must be at least a few inches taller than Cyborg and impossibly wider. She runs her eyes to Envy who's eyeing her from head to feet, lip twitching. His chin is tilted up and his arms are crossed over his chest.

They aren’t fighting anyone.

Or killing anyone.

Or making anyone fight or kill each other.

The wind rustles the leaves in the trees around them.

“You called my team over for a conversation?” Raven asks, peaking at Malchior who winks at her. Judging by the way Lust and Gluttony are looking at the sky behind her, her team has just reached the park. Raven doesn’t look back to know they are currently getting into formation behind her.

“You came. We never beckoned you,” Wrath says, hands behind his back. Raven rolls her eyes.

“But you knew the presence of all five of you, in the open, would alert us,” Raven clarifies. Wrath nods once, smoothly.

“Indeed.”

And then no one moves. Or says anything.

Wrath assesses her whole team much like she assessed them. A small smile plays on his lips.

“We do not have to fight one another sister.”

Raven arcs an eyebrow.

“Join our side. We can spare your friends. Perhaps you can negotiate positions of power for them in our new world.”

“Yes because deals with the devil are almost always honored.”

Raven notes how Wrath’s smirk never reaches his eyes. It’s more of a slight tick in the corner of his lips. It’s the most unnatural part of his appearance. He’s completely comfortable in his weight and height. “Very human of you to make things so dichotomous. Devil bad. Human good. You know very well we can only play with people’s natural tendencies. We could never make something out of nothing.”

“Very demonic of you to think manipulation is so much holier.”

“There can be honor even amongst the worst of beings.”

Wrath purses his lips, looking off into the distance. He rubs his hands together.

“Dragon,” Wrath says once, continuing to look off into the distance. Suddenly Malchior’s giant chest is expanding towards them, his claws pushing pounds of dirt into their face as he digs them into the ground. Terra is quick to stop the mounds of dirt from hitting her teammates. Raven has only a few seconds to put up a quick barrier as she watches Malchior inhale a giant breath. Even with the barrier the whole team is still smacked with an incredible wall of heat, like they had just opened an oven. Flames flicker up the edges of the wall of her black energy.

“Dragon!” Raven yells through her gritted teeth, looking back at Garfield. Garfield rolls his shoulders a couple times. “Anytime now,” Raven says, pushing against the force of Malchior’s fiery exhale. She focuses her attention forward, ensuring her friends are protected

“I do this everyday,” Garfield drones. Raven rolls her eyes and looks back. She’s met with the muscular underside of Garfield’s belly: The sun reflects off of his shiny scales. Her barrier falters completely but Malchior has stopped blowing.

“That’s-“ Raven starts, her eyes trailing up Garfield’s long neck. The sunlight behind his head is blocking her view of his face.

“Sexy,” Terra finishes for her and she has to swallow because the word fits a little too perfectly in her sentence starter. Raven shakes her head and flies up the length of Garfield’s neck. He meets her halfway and bends his head to her. She quickly straddles one of the ridges on his forehead. She places her hands on his head.

Garfield, you’ll be able to hear my voice in your head but I’m not going to be going through anything. I’ve just put up a field-

Raven’s distracted as Garfield blows fire at Malchior’s underbelly. Suspiciously close to his-

Garfield!

What? The prick loves talking about his dick so much, might as well put a spotlight on it.

I should explain the link a little-

What’s there to explain? I can hear you, you can hear me...

Gar-

Rae, you can poke and prod-

Garfield pauses to deflect Malchior’s fiery breath.

-whatever you want. Poke and prod whatever you need to so we can stick this asshole back in his fucking book. I trust you…but it’s kinda hard to chit chat. I’m new to this whole dragon thing.

...I won’t invade your thoughts.

Didn’t think you would. Garfield thinks flippantly before charging at Malchior. Hold on tight.

Garfield takes a quick, open clawed swing at Malchior, immediately forming three, long, oozing stripes in the dragon’s neck.

Okay this guy clearly knows nothing about hand to hand.

Raven is rocked forward, her head smacks against Garfield’s.

What the-

Raven notes how the ground shifts like waves beneath them before she’s rocked backwards.

Fly off the ground, He’s trying to dislodge me.

But Garfield was already hovering above the shaking ground before Raven finished her sentence.

Clearly that man has never seen me with a few Jacks in me. If I can keep my balance then-

You’re a messy drunk; now pay attention!

Hey! Cyborg says I’m a great drinking buddy!

Cyborg? Also a messy drunk!

Hey, you’d be a messy drunk too if you-

Suddenly Garfield’s head swings around like a bobble head. He’s gurgling. Raven clenches her thighs over the ridge on his forehead and narrows her eyes towards Malchior who is a football field away. Malchior’s claws are clenched around an invisible object.

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” Raven calls out, wrapping Malchior’s arms in dark energy and locking them over his head. Garfield coughs, little sparks passing his lips.

Did he just? Choke me?

Will you pay attention now?!

How was I supposed to know he was going to choke me?! He was nowhere near me!

He can astrally project!

He should see a therapist about that.

He should see a therapist about a lot of things. Astral projection is not one of them. Watch-

Garfield dodges Malchior’s frontal attack.

-out…

Raven puts up a shield as Malchior shoots fire at her. Garfield shoots fire at Malchior’s open wound. The black dragon hisses and falls back.

The man is terrible at hand to hand combat.

He’s...not.

Garfield grabs Malchior by the tail and tosses him, cutting a bunch of trees in half.

Are you really defending your psycho ex?

Raven purses her lips. Garfield. This is too easy.

Raven looks around. Starfire is locked in a grip with Wrath. Nightwing and Cyborg are tag teaming Lust and Wrath. Terra is mostly just trying to block Gluttony’s attack; no one has taken the offensive against him. Aqualad is jumping between each group and filling in whatever gaps are left open.

She believed fully in her team’s potential to stop her brothers. But something wasn’t right. Garfield was able to toss Malchior like a rag doll and they’re the same weight.

He’s barely casting any spells.

You’re always saying that a good spell requires a lot of energy.

For me. Malchior has done this for centuries.

Malchior charges at Garfield. Garfield takes two quick steps backwards, kicking up chunks of Earth that Terra uses to block the two benches Gluttony hurls at the team. Garfield bites at the wounds in Malchior’s neck. The black dragon howls in pain, aimlessly spewing a stream of fire past his lips. Directly past the bulk of Garfield’s body.

Raven watches intently as the flames meet their mark several hundred feet away from Garfield. She almost brushes off Malchior’s poor marksmanship as a result of his incredible hubris. It’s a weak, last ditch effort to inflict pain from a losing opponent whose head is heavy with unwarranted pride. She’s about to move her eyes back to where Garfield’s teeth are sunk into their opponents neck when she notices something almost imperceptible in the flames. A shape. Two little deformed circles, almost parallel to each other. She squints her eyes. That’s odd.

And then it hits her.

Those are eye sockets.

Malchior had casted a spell.

They hadn’t emptied the park.

Everyone was camouflaged.

Garfield!

Garfield sinks his teeth deeper into Malchior’s neck. Malchior spews out another thick stream of fire.

Garfield! The park isn’t empty.

Garfield spits Malchior’s neck out of his mouth, blood immediately begins oozing out of the black dragon’s wounds.

What?

Raven looks around. Trees were knocked over. Car windows were broken. Street lights were bent in half. Sidewalk had been ripped from the ground. Her eyes land on a playground three hundred feet away. Entire chunks of bright yellow and red steel were turned on their sides. She feels hot liquid rises in her esophagus, burning away at her body. Her skin suddenly feels too tight.

The park’s not empty. Malchior just made everyone invisible to us.

Garfield grabs Malchior by the neck and shoves his head into the ground.

“Uncast the spell,” Raven threatens, using her powers to hover the sharp end of a street light over Malchior’s eye. Malchior looks towards the rod, chuckles and crumples it. Garfield shoves his head deeper into the ground. Malchior spits some blood into the ground.

“You tethered me to that book. The walls were my only companions! We could have ruled the world!” Malchior screams, spitting blood in her face. She grabs him by the neck herself.

“Uncast. The. Spell,” Raven says, trying to reign in her desire to tear the dragon apart limb by limb between each word.

“No.”

Raven, you have to tell the rest of the team before they accidentally hurt anyone else.

He’ll transform you.

Not if I detach his head from his body first.

Raven notes how Garfield tightens his palm around the semi-conscious dragon’s neck.

Garfiel-

Get Aqualad. He’ll cover my ass.

Raven makes quick work of teleporting Aqualad over to the group.

“The park’s not empty. Malchior cloaked everyone in an invisibility spell.” Raven tells him before he can even steady his feet. “You need to stay with Garfield while I inform the rest of the team and figure out how to reverse the spell.”

Be careful Garfield.

She places a gentle hand on her friend’s forehead.

I’ll do my best.

#bbrae

14 notes · View notes

gremlin-writes-angst · 3 years

Text

Just A WingMan

Denki Kaminari and Katsuki Bakugou unknowingly in love with each other. Eijiro Kirishima, Denki’s wing man, also in love with Denki, makes a plan to get Denki’s to like him back, backfires and leaves him heartbroken, and he is the only one he can blame.

This is a one-shot ( Unless I'm encouraged to do more)

TW: None, possible cursing

Let me know if I missed a trigger or you find spelling mistakes

Feedback is encouraged

Click here If you like this and want to see more of my work

Kirishima’s POV

Denki had been begging me to help him with his crush for a week and I was reluctant to help because I love him as more than a friend and it will be hard to watch him be in a relationship, especially if I was the one who got the two together. I know it’s not manly but the best I can wish for is that Denki's crush doesn't like him back, then Denki can get over them and fall for me.

I thought I had done a good job avoiding Denki but somehow I ended up in Denkis room listening to him beg for me to be his wingman. I told him that I would help if he told me who it was he liked, I thought that he had too much to prove to tell me but then he shouted.

"I'm in love with Bakugou!"

I thought it was a joke

" Oh you mean Mitsuki Bakugou, Katsuki’s mom?"

" No, I mean Katsuki Bakugou, boom boom boy, the angry Pomeranian. I love Katsuki Bakugou!"

I freeze, it's shocking, Katsuki, the guy who acts like he's above everyone else, the one who calls Denki stupid and dunce face. If I was being honest I was hoping that it was me that Denki had a crush on, it would make sense, he refused to tell me the name of his crush, and he used ‘strong’ to describe them multiple times, and I believe I’m strong. I took the time to process Denkis confession, this wasn't that bad. Like I thought earlier but bakugou is a jerk to Denki and everyone else, there’s no way that he likes Denki back, they would be a terrible couple. All I have to do is agree to be Denkis wingman, tel bakugou, he'll tell me that he doesn’t like Denki back, I tell Denki and he comes to me for comfort, and over time he’ll get over bakugou and fall for me. I’m brilliant

“ I’ll do it, I can do it right now.”

“ Wait really, I mean right now what if he’s busy?“

I watched Denki become more worried and anxious, I mean I would be too if I was going to confess to Katsuki Bakugou

“ It will be fine, and I know his schedule. he should have been done with his workout and shower about 15 minutes ago, and the only thing he does for the rest of the day is eat and sleep, and if something goes wrong, I’ll be there for you.”

“I know it’s just, it’s nerve-racking, and I'm so glad that you’re here for me, you are the best wingman anyone could ask for.”

Denki hugs me and I almost forget my plan, I just want to skip to the part where we are together and these hugs will last forever. He lets go too soon and shoves me toward the door

“ Now go before I stop you.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice, I make my way to Bakugou's dorm, I rehearse how it will go. Knowing Bakugou he'll want me gone as soon as possible, he probably won’t even let me in, I don’t have a problem with that cause the sooner this part is over the sooner Denki will fall for me. I’ve got this, I breathe in and out and then knock on Bakugou's dorm

No One’s POV

It takes a while for Bakugou to get to the door, he was tired from his workout and was currently in a state of self-loathing. He read and watched romance but felt that it would never be something he could have. He wasn’t about to let any of those extras see him like this so he had to collect himself. Opening and leaning on the door he “politely” greets Kirishima

“ What do you want Shittyhair?”

“ Well, it’s actually about Denki.”

Bakugou perks up at the mention of his crush’s name. He knows it’s strange but he couldn’t stop it, as much as he tried, he learned that all those books were right about love, it’s not a choice and it wasn’t easy. Kirishima continues when he notices that Bakugou isn’t gonna talk or anything.

“ He asked me to be his wingman and I agreed but the problem is, there’s no way his crush likes him back.”

Bakugou tsk’s at that statement, he thought it was absurd, a person who doesn’t like Denki. Now that Bakugou knew what this conversation was about, he no longer wanted to be a part of it, well he didn’t have much interest in it beforehand either. He didn’t want to discuss the love life of his crush, if it didn’t involve him, he was also worried about exposing his crush on Denkis, cause he didn’t have great control of his emotions, especially jealousy, which this conversation was bound to make him.

“I don’t care, go tell the fucker about Denki’s love, so then he can get over them.”

“And fall for me’” Both men thought. Kiri moves on to the next step of the plan

“ Ok, um, Denki likes you Bakugou, but I think it’s best if I reject him for you. You can be kind of insensitive when it comes to love.”

This was true, although Kirishima wanted Bakugou to reject Denki, he also didn’t want Denki to feel worse, just cause Bakugou doesn’t know how to politely reject someone. While Kirishima turns to leave, Bakugou grabs his arm, he’s still trying to process what Shittyhair just said.

“Denki like’s me but I’m mean to him? I call him Dunceface, and he likes me?”

Not realizing he said that out loud until Kirishima replies

“ Yeah I think it’s weird too, that’s why I’ll reject him for you!”

“NO, I mean you can’t do that.”

Bakugou pulls Kirishima into his room and shuts the door, even behind the door Bakugou still feels weird admitting his feelings so he pulls Kirishima closer and whispers

“I like Denki back.”

Kirishima’s brain stops working, he pulls away and mumbles out

“ But you’re mean to him, actually you’re a dick to him!”

Kirishima can't deal, this one detail ruins his plans. he starts to feel a break down coming so he sits down on Bakugou's bed

“I was just protecting myself, and I guess I show my affection that way.” Kirishima looked for every excuse he could to make this not true

“ But your’re mean to me, you call me Shittyhair, that means you like me, not Denki!”

Kirishima had fooled himself with his own hypothesis, getting excited that Bakugou doesn’t like Denki

“ No I like Denki, you just have Shitty hair. I’ve got to go tell Denki, you did a good job, your one manly wingman.”

Bakugou rushed out of the room and to Denki’s room. Leaving Kirishima in his room, Kirishima breaks down, his perfect plan comes crashing down, he would never be with Denki and he wonders why. He imagines himself running to Denki, pushing Bakugou out of the way, grabbing Denki and yelling, begging for an answer.

“Why him? Why not me? Was I too nice? Do you want to be treated like trash? cause I can do that. Was I not manly enough? my quirk to basic for you isn’t it? Is it my hair, the color, the shape, do you agree with Bakugou, do I have shittyhair? Is it my fashion sense? What made you fall for Katsuki Bakugou the guy who calls you stupid every sentence he can? Why couldn’t he be the wingman, and I be the boy you pinned for, I’m tired of just being the wingman!"

But he didn’t move an inch. He sat in Bakugou room hoping that something would go wrong. It seemed impossible, an hour later and no return, just Kirishima hyperventilating in his crush’s probably boyfriend’s room. Another hour and a text, it was a video, from Denki. He talks in a hushed voice.

" Thanks, bro, I know I said it earlier but this time it was because you actually got me a man, you're the best wingman a guy could ask for. My new boyfriend and I are going to cuddle and wat--"

In the back, Kirishima hears Bakugou yell for Denki.

" Get over here lightning bolt."

Denki moves and soon both blondes are in the frame

" Don't you think the lightning bolt is too long for a cutesy nickname?"

"Tsk Maybe for you."

Bakugou leaned in and kissed Denki, it was short, sweet, a peck of sorts.

" Now put the phone down"

Bakugou hand grows closer and then the video ends and Kirishima now knows that his prayers didn't work. He’s left wishing in Bakugou's room that he was the one cuddling with Denki, he wanted to come up with nicknames, oh and to feel Denki’s lips on his own was something he could only dream of. But he wasn’t Denki’s boyfriend, he was just a wingman, the wingman who set his crush up.

And at that moment he realized that even if he feels for someone else in the future, that no matter who or when his position in a love story was the wingman. He was doomed to be just a wingman.

All characters belong to Horikoshi and his series Boku No Hero Academia

#just a wingman #denki kaminari #bakukami #kamibaku #kamikiri #kirikami #eijiro kirishima #katsuki bakugo #unrequited crush #unrequited love #mitsuki bakugou #mha #my hero acadamy #bnha #boku no hero academia

16 notes · View notes

insertsexualitypun · 4 years

Text

Some things I want from Legacies S3

This is going to be all over the place and pretty long. This’ll start with the general storyline things, then get down into smaller character arcs and whatnot. I’ll try to keep it somewhat organized and grouped by character but I make no promises. Also if you wanna talk about any of these feel free to dm! I’m incredibly bored in quarantine and would love to chat

- An introduction of a greater storyline past Malivore and moving away from the monster of the week thing. I know Legacies is supposed to be something different from TVD and TO, and the monster of the week concept is an interesting way to explore the universe past what we already knew, but with the premise as it exists and has been carried out now, it’s hard to develop the characters and relationships. If the characters are fighting new things every week, that makes it hard to give characters like MG and Kaleb their own stories. With a villain to anchor the season as the Big Bad, we can get characters that haven’t been given much of their own storyline a way to get more screentime as they go try and find someone or something with answers.

- GIVE HOPE HER OWN STORYLINE PAST BEING THE HERO/MARTYR AND BEING IN LOVE WITH LANDON. Hope is supposed to be the main character but this doesn’t feel like her story. As awesome as it is seeing Hope be a badass and fight monsters, I want more development from her as a person.

- Kind of ties back into the last one, but let Hope have more Dark moments like the Death Spell incident. Moments that show that while she isn’t just another Klaus, she still shares some of his tendencies towards violence and lashing out. This could work really well if they decide to keep Landon out of the picture for a few episodes.

- Let Hope and Landon break up amicably (assuming Landon isn’t really dead which let’s be real he probably isn’t) so that, again, they can grow as people. Then, if you want, they can get back together. Or just stay broken up and be friends

- A resolution to the Necromancer - he’s a fun character and while I think he’d be fun to have around for a bit, I don’t think he’s an anchoring villain for a season. Plus to me I kinda figured that they were gonna wrap up his storyline in the last 3 episodes that they didn’t get to film before the production shutdown so chances are we’re getting this anyway.

- Either bring back Ethan, Maya and Mac more prominently, or don’t bring them back at all. Don’t get me wrong, I like the town normies storyline when it comes up, but it doesn’t come up much. Apparently, they were supposed to be in the last 3 episodes more but who knows. With the show already feeling kinda crowded (because again, the format of the show now doesn’t really allow for a ton of characters since they aren’t significantly developing, especially when these characters are in a setting completely removed from the main action of the show’s narrative), either have the normies for more than just getting caught in a magical crossfire, or put them to the side and focus on who you have at the school.

- The TVDU has progressed past the need for Alaric. That’s all I’ll say.

- The show being a little more self aware at the ridiculousness of it all. Like yeah, it’s not completely without that, but the last thing we need is the show devolving into a Riverdale, where the first season was aware of the ridiculous nature of itself, and then it started to take itself way too seriously.

- MORE LGBTQ+ REP. The show has done fairly well thus far compared to other CW shows but there’s still so much than can be done. The show doesn’t need to have show-stopping coming out storylines or anything - it’s actually the opposite. We get the casual drop of Josie having dated Penelope in the first episode of the show which was great. So let’s have more simple stuff like that. More mentions at crushes and other past romances - for all characters - that just allow for other sexualities to be normalized and not some earth shattering thing.

- This ties into the last one but I felt like it deserved its own bullet, but also what is V NEEDED is rep of trans, genderfluid and non-binary characters. Again, it doesn’t have to be a huge storyline, but it’d be nice to have some recurring characters who are not cis. The show is meant to be set in a near future, so I think it’d be nice to show a normalized view on differing gender expression and sexuality as sort of a hope that such a future will exist.

- Hope loving beignets, eating/wanting to eat them all the time, and getting powdered sugar all over her dark clothes from them. Chances are, if you’re from/have been to NOLA, you’ve tried beignets and loved them because they’re amazing. SO LET HOPE HAVE HER BEIGNETS DAMN IT.

- More Wolf Hope moments. Let her turn more and just run because it let’s her feel more connected to Hayley :’( also the Crescent birth mark if that was ever a thing for Hope... I can’t remember, I’ve seen different things about it, lmk (politely) if that was ever a thing that Hope had

- Hope painting and sketching. It’s one of the few connections she still has with Klaus, SO LET HER EXPRESS HERSELF DAMN IT. (Yes, any time I say SO in all caps I need to end the sentence with DAMN IT, it’s a Thing now)

- MIKAELSON FAMILY MENTIONS AND APPEARANCES. Granted this one is different because there are real life schedules and whatnot that need to align, but even just more mentions of Mikaelson family members and others like Vincent would be nice. Yeah we’ve had some in the past, but it would still be nice to get some more. Also at least a mention of Rebekah and Kol checking in on Hope (assuming the writers aren’t going to pull something dumb like ‘oh the memory spell doesn’t work long distance like that so they still don’t remember her’)

- Hope also talking more about Hayley, Elijah, and Klaus. Again, feeling connected to her mom every time she’s a wolf. Always and forever, like Elijah always said. Telling stories about her father that put him in a better light than just being “The Great Evil” of storybooks.

- Hope being open with her friends about her past and how TERRIBLE it was a lot of the time like, y’know, people trying to kill her before she was even BORN.

- I’ve said this before in a separate post (which I’ll link at some point so expect an edit to this post) but I’d love for something to happen and for Hope to leave the school and go to NOLA and stay with Freya, Keelin and Nik because she’s tired of having to be the savior and still not saving everyone. (Also in that post it says Alaric comes and gets her and brings her back to the Salvatore School but we’ve progressed past the need for him in the TVDU so instead it’ll be the twins)

- Hizzie moments because whether you like them as romantically or just as friends, they are a DUO and we deserve more iconic sarcasm as well as genuine moments of friendship and caring

- Lizzie being the absolute Queen of Comedy

- But more importantly, Lizzie being more open about her issues and taking steps to have better mental health.

- Lizzie and MG having more open conversations and letting a relationship develop naturally - yes there has been a lot of development since season 1 but I feel like they both have a bit of growth to go before they should enter a relationship, if that’s something that happens

- Lizzie being happily single for a bit and not going for a guy that’s going to try and turn her into a vamp and keep her in a prison world

- MG and Kaleb getting proper storylines or at least more play than just being the Local Vampires who help depending on the situation. They deserve WAY more than that

- ALSO MG and Kaleb backstories. How did they die and how did they get vampire blood in their system to keep them from dying permanently?

- Josie dealing with what happened pre and post Dark Josie and facing that she has always had some darkness in her. Yeah the dark magic definitely didn’t help, but she was willing to perform a spell that she didn’t know on a human over a football game and ended up breaking his arm. Not to mention, she was setting Penelope on fire as early as the first episode. It seems like we’re getting this since Josie locked away her magic in the last episode, but still, I don’t want this to just be a one episode reflection and then move on like she didn’t cause a lot of harm.

- More Hosie crumbs

- More Jade. OK admittedly this is probably really due to the fact that Giorgia Whigham is a Big Crush for me, but also the show really did start integrating her in a bit more with the black and white episode, which makes me think they’re keeping her around at least for a little bit. And I think she and Josie dating at least for a little while would be good for both of them. Jade was a ripper for 10 years in the prison world, and Josie was just consumed by dark magic and is now coming back from that. I think they’re a good (probably short-term) pairing that will help each other grow, but eventually break up because they just aren’t it for each other. And I saw this elsewhere on here, but someone pointed out that Jade could do what Penelope tried to do, but in a healthier way. Yes, Penelope was trying to put Josie first and show her her power and importance, but there’s a way to do that without gaslighting her sister and being manipulative. Sorry, I did not mean for this one to be so long.

- More Specialty episodes. The black and white episode was really fun in my opinion, and the show doesn’t have to be like that all the time, but stuff like that keeps the show interesting, as long as it makes sense within the context of the episode and storyline.

- Josie wearing the necklace Hope gave her

- I haven’t mentioned Rafael much and that’s because, despite being a main character, he hasn’t really done much besides run away with Landon, and feel guilty about having a crush on Hope. He’s personally not a favorite character of mine, but I think if he got more of a storyline - likely revolving around the fact that he was dead and being used as a pawn, as well as the fact that he possibly (but probably didn’t) kill Landon - it’d help give more to like about him.

- Caroline having a better reason for being away from the school than just researching the Merge. Like, her daughters have been fighting monsters, Josie almost died at the end of season 1, they were trapped in a prison world, Josie succumbed to Dark Magic, THEY LITERALLY HAD A MERGE EVENT and she’s still gone??? That’s not the Caroline we know. If she’s going to be gone (because like I said before, it all depends on Candice’s availability and willingness to come back), at least come up with something different than researching something her daughters have already done by this point.

- Since Landon’s not dead, let him unlock his full Phoenix powers. It’d be cool.

- Let’s have one season where Landon doesn’t run away like we don’t all know that he’s gonna be back within like 2 episodes if that

- More Dorian. I actually really like his character, he’s kind of a breath of fresh air sometimes so I’d like more scenes with him when possible

- A conclusion to Malivore and intro of a new villain. I kinda covered this earlier, but at this point, unless Malivore is going to become a tangible entity to fight instead of some black goo, it’s not a very interesting story thread to keep around for the next however many seasons Legacies goes on for.

Whew.

Ok, that’s all I can think of, but feel free to reblog and add more if there’s other stuff you’d like to see!

105 notes · View notes

lesserfandomappreciation · 4 years

Text

S/o fights for their honor (RSat7D)

All

They have spent an entire year as not human. By what movie canon says, only those in the F7 and eventually Snow White have ever treated them as people during that time frame given their reluctance to live anywhere near a town. Being in a relationship barely shakes off the feeling that they don’t deserve to be in a relationship, but they do their best to grapple with the fact that they are loved and that s/o isn’t going to suddenly drop kick them like others have.

Why am I bothering to write this? Because this dear reader brings us to the very important point of literally none of them, not a single one of them being remotely prepared to deal with the love, the pure caring of their s/o kicking ass on their behalf.

Jack

Fisticuffs or electrocutions are not Jack’s style - verbally cutting someone down is child’s play. Out-maneuver them to make the opponent look terrible if it comes down to confrontation but he’s got his methods to dealing with the improper and foul. By the time he spots the offender coming his way, spewing impolite insults, he’s already made several sentences that will reduce them to smithereens in moments.

“Such insults are beneath my dear, so why don’t you see if you can get past me first.”

...Sorry, what?

He’s breathless watching them. S/o dueling them for the sake of his honor was not something Jack thought he needed to see but this is causing some serious swooning on his part. The romance? The peak chivalry of a valiant person protecting their beloved’s honor? Jack’s near-fainting.

By the time the offender runs off s/o feels a pair of hands on their free hand and turn just in time to see Jack press a kiss into it.

“You have your prince’s gratitude my dear knight.”

Merlin

Merlin has the illusion of self-confidence down pat, but throw a single jab at him and his response betrays how affects he is by it. He’s not as self-assured as Jack is, struggling to really like himself sometimes. When some jackass comes up to him clearly looking to cause trouble Merlin gets spells ready and is just about to deal with the jackass when the insults start. Emotional attacks are too efficient against him.

It takes him a moment to register the fist lodged in his opponent’s face.

“How dare you be so- so- rude! You wanna fight so bad, I’ll beat your head in free of charge!”

Stunned. Shocked. In awe Merlin can only stand there agog watching s/o defend him from this stranger with little hesitation. They just jumped in to help him. For no reason. Just because they could. The sound of the jackass surrendering and running away at top speeds jolts Merlin back into reality, into focusing on s/o’s now very tired/bruised hands.

“I- You didn’t have to do that.” It sounds almost like scolding, but s/o can tell by his furrowed brows as he tried to heal the bruises on their hands that he’s grateful. Give him time, he’s new to this whole “people caring about him” thing.

Noki

Extroverts, cheery ones especially, have an unfair reputation of being able to brush off just about anything. Noki himself is viewed in such a way even by the F7. Someone using charm, wit and a joke to disarm a situation doesn’t mean that they don’t internalize the original insult though. All it means is that Noki is very, very bad of not internalizing stuff and brushing off situations (unless there is legitimate danger) despite it being detrimental to himself.

“Hold up - what the hell makes you think that’s okay?!”

An s/o who stands up to some bully in the middle of the street is a very refreshing change for Noki. Out of everyone he would benefit the most of having an s/o confident enough to stand up to others and make it clear that this behavior is not okay. He’s spellbound watching them cut the bully down to size before running off with their tail between their legs.

“Thank you bella.” S/o would have little time to register the thanks before they’re in a tight hug, Noki smiling with the brightness of 20 suns.

#rsat7d #rsat7d imagine #noki #Jack #merlin #imagine

29 notes · View notes

restingdomface · 5 years

Text

Okay I can’t believe I’m going there, but, Lan Wangji’s magical healing cock and also mpreg AU:

Okay. So. Instead of Jin Zixuan being a dick to his crush, he genuinly never had a crush on her at all, and in fact, it never came to light until the Sunshit Campaign started, but JZX had a crush on Jiang Cheng all along. Jiang Cheng, who, reluctantly, returns his affections. Wei Wuxian is disgusted. His brother has terrible taste in men wtf.

So. Things went differently this time. What’s the change here? Meng Yao never left Nie Mingjue’s side. Of course, he did the spying thing, but he never betrayed him (this could be a part of my idea where NMJ and MY plan to actually have him be a spy and send him off after a planned execution of a soldier that NMJ decided needed a death sentence more than banishment, or, an AU where MY presented the idea to Wen Rouhan that his coming to WRH’s side was the betrayel itself). Now how does this change things? Because I honestly and truly think that if MY didn’t go to Jin Guangshan’s side afterwards, JGS wouldn’t have had the sway to execute anyone else in the Wen Family, or do anything horrible like that.

TBH he tries to wipe out the rest of the Wens, but it goes so badly and this time MY isn’t on his side (lol you know JGS would have tried tho, imagine how humiliating it would have been to be publicly denied by your own bastard son at the banquet after wow) and so JGS ends up removed from power entirely and JZX gets made sect leader instead.

This means, that since JZX is about to marry JC, they’re going to have to move to LanlingJin instead of both of them arguing over if they’d move to Lotus Pier or not. Cause they would argue over that. This means that Jiang Cheng is going to be the next Young Master Jin and Jiang Yanli is now officially the Jiang Sect Leader. Nice.

So. We’re rid of JGS and everyone’s happy and MY probably isn’t gonna kill anyone cause now he can marry NMJ in peace and not have to deal with anyone else, where does LWJ’s magic healing dick come in? Hold on I’m getting to it. Impatient.

So. The Wens. Of course, before JGS was removed from power, Wei Wuxian was actually running around saving Wen survivors and gathering them in the Burial Mounds, so he actually has to be coaxed into leaving by his siblings and LWJ and even JZX and NMJ (who thinks this is rather like that one time he had to coax Nie Huaisang out from under his bed when he became convinced NMJ’s cat was a demon because it wouldn’t stop attacking his songbird and he couldn’t come out cause she was in the room and she would steal his soul but she’s just sitting on the windowsill and meowing at them and NMJ is just silently planning to feed her more and keep her away from the atrium and tbh plz NHS you’re 16 years old you’re too old for this plz stop crying) and it’s great. It’s just great.

Anyways. WWX is paranoid af. Like so fucking paranoid. Cause they have been attacked. He’s got 12 year old girls talking about what the adult men in the Jin sect did to them. He’s got a traumatized toddler on his hip that screams when he sees Jin robes. He’s got children with branded scarring on their faces and wounds you can’t even imagine to come from anything but torture. He’s paranoid. He’s trying to keep the kiddos safe. They’re healers, and he’s given them the tools to heal, but they’re scared, and he’s paranoid without his Golden Core, and he’s scared, and he’s not putting down the toddler plz stop asking, he’s keeping this one, shut up.

So. What can he do but make a few demands? The Lan sect may have strict rules, but they would never attack innocent civilians, and they have rules about killing even animals in Gusu. He asks them to send all the Lan guards they can to escort them to GusuLan. He doesn’t think they’d hurt them in YunmengJiang either, but he can’t risk it. He was there when Lotus Pier burned. Cloud Recesses didn’t lose nearly as many people, and he’s still too traumatized to spend much time in LP rn.

So they go to Cloud Recesses. This actually, also gives the other sects a lot of time to get some glimpses at everyone that came from the Burial Mounds.

Not a single one of them was a cultivator.

This is a little different than canon. WWX can’t handle the loss of his golden core in this one. Not to say that he shouldn’t have done it, but that the resentful energy is dragging him down to the point where all he can feel is paranoia and fear. He’s almost completely unresponsive at this point. He follows after LWJ when told to, and he holds little A-Yuan in his arms, but he doesn’t pay much attention to anyone.

Wen Qing tells them of the loss of his core, but not how it happened. Lan Qiren doesn’t much like WWX still, but he accepts that a cornered animal will bite, and WWX lost his main weapon right before a major war. Of course he would do all he could to keep himself safe.

Jiang Yanli offers for the Wen Survivors to be integrated into YunmengJiang, since they lost so many people. It could help a lot. They accept, since she’s offering them protection and help.

Of course, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli used to Spend A Lot Of Time Together in Cloud Recesses, so love is blooming there between the two sect leaders, and by the end of a year, they’re getting married themselves.

WWX doesn’t go back to LP with them. He couldn’t do it. A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning stay with him in Cloud Recesses. Granny talks with Wen Qing regularly, and A-Yuan is attached to Lan Wangji enough that Lan Xichen starts mentioning that he could attend classes there when he’s old enough. LXC is a WangXian shipper and is trying to get his brother to adopt the child. Y’all know he would. WWX spends his time arguing (loudly, but in a room with magical wards for sound so they don’t get in trouble) with a Lan mind healer that talks through his bullshit with him, sleeping the day away in one of the rooms of the Jingshi (because LWJ made him move in right away and WWX couldn’t even argue cause A-Yuan loves him too and he can ask LWJ to play Their Song whenever he wants to hear it) and following after A-Yuan as he enchants (and terrifies) all the rabbits in the field. Also getting yelled at (softly) by LQR for breaking rules. LQR and LWJ have been making it their personal mission to find a way to either purify the resentful energy so WWX can go back to his normal cheerful self that doesn’t jump or hide when startled, or to regain a Golden core so the yin and yang energies can balance each other and keep him stable.

Of course, JYL sends him a message that she’s getting married, and WWX pulls himself out of the fog enough that he can ask them to go to the wedding (he’s being polite, he’s going no matter what they say lol,) and LWJ accompanies him to the wedding. His siblings are so happy to see him there.

Anyways. Things get rocky when WWX hears them talking about kids.

Jiang Yanli will carry Jin Zixuan’s children, and they’ll keep the Jin name. They’ll know that all four of them are their parents, but it’s a way to pass on the name.

Wen Qing will carry Jiang Cheng’s children, and they’ll carry the Jiang name. This also helps to keep track of what kids are heir to what sect.

Of course, Wei Wuxian, the master of ‘I know The Most Obscure Bullshit Ever’, asks why they don’t just have their spouses children. There are spells and potions for that.

Well. No one else in the room knew that but him apparently. Well, they’re still going to go with their idea for the first few kids, and then they’ll decide if other means of pregnancy options are viable.

Anyways. Guess who else didn’t know it was possible for men to get pregnant? You guessed it. Lan Wangji. Who was also in the room at the time.

So. Wedding is lovely. They all have an amazing time. WWX is able to pull himself out of bed every day. He was even able to work on some cultivation items that LQR begrudgingly admits are amazing items and very useful to cultivation.

They go back to Cloud Recesses, and Lan Wangji combs through his and his uncle’s notes till he finds a viable solution to a return of a Golden core that they had originally scrapped because WWX wasn’t a girl.

To return a Golden core to a body by means of very careful pregnancy. Of course, such a thing would be considered stealing under normal circumstances, and most mothers would rather die than harm their child in the womb in a way that could kill them. But this was a method made to keep both parent and child from harm. A way to build the slightest lump of core in the parent, enough to stick and allow a base to build off of later.

Of course, without consulting Uncle (because the man would be horrified at the idea, and LWJ would rather be rejected by the man himself thanks very much) he takes the proposal to the man in question.

WWXA has to think about this one for a long time. He thinks about it while helping Wen Ning with zombie stuff so he can maintain a stable body. He thinks about it while writing letters to his siblings. He thinks a LOT about it while tucking their two year old into bed and reading him a story with the funny voices. He thinks about it when he spends a night in the cold springs with LWJ one night, close enough to touch the man, because without a Golden core, the water is too cold for him to survive in on his own.

He asks why LWJ would besmirch his honor like that. Having a child out of wedlock, his uncle would throw a fit. His name would be in tatters.

LWJ blinks, once, and twice. He quietly tells him the offer could involve marriage if WWX thinks it’s of import.

So. They get married. So they can have a child. Another child. Just. Yeah. Let’s get married so we can mate like rabbits.

They’re in love. Of course they are. But they’re also shy idiots. LWJ is a sex fiend like usual, and WWX quickly gets addicted to it, but they’re both too shy to say anything sappy yet. Well. No. Scratch that. LWJ is fully willing to admit his love to the world. But he’s a very quiet person. So he mostly just tells WWX how much he would do anything for him, and even eats his horrible poison cooking. Not even A-Yuan will touch that shit.

A-Yuan is so excited to be a big brother. His favorite place to lay is curled around WWX’s big belly and giving it kisses while A-Die scratches his hair and reads him stories.

A-Yuan finally gets his baby and Wei Wuxian gets the stability that a Golden core provides so he can continue using resentful energy to dodge the many many scrolls Shifu Qiren will throw at him over the years to come. LQR swears that if that man hadn’t given his nephew happiness and also many great nephews-

Anyways. The Lotus Flowers are all gay and all happy send tweet.

#jiang cheng #jiang yanli #a yuan #mdzs #the untamed #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #jin zixuan #meng yao #nieyao #wen qing #jc totally carries at least one of jzxs babies #idk why the whole fandom thinks jzx could never top #let jc be a pushy bottom plz #all the lotus flowers are pillow princesses in this one lol #jc and wwx get pregnant at the same time at one point and theyre both horrible about it #wangxian #chengxuan #mpreg

207 notes · View notes

witchesofmysticfalls · 4 years

Text

As I Lay Dying - 3

"Ariel Hey." Jeremy greeted when he answered.

"Tell me you're with Elena." I say as I lean against the wall of the cellar, the deputies came and went, leaving me locked in the cell and Alaric locked out on the other side so until he manages to get his door opened I'm stuck here.

"She went to go see Damon. I thought that's where you were?"

"No, he just escaped. I think he's looking for her, and the cops are after him. Listen, he's in bad shape, Jeremy, so if you find her, get her somewhere safe, okay? Alaric and I are on our way"

As soon as he gets the damn door open

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I scrambled to pick up my phone as Alaric raced the car down the street, we managed to get out and we're headed to the town square to start our search for Damon.

"Hey it's me" Jeremy says. "Did you find him?" I ask.

"I'm with Damon at the grill"

"Okay, we're on our-" My sentence is cut off by a gunshot.

"Jeremy?" I questioned Jeremy.

"What was that? Is Damon alright? Jeremy!" I cut the call and look at Alaric

"Step on it"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alaric and I ran into the grill and looked over to see Bonnie, Caroline and her mom crouched over someone, crying

"Bonnie what's going on?" Alaric asked as we rushed to them.

"Oh my god!" I clamped a hand to my mouth as I felt my stomach sink down to the ground as I saw Jeremys lifeless body on the ground.

"Jeremy!" I dropped down to his side and Caroline promptly backed away to give me space.

"No!" I screamed as I put my fingers to his neck to find a pulse.

"I-I can't feel a pulse! Why can't I feel a pulse!" I exclaimed as I held his hand. I grabbed either side of his face and begged him to wake up.

"Jeremy! Jeremy please! Please wake up!" I had tears down my face and they were coming down fast.

I fell back losing balance but Caroline caught me. "No...he can't be...." I said in between sobs. I just lost Jenna and John, I can't lose Jeremy too. I remember when I was a kid, when Elena and I would hang out at her house, how we included Jeremy when he was little so he wouldn't feel left out.

I remember how mesmerized he was by my drawings, even if they were terrible.

I remember his first drawing, a car. I might have found out only a while ago Jeremy was my cousin, but I've known him for as long as I've known Elena and Bonnie and Caroline.

He was always a brother to me, and just when I found out we were family he was taken from me.

Is it a curse? Is that why the people I love die?

That's ridiculous but in my state I can't cope right now.

Bonnie raised her head in determination "I know what I need to do."

"I need you to grab him. T-take him with us." She said as she looked over at Alaric.

"No, no, no, no. You can't move him. This is a crime scene." Sheriff Forbes said with tears in her eyes.

"Mom, you let them go." Caroline orders,

We all stand and let Alaric pick him up. "All right, come here, buddy. I got you. I got you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonnie made us go all the way to the old witches house to do a resurrection spell that will bring Jeremy back, I'm trying to remain positive but it's hard.

"Is this even possible?" I asked as Alaric put down Jeremy's limp body on the ground.

"There's a spell for it if they'll give me the power to use it." Bonnie explained as she put Jeremy's head in her lap and grabbed either side of his face, and closed her eyes.

''Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus" Bonnie chants and at the same time, all of the light candles grow brighter with every chant.

"No." Bonnie whispers opening her tear ridden eyes

"What? What is it?" I question wearily.

"They're angry at me for coming back here. They don't wanna help."

"Well, they have to!" Alaric snapped.

"They said there'll be consequences."

"Well, he's just a kid. Tell 'em to shut up!" Alaric snapped.

Bonnie continues to cast the spell and The building shakes. I look around with wide eyes as Her nose starts to bleed and she starts crying.

"Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Revertas Phasmatis Ut Victus. Victus Phasmatis Ex Eleto. Revertas..."

"Emily. Emily!" Bonnie called out looking up. "I know you're there. Please help me" She begs and pleads. "I love him."

There's a huge gust of wind and the candles die out enveloping the room in darkness.

"No!" Bonnie cries. I hug Alaric, crying into him. He's dead. He's really dead and he's not coming back.

Out of nowhere Bonnie gasps loudly and Alaric shifts so I whirl around and gasped when I saw Jeremy had his eyes open "Oh my god."

"Bonnie?" Jeremy questions at her crying figure

"Oh, my God, Jeremy. Oh, my God."

"What happened?" Jeremy groaned in pain.

Bonnie shook her head softly "Doesn't matter. You're okay. You're okay." She said as she stroked his hair.

Bonnie smiled and raised her head "Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat on the porch swing while Alaric and Jeremy were inside with a blanket over me.

"Hey, you alright?" Asked Alaric as he poked his head through the door.

I nod unconvincingly "Yeah...I'm fine"

He sighed and sat down next to me "You know, you don't have to lie. Not to me"

"I don't know. It's just, everyone I love dies. My mom, Zach, Vicki, Jenna, John, even John. Jeremy was dead, and Damon's dying..." That last bit made me break into tears

"I just can't take it anymore" He sighed and wrapped an arm around me.

"Do you think I'm cursed?" I asked, staring ahead as I trace the pattern on my locket.

Alaric shook his head "No. You're not cursed. That's just the way life is. It might seem helpless now, but it's only making you stronger"

I sighed "You're just being nice" I mutter not believing him.

"I'm not, you know you are one of the finest pupils I've ever trained"

"The only one you've ever trained"

We both laughed lightly

"Yeah well, Ariel you've grown into this amazing strong woman who's turning 18 in how many days?"

"21, legally anyway"

"Right legally. My point is, keep fighting, no matter how much it hurts"

I smiled at him "Thanks Rick"

He smiled back "Any time my non-biological daughter"

I smiled a little "non-biological daughter?"

"Yes, because that's what you are to me" I laughed a little hiding a smile with my hand "There's the laugh"

"Thanks non-biological father"

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

Alaric went back inside to speak to Jeremy and I stayed out here, he told me was going to be staying and that was fine by me. I stayed outside, drawing, I was drawing, drawing Jenna and John in my definition of heaven. The greatest memories of your life on re-run.

Someone rapped their knuckles against the beam of the porch and I looked up and saw Stefan standing there.

"Stefan!" I exclaimed throwing, the blanket off me and throwing my arms around him.

"Oh thank god I was so worried"

He pulled away from me and gave me this sorrowful look.

"Why do you have that look on your face? That's your 'I'm about to give bad news face" I almost back away in shock,

"Damon didn't die did he?"

"No, he didn't" I breathed a sigh of relief, putting a hand on my chest. "Thank god"

"Ariel I'm leaving"

The sentence made my eyes widen "What? What do you mean you're leaving?"

"Klaus gave Damon his blood, the cure, but only if I went with him," Stefan explained.

"You didn't...wait-wait then why are you here?"

"Just to say goodbye, take care of yourself, for once"

I shook my head at him, "No! This can't be goodbye! You can't leave! What-what about Elena and- and Damon and Caroline and-and me!"

"You-you can't just leave!" I yelled at him, breaking into tears.

"I have to. I made a deal"

"Screw Klaus! I'll kill him myself if I have to even if it kills me! I'm not letting you leave with him!" I yelled at him, I turn to go inside the house but he uses his speed to block my path

"No-I'm not!" I tried getting past him but he stopped me from doing so.

"Let me go Stefan! I'll negotiate with him, I-I don't know my life for yours"

"Ariel you are not doing that!"

"I don't give a damn" I'm cut off when he brought his lips to mine. And for that split second, it was like if I didn't have a care in the world, it's like if time froze and we were standing still.

It felt...right- it felt....oldy right, and I didn't want it to feel right. I kissed him back despite my efforts to pull back and do something, but it was as if I was just frozen and couldn't move.

He finally pulled away and looked me in the eye with a look

"Why'd you do that?"

"So you could be quiet" He smiled painfully and kissed my forehead one last time before using his speed to leave.

I dropped and sank on my knees, He's gone.

Oh my god, what have we done?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well that's it. Have fun, Season 3 will come in March, kay kay!

Love you all!

Mwah!

10 notes · View notes