#he wants to get his ears pierced but my father is losing his mind over it

[newt-and-salamander]

Thinking about that boy I knew from university who started flirting with me at some point. He kept telling me my hair looked great. (I had rather shortish hair at that point, about chin-lenght.)

After a few weeks he asked me out and I declined. It wasn't that awkward and we stayed casual friends (he was part of my friend group as well). But some time later he started to tell me that I should let my hair grow because it would look better.

I honestly can't remember my reaction (I don't think it was very quick-witted). But every once in a while I think of him and honestly don't know whether I want to laugh or shout because The Audacity.

I cut my hair even shorter two weeks ago and ever since then I notice men who really aren't entitled to any opinion (like my boss or a friend's father) comment on my hair style in "neutral" ways like "Oh, your hair is short" or "it certainly looks practical" or "now that's a change" and it just baffles me because ... its ... MY????? hair. And it isn't that much of a change, it was rather short before (and it's not that short now!). I'm just a person who fills in Excel sheets for you or goes for a walk with your daughter, why do you think you need to "politely" express your discontent with my looks??

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Six

— Little Big Gifts

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.9k

You watched as Isabella tugged Max into yet another store with a tight grip on his hand. At this point, you were losing track of how many stores you've been in and out of.

Falling behind a few steps, you took that moment to notice how Max and Isabella could've easily resembled a father-daughter duo to the strangers around you.

Pushing that thought away when Max looked for you, he smiled and held out his other hand—that was still holding a few shopping bags—as a gesture for you to come closer.

"How much money are you planning to spend on her?" You asked, looking at the increasing shopping bags in both yours and his hands, everything bought so far was for Isabella.

You had to physically stop yourself from grasping his bicep, cursing internally when you remembered that it wouldn't be the right thing to do. But you desperately wanted it to be a normal habit.

The first—and last—time you tried to pay was when you were checking out at the register in the first store of the day. Max lightly shoved you aside and tapped his card before you could notice what happened.

The cashier noticed and even commented, "let him pay for it, darling," with a cheeky wink directed at you.

Max looked at you, almost offended at the question you asked. "Until my account is empty," he stated with a shrug and a growing smile on his face when you shook your head. This would've been the perfect time to lean against him and smile at him, but once again you didn't.

"It would take a long time before that happens," you responded and he gave you a knowing look, "that's the point."

Isabella was roaming around the aisles with you and Max following behind. Every time she liked something, she would pick it up and look at you two with the cutest smile on her face while muttering the word, "please."

It reminded you of the day you first met Max through Isabella, since she was doing the same trick as today.

The only difference was that every time that happened, Max looked at you for permission as well and it felt like you were facing two versions of Isabella.

"Mama!" Isabella exclaimed when she laid her eyes on the prize, which happens to be hair accessories.

Little clips with bows, glittery ones, some even had flowers, and she loved it all.

"Pick out the ones you really, really like, Bella." If you didn't limit the items, Isabella would pick one too many. You stood beside her, holding each item that she handed to you.

There were lots of options, but your little girl was picky and this was one of the few times you were grateful for it. She picked out a total of six items, "because I'm six, mama," was her reasoning behind it.

You chuckled, "you can pick out seven things when you turn seven then, okay?" She nodded, and began counting how many months were left until her birthday.

Max watched the whole interaction with soft smile on his face, wondering how he had such amazing luck that he was able to befriend the sweetest mother-daughter duo.

Then, Isabella spotted earrings and asked if she could buy those too. "Your ears aren't pierced, angel." She frowned, "why not?"

“Do you want to get your ears pierced?" You asked, knowing it was a question you'd have to ask one day and it seemed like a good time right now.

"Yes please," Isabella nodded, and looked at both you and Max in anticipation. This time, you looked at Max for reassurance, wanting to know his opinion as well. Though you had no idea why his opinion mattered so much to you.

"It's going to hurt," Max commented or more so stated directed at Isabella, wanting her to know the process behind it. "I am a big girl!" She responded with enthusiasm, and by the tone of her voice, you knew that she had already set her mind on it.

"Okay, big girl, let's get you some piercings after we buy all this," you stated and she smiled brightly, holding onto your hand as you neared the cash register.

As Max reached for his wallet, you placed your hand over his to stop him, and he looked at you with a questioning gaze. "Max, you already did too much," you whispered, ensuring that your daughter doesn't hear you.

"What if I want to do more?" He countered, and you sighed. Then he added, "plus I promised Bella that I would buy her the clips she wanted, and she also asked for ice cream."

You knew he wasn't going to budge, so you let him pay but you needed to have a conversation with him about it.

You weren't used to this sort of treatment, and even after Max reassured you that it was truly his choice to pay, you felt bad.

As you walked out the shop holding Isabella's hand, who was beaming because of the new purchases, you looked at Max, "are you going to let me pay for the piercings?"

He debated it, knowing that if he kept paying, you might never take him along for shopping again. "If you insist," he shrugged and you smiled, quickly placing a kiss to his cheek in appreciation.

While you and Isabella continued walking, Max faltered and stopped midstep. He brushed his fingers against his cheek that you kissed with a small smile growing on his face. Then, he continued walking before you were able to notice that he stopped.

Isabella's nervousness almost matched her excitement as she sat in the chair. The piercer was a kind lady who understood both Isabella's nervousness and excitement.

She explained the process as it was your daughter's first time getting pierced. "Are you sure you want to do this, angel?" You asked, watching her wiggle around in the chair.

Still, her nod was just as firm, "yes mama."

Once the piercer marked Isabella's ear so the placement was precise, she looked towards you and Max then back at Isabella.

"Why don't you hold on to your mama and daddy's hand, you'll forget the pain and we'll be done in no time."

Isabella grabbed onto your hand but then shook her head, "he's Maxy, not daddy," she clarified. Max took a slight step back after her words, the realization dawning on him that he might've gotten a little too comfortable too quickly.

"I'm going to hold onto mama and Maxy's hand," Isabella stated, holding out her hand towards Max with a wide smile on her face, as if she didn't realize the words she spoke just moments ago.

Technically, she wasn't wrong which was why you didn't correct her. But, the truth of the situation wasn't something you focused on until recently, especially after the words Tyler spoke yesterday.

"Can you count to three for me?" The piercer asked Isabella, deflating the tension.

Your focus was completely on your daughter, mainly because you didn't want to think of the possibilities about your future with Max just yet.

The piercer didn't wait until Isabella finished counting, instead surprising her by piercing her ear a second earlier.

Max rubbed her hand soothingly as he noticed her eyes beginning to water but she didn't let a single tear drop. Inhaling sharply, she commented, "that didn't hurt too bad."

"You're a brave girl. Now let's do the other side," the lady commented and Isabella's eyes widened at her words. "The other side?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her words, "yes, angel, she has to do your other ear unless you only want one earring?"

Isabella shook her head, and sat through the same process for her other ear.

"Good job!" The lady gave your daughter a high five, then she walked away to gather the items needed for post piercing care.

You kissed your daughter's cheek, carefully avoiding any accidental touches to her ear, "my brave girl."

The chair she was sitting on was higher up, so Isabella held her hands out towards Max. He took a step closer and easily wrapped his arm around her, helping her stand firmly on the ground. “You're going to be the coolest kid in first grade," he told her which made her eyes widen with excitement.

"Really?" Isabella asked. "Of course! You got a new bag, new clothes, and even new piercings. You are going to have so many friends."

After Isabella shared her fear of moving to first grade after kindergarten, you and Max tried your best to reassure her that it isn't as scary as she thinks it is.

You went up to the cash counter to pay and the lady explained the steps that should be taken after a piercing for proper care.

Meanwhile, Max was holding Isabella's hand and whispering to each other but stopped once you returned. "Where to next?"

"Ice cream!" Your daughter cheered, and you couldn't say no to her even if you tried. After all, she did deserve ice cream since she put on such a brave face for her piercings.

After buying three different flavours of ice cream, one for each of you, it was time for a much needed break. You knew that Isabella was close to wanting a nap since you saw her eyes droop slightly once you sat down to enjoy some ice cream.

She leaned against you and wandered off into her own imaginative world. "I think we're done for the day," you turned your head towards Max as you spoke the words.

"You didn't get anything for yourself yet," Max commented and you shrugged, "I don't think I have the energy to shop for myself, plus you didn't buy anything for yourself either."

"And you're sure that you're not saying that because you don't want to spend my money?" He asked and you had a sheepish smile on your face that gave you away, “that too.”

Max tried to understand why you were so adamant on that topic. He didn't know why you were so hesitant to spend his money. He knew that if it were someone else, they wouldn't have hesitated. But then again, you aren't just someone else, you're you.

"Fine, mister rich, don't look at me like that. I'll empty out your pockets one day and then you'll realize what a mistake you made," you teased him, knowing that you would never do that. "But, I seriously don't have the energy to continue shopping."

"First, it won't be a mistake if I ask you to do it, and second, I'm here whenever you need me—or in this case, my card—just give me a call."

You were glad that Isabella was not listening to your conversation, because you wouldn't know how to explain it to her.

"You can't say things like that," you nearly whispered. "It's actually true, I'm free for the next ten days. During that, we're going shopping again."

You shook your head with a smile on your face, "I'll take you up on that offer then."

"Good." You leaned closer to him, without actually leaning on him. Even that little inch closer, brought a smile to both your faces but neither commented on it.

Then, when you looked at Isabella, she had almost finished her ice cream but you laughed when you noticed quite of a bit of it smeared around her mouth. "Oh, Bella." She giggled as she tried to wipe away as much as she could with her tongue before using the tissue that you passed her.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy @formulanni @ellouisa17

[ladyempty]

"Do you think you can just deny me? No, the answer is no"

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life.| ° | pairing: Yan!Maegor Targaryen, o cruel x Wife! Reader ° | !English is not my first language!|

You were certainly a cursed woman for arousing the almost immediate interest of the cruel king after his bloodthirsty ascension to the throne.

Maegor already had three wives at that time, two wives he liked and one he despised with increasing hatred.

But you were different, it was an overwhelming feeling that caught you off guard in the first contacts.

There was something fascinating to the king in his every little gesture and movement. Her so easily adorable personality and impeccable looks.

So this was love? This flame that burns without being seen? That feeling he despised when bards sang softly on banquettes and celebrations, and now it had taken over his body.

Already convinced of the strength of his feelings, the king did not delay in a proper court, he thought he had already made his obvious interest clear. The king's way of showing interest was something... Peculiar... Certainly constantly chasing you, ordering guards to follow you and always so fixedly analyzing your slightest movement, it wasn't the most gallant way.

In any case, the engagement was not long in consideration, with Maegor coldly threatening you father:

"I will have your hand beheaded or I will have your daughter's hand in marriage" His tone was as cold as the blade of his sword held firmly at his hip.

The wedding was only in Valerian traditions, the king's warm crimson blood mingling with his own and the taste of copper on his lips.

Maegor would never stoop to marrying in the faith of the seven. An action that only caused more chaos and anger from the religious.

The wedding night was certainly not a fairy tale. The king was focused on creating an heir and finally freely exploring his body. His touches were rough, strong and not at all gentle.

You better not consider moontea...

As a husband, Maegor is not the kindest. His displays of affection are not delicate and he does not demonstrate his love through words at all.

But compared to his treatment of other people, he is much softer on you.

He will still punish you if you disobey his numerous and strict rules.

Jealous and possessive are an understatement to describe feelings and behavior. You are His in every aspect of the word. Your body and soul belong to him and him alone. And not even his other wives have the right to take their You attention away from him. Your world should revolve around him the same way his world revolves around you.

Maegor is simply crazy about you, he loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else, even if it was in a distorted way, he doesn't want anyone to get close to you, touch you or even breathe and look in your direction. Anyone who approaches you will regret it bitterly when the blade of your sword pierces the person's neck without mercy.

He admired strength... But you couldn't get hurt, he liked your bravery, but there is no way he will allow you to get hurt. Never.

Maegor will not change your reason if you don't trust him. He will even think you are smart. For a while. After your patience runs out, he will simply demand your complete trust in him.

"I am your lord husband, who is more deserving of your trust than me?"

And things only got worse after Alys's deformed stillbirth...

Tyanna's whispers in her ear about infidelity and the child being nothing more than a bastard only served to increase her paranoia. The mere thought of you cheating on him was enough to make him simply lose his mind.

He imprisoned you in your private chambers, no one was allowed to enter unless authorized by the king. Guards guarded the door to his quarters.

Then, in an act of desperation, Maegor took three wives at once. But all three had deformed stillbirths just like Alys… Tyanna had lied and the king simply didn't know what else to do. He was desperate for the first time in his life.

But like a ray of light... Were you pregnant? For the first time in almost decades... Maegor smiled widely.

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Like a Hostage | Prologue

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

“They hate me, don’t they?” you sigh in defeat, hesitant to look back at your boyfriend whose fingers have gently intertwined with yours. Standing outside his childhood home you hoped for tonight to end differently, preferably with less undertones of passive judgement. 

“They hate everyone, so I wouldn’t give it much thought,” Jungkook assures with a sly grin, wrapping his arm over your shoulders as the two of you walk down to his car. 

“But they’re your parents, Koo. Don’t you want them to like me?” you turn to face his lowered gaze, hands on his chest as your back presses against the door frame. 

“Trust me, y/n. I’ve been fighting for their love my whole life. So, no. I don’t really care what they think.” he snickers before noticing the pout on your lips. 

“And anyways, isn’t my love enough for you?” whispers of his voice touch your skin as he leans closer, broad shoulders towering over your form. 

“You know it is. But, it would be less nerve-racking if we had their blessings as well,” your furrowed gaze looks up at Jungkook’s honey-brown eyes that softened at the sight of your flushed cheeks. 

“Just give them some time, sweetpea. Okay?” he places a soft kiss on your forehead before tucking a few curls behind your ear. 

“Mmhm,” 

“Now please get in, I'm starving,” 

“What? Are you serious? We just ate,” you laugh from disbelief, eyes glued on the boy as he sprints to his seat. 

“Y/n, baby, you're too nice. My mother can't cook to save her life. Everything you saw on that table was bought and reheated an hour ago,” Jungkook huffs impatiently, turning on the engine before glancing back at your puzzled expression. 

“It wasn't that bad. I'm sure she tried her best, Koo. You gotta be more grateful,” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, love. Now please buckle up,” he replied with a dimpled grin before finally driving off, his free hand intertwined with yours. 

To be honest, you never understood how someone could show disinterest in their parents. Growing up in foster care, you were deprived of every childhood memory. Reaching for your mother’s arms as you took your first steps, feeling the warmth of your father’s embrace as he comforted your tears after a boy broke your heart. None of that was ever real. Nothing more than a constant reminder of the void in your heart. The shattering pieces of your younger self who cried every night, carving the blame deeper into her tiny wrists for not being good enough. Not worth the trouble of being in your life. So you grew paranoid of being viewed as an inconvenience, craving that lack of parental love from anyone who has shown even a glimpse of affection. 

Meeting Jungkook saved you from your breaking point, the night you thought you would go to sleep forever. Sitting on the rails of the Han River Bridge, you thought about the people whose life would be impacted by the loss of yours. In the moment, it was like your mind went blank, consciousness completely obscured by the lack of significance you brought to the world. Unable to fold even one pathetic finger, you felt the tears run down your face as your body shivered in fear. Losing sight of how deep the water went, your breaths became irregular, chest heaving up from the rush of adrenaline in your system. Knowing that this would be your last jump, made it all go away. In the end, nothing ever matters because we all die anyway. Some of us just choose to push their luck and see the afterlife faster than others. 

Closing your eyes you whispered a silent goodbye to your parents, wherever and whoever they were. Thanking them for the opportunity to experience life, however shitty it turned out to be. And as you felt your fingers slowly let go of the metal pillars, you took in your last breath before finally finding peace. 

“Are you out of your mind?” a male voice pierces through your senseless state as you feel your arm being yanked back. 

“What the fuck man? Let go,” you snap, body dangling midair as his other arm latches onto you. 

“Hold on for fuck’s sake,” he growls in frustration, digging his fingers deeper into your blue-ish skin as you fight back the friction. 

“I don’t need your saving.” you cry out, unable to control the stream of mixed emotions. 

“I’m not doing this for you.” his gaze furrows, clenching his jaw as his hand cushions the back of your head before your back hits the cement pavement.  

It’s true. In the moment, he wasn’t saving you. While holding onto your dangling body, all he could see was the sadness in his sister’s hollow eyes. He could feel the fear that rushed through her veins as she jumped off of their apartment complex. Alone. Consumed by the darkness of the cold winter night. No one heard her screams, and no one rushed to ease the pain. Unable to swallow down his antidepressants, Jungkook decided to stay the night at his friend’s house in hopes of muting the sound of his parent’s endless fights. Clueless to the reality of it all, his selfish act of leaving behind the only person who shared his misery. His sweet girl, Jieun. Now, they only see each other in his nightmares. The ones in which he begs for her forgiveness, wishing he could hold her one last time. Hear the laughter coming out of her room as he walks down their shared corridor, only to find it buried with white sheets of dust. 

“I was so close …” you whispered under your breath, bloodshot eyes filled with tears. 

“What’s the point? The pain never ends,” he sighs, resting his head on one of the pillars with his arms around his knees. 

“I have no one else. Who do I live for now?” you cry out with a trembling chin.

“Live for me,” he whispers, tears running down his cheek as he pictures Jieun in the back of his mind.

[meet-me-in-the-pouringrain]

The Phoenix And The Rocket

Chapter 5 / 8-ish

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Emily Prentiss, at the insistent of her therapist, signs up for a Trauma ‘dumping’ site. She never expected that her Dump would connect her back to her old boss and the man she’s been in love with for over ten years.

Also the man she’s absolutely furious at for leaving

We’re moving spectacularly fast yall, i’m the one writing and i’m like 🫣 slow down guys

Edit : Since publishing I have been made aware that the term ‘Trauma Bonding’ is actually an abuse tactic and doesn’t mean ‘bonding over shared trauma’. Would like to make it clear that was a very strong mistake on my part and I apologise deeply for any offence.

Read below the cut

She's not surprised when Dave walks in her office when the case ends and they're home five days later, two glasses in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other. She manages a smile at him as he shuts the door and sits up to pluck the bottle up.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Dave asks, teasing but Emily can detect the concern. "Who the guy is?" After her outburst at the precinct, he knew there was more to the story.

After the thing with Mendoza ended badly, Dave was Emily's sounding board. He was there for her in lieu of any of the girls as a drinking buddy, an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.

Emily didn't have a father growing up, he ran out the second he could, and Dave has worked his way in, settling in her heart and filling that hole in her life. It's not a secret they have a relationship further beyond colleagues. He's her father figure in all walks of life and she's his daughter.

His favourite child out of all of them, if you will.

The concern he's showing her now is that of a father panicking about his daughter not of a colleague probing into another's love life.

She's told her girls, and they've most likely already relayed the information to Garcia so eventually the correct story is going to go around so she may as well confess her sins now.

Emily sighs and swigs the drink to hold of her reply. "I don't know" She admits finally. Seeing his confused expression, she looks down, fiddling with her glass. "It's an anonymous website" She tells him. "It's called TraumaBuddi-"

"TraumaBuddies" Dave finishes off, nodding. "Heard of it, it's where you unload all your shit right?"

"Yeah" Emily laughs slightly at his words. "Yeah it is. Some of the stuff on there is heavy" She breathes, shaking her head. "But uh. Yeah this guys story was intriguing so" She shrugs and finishes her first glass quickly, just after he took two sips of his own.

"So what is it?" The man asks, intrigued.

Emily pauses, wondering not for the first time if by telling a story that wasn't hers to tell would be betrayal. Dave seems to read her mind, for he nods and backs off.

But Emily decides to tell him everything that Rocket has told her. She can't hold it in any longer, and almost vows that she'll send Rocket an apology once Dave leaves.

She tells him all the details of his story but leaves out anything else. Dave gets told that Rocket's wife was killed by a serial killer but not that Rocket got a piercing on his ear when he was 15 and dared to by the girl who later became his wife. He gets told that Rocket had been stabbed more than 5 times but not that his favourite hobby is fishing because of the way his son laughed when the Bass he caught fought back. He gets told about how Emily talked him through the multiple identity crisis but not that Rocket's favourite movie is Interstellar.

"Wow" Dave laughs when she finishes. Emily is breathless by the time she spews all that out. There is more sneaky glinting in his eye that makes Emily want to scream. "Two serial killers, a car bomb, losing the love of his life?" He shakes his head and drains the rest of his whisky. "If I didn't know any better I'd say this 'Trauma Buddy' was Hotch" He says before standing and disposing of his glass.

Emily freezes mid pouring. His words echoed around her. "Hotch?" She laughs though it was shaky. Dave just looks at her suspiciously. "That's impossible" She shakes her head, resuming her task of pouring a healthy dose.

"Why?"

Another shake of her head and pathetic laughter. "Because it is, Dave" She insists through gritted teeth. A fume of anger sparks in her chest that she doesn't think is fair but also doesn't attempt to push away.

"Okay" The old man shrugs. "Don't drink any more of that bottle, Bella" He warns like a father on his way out of the office. "You drive here."

"Relax, dad" Emily grumbles. "I took a cab" He doesn't hear her as he exits the office otherwise he'd have been forcing her in his car.

Emily sat alone, making no move to follow him, and drank a further two glasses. Dave's words made her lose herself in thought.

It can't be, right?

It was an hour later when the cleaners showed up and the lights shut off that Emily got moving. One of the janitors flashes her a friendly smile, too many late nights in the office was the cause of that, as she leaves. Her hands itched towards her phone as she waits for her cab.

A serial killer who got his Ex-Wife.

Foyet and Haley.

A Car Bomb that made his hearing go fuzzy.

NYC and Kate.

Another serial killer targeting his son.

Scratch and Jack.

Rocket checks all the major boxes.

Emily curses loudly and angrily upon entering her house. She throws her satchel forcefully, stomping towards her laptop. She wonders how in the hell she missed it? Is she that stupid? What kind of profiler is she to not read through the subtext. She slams her fingers on the keyboard, logging into that stupid website and immediately going to Rocket's page.

With every new sentence she grows more angry and resentful until one made her pause.

"After my wife died, I moved on. But just two years later, I experienced the same heartbreak again when I lost the woman who I had grown to love. She didn't know that, of course, when she left but I lost her all the same. She came back briefly for around 7 months but decided to leave again.

In the span of a year I lost the love of my life twice.

In the span of three I had lost two."

It couldn't have been Hotch.

Emily would've have known - Garcia would have blabbed the second it happened - if something that detrimental happened while she was away. In Paris or London. It couldn't have happened while she was here and she just didn't know about it.

It couldn't have been Hotch.

With a sigh of relief, Emily begins typing out a new message.

PhoenixPren : Hey Rocket! I see you haven't replied to my last message is everything okay?

She starts moving around, not one to wait for a reply, when her laptop pings almost instantly.

RockyRackoon : Hello. Sorry for not replying sooner, Max and I are moving house and it's been hectic. How are you, Phoenix?

She smiles, ignoring the warm feeling in her chest, and shrugs as if her partner can see her.

PhoenixPren : Max? Is that your son?

She types and deletes that message a few times before ultimately sending it.

PhoenixPren : And I'm okay.Ish. We have a rough case at work

RockyRacoon : Oof makes me glad i'm retired.

RockyRacoon : And yes, He's my son. He's 16 nearly, we're moving closer to his maternal aunt.

Emily grins at the personal details Rocket shared.  Then her smile wavered. Jack Hotchner would be 16 and Jess still lives around here, somewhere, JJ saw her in a grocery store a few months back.

His name is Max, Emily.

She couldn't tell whether she was happy or disappointed at that.

Mid typing out a polite congratulations / good luck reply, Sergio suddenly shoots out of her workspace making papers fly everywhere.

"Sergio!" She scolds, exasperated. "What is up with you lately?" She shakes her head, putting a hand on her beating chest. She ignores the pest as he mewls for her attention, dropping to her knees to pick up the papers. Emily can't even tell you what half of them are and spends a while just reading over them with furrowed brows.

Until she gets to a paper that only she has and that she should have destroyed.

A letter of resignation, another of recommendation followed by two fake IDs.

Aaron and Jack.

Frank and Max.

Emily buckles, falling to sit awkwardly on her hip as she gasps. No fucking way. She scans each ID thoroughly, lingering on Jack's - Max's - for far too long.

Well now she was fucked.

A ping on her laptop made her whirl around.

RocketRacoon : Actually, Max's aunt lives in Alexandria, Virginia. Isn't that your neck of the woods?

She could scream.

With shaky hands, she types slowly.

PhoenixPren : Yeah. I'm in Dupont Circle.

RocketRaccoon : Oh, only 20 minutes away.

Emily is still on her knees on the floor, using her couch as a table.

Don't do it. Please don't ask. If you ask I cannot say no.

RocketRaccoon : This may be a bit forward, But would you like to get coffee? We arrive Friday Morning.

Ah, he did it.

Emily was typing before she could even think. The possibility that it was that man was making her act upon impulse.

PhoenixPren : Given that my team and I aren't on a case, absolutely. I know a great cafè in Alexandria. Rise and Grind.

She recalls, briefly, that R&G was his favourite coffee place but he never could get it because he lived in Quantico, almost an hour out.

RocketRacoon: I know the place. See you there, Phoenix.

PhoenixPren : How will you know it's me?

RocketRaccoon : I'll know.

Aaron stares at the computer, heart beating fast and filled with dread. Jack is next to him on the couch, waving his broken arm around like he could magically fix it.

He didn't know what the fuck just overcame him.

Inviting her out for coffee?

Where the fuck did that come from?

He removes the glasses from his face, wiping his hand over it tiredly. He groans lowly, making Jack snicker. The trees rustle harshly, mockingly, in the window making him shoot a glare out.

"Mom thinks you're funny to" Jack muses, smirking at the window. Aaron rolls his eyes and closes his laptop after Phoenix doesn't reply.

"Mom can shut up" He retorts, resisting a smirk of his own when the trees shake harder, as if Haley was yelling at him.  She probably was, if he could delude himself that far.

Jack snorts. "That's you told" He says, switching the channel on the tv. "Told you dating is okay."

Aaron groans again and puts the laptop on the floor in front of him. The coffee table is gone, sold in a yard sale they had two days ago. The rest of the nicknacks and furniture around the room baring the couch has either been sold or packed away. They fly out on Thursday night, the cheapest flight times he could find, with the rest of their stuff meeting them throughout the weekend.

It's taken a lot of effort. Jack is in his sophomore year at school so Aaron has had to deal with admin pulling him out, then actually finding a house that's moderately close to another school, vetting the school and seeing which is best for him but also trying to find a house that's close enough to Jess but far away from any of his old teammates.

And that's hard enough in itself when you haven't had contact with any of them so you don't even know where they are living.

So yeah, moving across the country is a little hectic.

"Jack" He scolds. "It's not a date."

"You've been chatting up a woman-"

"I don't think you can call it chattin-“

"You've been chatting up a woman" Jack repeats as if his father hadn't spoken. He smirks as he remembers the woman's user name but wisely chooses not to comment. There's a reason his dad didn't tell him it was Miss Emily, so he won't push. "Flirting a lot and then you ask her out to coffee? Sounds like a date to me dad"

The trees rustle as if to back up his point.

Aaron rolls his eyes. "No it was a moment of madness fuelled by you and your mother's" He points to the tree. "Meddling tendencies." He stands and puts his laptop away in the bag in top of his suitcase. "It is not a date, I'm merely going to meet and thank this woman for helping me. Now, Are we playing Mario Kart or what?" He asks pointedly.

Jack side eyes the window again as Aaron leaves to find the game in one of the boxes. "I don't think we meddle" He says to the ghost of his mom. "Do we?" The trees shake again and Jack takes it as if she's shaking her head. He carefully watches the doorway. "It is who I think it is right, mom?" He asks softly. "Be still if it is." The child that still lives inside him holds out the imagination that the nature outside really is his mom, still with him.

The trees shake gently a few times before the wind miraculously dies down. Jack breaks into a wide smile as Aaron comes back with the game in hand.

"What?" His father asks suspiciously.

Jack just shakes his head. "Nothin" He replies nonchalantly. The tree backs him up with another shiver, making Aaron roll his eyes and start the game with no other thought cast to his ‘date’.

Word count :2200

tag list : @lonelychicagos @84hotpockets @serqueljisbon @loriprentiss @velvetblackness @castielryan

If you would like to be added or removed from the taglist, just DM me ❤️

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

Thunder rumbled in the background of their house. It was quiet inside. No Kiyotaka, Kiyondo or even Chihiro. Just Takaaki and Taichi in their bed, holding each other. They're older now. Their daughter was older too. She's going to high school now! They were so proud.

They missed their daughter Takara, but she was grown now. Had her dorm.

They didn't mind the quiet, though.

Just them.

Takaaki awoke from his sleep, it was many hours too early to go to work. Taichi was sound asleep. How adorable he was, his soft snoring, the clinging to Takaaki's body…

He ran a hand through Taichi's hair, kissing his husband's forehead.

Peaceful.

Takaaki was taken out of his loving thoughts with a knock to the door. What? It was late, who'd be at the door at that hour? Takaaki had to check. Could've been something important. Someone important.

He turned on a small lamp, then opened the door to his daughter Takara. She was crying and sniffling as the rain poured. "Takara? What's wrong, Honey?" Takaaki asked her as she hugged him. "C-Can I stay here for th-the night?" Takara asked through her sobbing. "Of course." Takaaki took her in and closed the door. "What happened?" Takaaki asked again.

Takara didn't answer.

"Do you want some water?" Takaaki asked as he helped her sit on the couch. She was shaking. Her clothes were wet, too…

Takara nodded. "Mm-hm…"

Takaaki nodded back and went to grab a towel for her. He wrapped it around her and went into the kitchen as she dried herself off. Takaaki grabbed a glass cup from the cupboard and poured water in it.

She shakily took it when he handed her the cup. She took a sip from it and looked up at him with eyes filled with tears. In the dim lighting, he could see all the tear streaks that coated her cheeks. Her eyes puffy and red from all the crying. He moved her blonde-brown hair behind her ear, exposing all her ear piercings. "Did something happen in school?" He asked first.

"N-No." Takara shook her head, looking down at her hands. "Fight with a friend?" Takaaki asked next. "No." Takara answered again with another head shake. "Nightmare?" Takaaki tilted his head to the side when he asked that. He smiled softly as he said it.

Takara nodded.

"You could've just said that. Nothing to hide about. Nightmares are normal." Takaaki sat down next to her and hugged her. "What was it about? Do you remember?" Takaaki questioned softly. Takara looked up at him again, tears falling down harder. "I-I…I was scared to lose you and Papa." Takara only answered.

Kinda vague…

Takaaki sighed and kissed her head. "You won't lose us…or well, not yet." Takaaki said with a slight smile. "I don't want to lose you! Ever! You're all I have." Takara said, holding onto him tightly. She looked so small. He was reminded of when Kiyotaka was little. After Takaaki's wife died and when his father died a few years after.

"You won't lose us. But it's not like me and your father have a lot more years left of living, Sweetheart." Takaaki chuckled. "Mm…I want you two to live to 100…" Takara pouted. Takaaki laughed, "How about we sleep this off? Let me get your room ready." Takaaki got up but Takara grabbed his hand. He raised a brow.

"Can I sleep in your room? You and Papa can protect me from my nightmares." She joked with a few hiccups from crying. "Aren't you a little too old for us to protect you from those?" Takaaki joked back affectionately. "Please, Dad?" Takara pleaded.

"Of course." Takaaki scouped her up into his arms and carried her into his and Taichi's bedroom after turning the light off. Takara held onto her father, a soft expression on her face. She felt warm in his embrace. "Dear, mind scooting over? We seem to have a guest joining us." Takaaki whispered to his husband. He lightly shook him.

Taichi looked up at them, he breathed in deeply and exhaled. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." Taichi nodded and moved more to his side. Takaaki put their daughter between them and climbed into bed. Taichi wrapped an arm around Takara, "Hey, Sweetbean. Rough night?" He asked her. She nodded and clinged onto Taichi.

"She had a nightmare. But it's okay, we're here for her. Aren't we, Dear?" Takaaki said to Taichi, smiling. "Of course. Always." Taichi sleepily agreed. Takaaki wrapped an arm around Takara as well, then kissed her head. "Goodnight." He whispered.

"Goodnight." Takara said softly as she listened to Taichi doze off quickly. Thunder rumbled again. So far away it didn't wake anyone. It calmed the teen girl as she laid in her two fathers arms. In their warm embrace as they protected her from any worry that would cloud her thoughts.

[hoseokmoons]

jeon jeongguk, demisexual, cismale + he/him ― hey look, it’s moon hoseok! he's twenty-four years old, he's lived in shrike heights for three years, and he's currently working at a new chapter. i heard he's pretty isolated, but i think he's so creative at the same time. can he make it out alive?

so this kid is very close to my heart, like more than most of my other muses that i have ever written. i bully him, but he’s my precious boy and i will fight for him, okay? fghjk

this is to keep you guys busy until i finish writing up his bio (i will leave out anything that would warrant a tw from this one for those who just want a more casual overview)

> in this house we only wear black. he looks he’s up to no good - almost exclusively wears black hoodies, so people might think he never changes outfits, but he just always looks the same tbh fghjk. fashion is effort he does not have the energy for. he’s also got a bunch of piercings in his ears and has recently started getting tattoos on his arms. so he looks a little intimidating to most people at first, especially because his general expression is pretty stoic and he can sit still for way too long, so ppl who don’t know him might get uncomfortable around him.

> in reality tho he’s a soft boy who has struggled with depression for at least 10 years. he’s got ASD as well as an avoidant personality disorder, so socializing with strangers is a very rough task for him. he’s on meds to help with his anxiety, but they make him slightly numb as a side effect, hence him being a little expressionless sometimes. > he was adopted at the age of 13, after his father was sent to prison and his mother was unable to take care of him due to her own issues. though he originally grew up in busan in south korea, he was adopted by a family in the states. adapting to this wasn’t any easier or harder than anything else he’s ever had to push himself to do, but losing both his parents in such a short amount of time has been quite traumatic.

> ever since he was young, reading has been his favorite hobby. he would be up all night, secretly finishing the latest book he had found himself invested in. other major interests of his are movies (especially scary ones) and music (primarily rock and metal). fantasy has always been a welcome escape for him and he prefers it over the real world, almost to an unhealthy degree where he will neglect himself or his friends if he gets sucked in too far. > at the age of 4 he suddenly stopped talking and was a full mute for almost 2 years. after that he gradually started speaking again but only to very select people. nowadays he’s a little better at answering people’s questions as long as his anxiety doesn’t make him completely shut down. he still has a stutter when speaking to people he doesn’t fully trust and sometimes accidentally throws korean words into his sentences when he’s nervous rambling and his brain can’t keep up. this also happens when he gets too enthusiastic about things.

> demisexual & panromantic - he’s very closed off and not the biggest fan of intimacy in general. he likes holding hands and hugs, but there needs to be an insane amount of trust to get more out of him. > he’s smart, even though he won’t ever admit it. he’s pretty funny too, once he’s comfortable enough to show that side of himself. the best version you can get is when you’re one on one with him tbh

there’s a pinterest board HERE but please do keep in mind that this has some of the tw stuff in here, they are tagged in the board description, although the last one isn’t super present, it’s kinda referenced/implied so it’s tagged just in case!!

ahem anyway pls mssg me if you want more info or wanna plot stuff xx

[ladyravenblack]

Home part 4:

TW: mentions of abuse, SA, and drinking

I grapple with the feeling in my chest, a sort of burning. Salem had been absent the past week, clearly avoiding me. She didn’t attend any meals, the observatory was always quiet, hell her untrained abilities hadn’t even invaded my radios!

Tugging at my hair, small tufts coming away, I sigh and slam my hand upon the table I’m sitting at. What a ridiculous way to feel over a stupid, little demon. Despising the persistent wriggling of her on my mind I reach for the decanter of amber liquid, ignoring the glass and drinking straight from the source. A soft buzz beginning as I make my way through the bottle.

Drinking was a casual thing for me, an act of normalcy to maintain some sense of humanity. Not that I needed it, no. No it was simply a way to stay connected to who I once was.

The liquor running through my veins has left me blurry, a soft static where music should be. The bottle now lay empty upon the table as I summon forth another. How long had it been since I drank like this? As a boy I had sworn to never drink lest I wind up a mean, evil man like my father but I became that without the help of alcohol.

Mother was never a drinker, I muse over far away memories. How she always swore it was for the weak minded and sorrowful men while bustling about to clean up the mess my father would have made the night before. Sporting bruises way too often as she cleaned, she’d always speak them away with soft lies, but I knew. I had heard her far too many nights pleading for him to stop, that he’d kill her if he kept going and then the soft sobs as he would grunt and groan, his anger turning into a sexual fervor. How mother never got pregnant again I will never know, he was on her most nights like a dog.

Returning to the present I count the bottles, three? No four. What a mess. I stagger to my feet and hold myself up with the edge of the table, mind still flicking between here and there, unable to inhabit one place in time.

Mama had been kind when father had first started hitting me. She had bound every wound and kissed every forming bruise. I had stepped between them as he had gone to lash at her, his belt wrapped around his fist as he brought it down. The pain didn’t even register at first, and then it felt like fire. I could feel the blood from the cut on my cheek slipping down, only for a moment before another hit connected.

Father beat me half to death that night, all his anger and inability, taken out on fifteen year old me. He never hit mama though, not then anyway. He still took her to their room, leaving me bleeding and unable to move while their headboard hit the wall over and over, sounding eerily similar to his fists. The only difference was mamas tears, instead of worry and pleading tears they sounded like tears of pain, her cries for him to be gentle reaching my ears that I desperately had tried to cover in my broken state.

When I awoke the next morning I had been placed in bed, mama surely. It wasn’t long before she had come back in, a slightly limp to her step as she tended to me, telling me at least he wouldn’t be back that night since he was going out with his friends. Friends that stank as much as he did, friends that when invited over would get to have their way with mama too.

The chair I’m clinging to cracks beneath my fingers, wood piercing my flesh, dragging me back to reality. I was no better than the man who made me. My anger, my hunger, always needing satiated. I want others to fear me!

Throwing the chair against the wall I slump against the bed, ears ringing from the silence I can’t stand but no matter how I try nothing begins to play. No soft jazz to soothe my aching head and no static to quiet the constant toss into the past.

My back against the side of the bed and my head resting upon the top of the duvet, eyes plastered to the ceiling, my smile still painfully poised; everything seemed to be mocking me. Taunting me to lose myself.

I remember why I don’t get drunk~

[neno1302]

The Last Sorceress

The world is not a pleasant place for a young witch like me. One has to become a stranger to oneself in order to survive. I no longer recognize the woman staring back at me in the rippling waves of the muddy pond water. Staring back is the reflection of a weak woman who sold her soul to the Christian Gods and bowed to patchetic men, but it is not the real me, I am sure of this. For I am Gytha, daughter of powerful sorceress Gytha. The descendant of a long line of strong women fighting to survive and the daughter of the dark woods that wraps around great kingdoms and land. I am Gytha. 

An uncontrolled spark grazed past my rosy cheek and bounced off the stone covered walls. The ten year old boys’ eyes were glossy with defeat, his dirty blonde hair ruffled from the sweat and agitation of today's lesson.

“Do not be disheartened my young warrior, it will come to you, you have the touch of magic inside of you, I can feel it.” I told him. 

“I am a muddle, I will never be able to do magic mother, it all feels worthless.” The boy responded. 

“Have patience my son and you have to keep your composure to be able to control the force.”

Uthreds eyes roused once more with a kind of fire in them that I had never witnessed before. That was when I knew that the boy would grow up to become a strong young warrior once the time is right.

“Now let us try again and this time you have to not lose your concentration, channel your inner strength from your core and envision the light coming from the palms of your hands.” I instructed him.

“I am ready, mother.”

After the lesson had ended I walked Uthred back to the fortress. We avoided the light like the plague and floated like a mist through the dark shadows to not get noticed by anyone. His company reminded me of how I one day will have to leave our studies behind for I can not keep this secret of mine exposed to him for much longer. This will have to become a secret for him as well as it is to his father and everyone else in Bebbanburg. For several years now we have been hiding away from prying eyes and ears and held studies on witchcraft, scriptures and spells from my ancestors' grimoire. Soon, he will be ready to fight on his own, and when that time comes around, I will be forced to leave him on his own, just as I was left once upon a time. If anyone found out that I possess this kind of power and worldly knowledge they would have us hanged or beheaded, and that I would never want for Uthred. There is guilt washing over me as I lay down next to a sleeping rugged man many years older than me. It was an act of survival when I married ealdorman Uthred and became a so-called woman of God; a pure christian woman who fooled an entire kingdom that she is a devoted wife to the one true religion. 

The morning sun warmed up my cold and lonely body that my ever so caring husband had left many hours ago. I flung on my dull powder blue, floor length frock and put a couple of intricate braids in my long wavy raven hair. I did not bother to put on any adornments or silver, a devoted christian woman would not care for such embellishment and I had to look the part. As I creeped down the fortress steps to start my day, I heard an ear piercing scream coming from the grounds. Peeping out the tiny window beside me I saw two of the kitchen maids laid spread out in the courtyard and surrounding them were several savage looking men towering over the middle aged women. The sight bewildered me as I did not know what had happened. When my mind cleared and the initial shock washed away all that occupied my mind was little Uthred, my son, my Uthred. I felt as if my legs were no longer a part of my body as I hurtled through the halls looking after him. Searching through every little nook trying to feel his energy, doing my everything to link our energies together in order to sense his presence. Wondering whether he is scared, if he is safe? Hoping that he is not hurt. Cursed by the ancestors be the one who dares touch a hair on that boy I thought as I in a hurdle began looking for him. Not feeling his presence, I in a haze ran up to the highest point of the greatest tower to get a pure vision of the enemies. I felt an evil energy that is proven true when I witnessed Danes have stormed and invaded the big indestructible shield walls everybody had believed were unbreakable. Suddenly they were like walls made of wheat straws, pulverized by vicious, bloody danes. Through the smoke of battling warriors came screaming servants scared for their life. A familiar face stood out. Priest Beocca, whose face was filled with fright. As he came closer we made eye contact. “Dear, Beocca, what is going on? Where is Uhtred?” I screamed. 

“Run Gytha! You have to flee! The Danes have attacked. Your husband is dead! Bebbanburg has fallen!” Beocca cried back. 

“Where is My Son!?” I repeated, feeling ever so anxious he had fallen with his father.

“The Pagans took him. He is now the new Ealdorman. Come with me Gytha, with Ælfric.”

I did not respond to Beocca. I disappeared. I disappeared together with my thoughts and with my body. Trying to avoid the Danes I fled through the disguised dark tunnels of Bebbanburg that only my boy and I knew of. The woods! I am running towards the woods, my only sanctuary, my only safety. As I was on the run I started thinking about my sweet boy even more. I cried out to the spirits for support.

“Please help me find my boy!” 

In return the spirits gave me a memory of the night I made his necklace.

Under the cover of the night, as the world around me slumbered in deep sleep, I ascended with silent movement to the forest. The full moon cast an ethereal glow upon the cave hidden away from the prying eyes of the Christians. The fragrant smell of lavender, rosemary and a twist of cinnamon filled my senses. My eyes looked at the animal bones, amulets and crystals hanging on the ridged wall and I fetched my materials. Initiating the sacred ritual, I placed the black tourmaline in the middle and scattered salt around in a circle as a barrier to keep out bad spirits. I wished upon protection in the stone, protection from all evil, bad and harm. 

‘Guardianum Shielda!’ I Chanted.

The black tourmaline embraced the power of the full moon and beamed with a luminous glow and the spirits came with the wind to further strengthen the enchantment. I heard their whispers and they told me that this stone shall forever be a sacred connection and Uthred should always carry it with him.

I walked back to the fortress and put the stone necklace around Uhtred's neck who was still sleeping soundly…

Thrown back to the present, my mind went straight to his necklace and I tried  connecting with it. When I reached the sacred grounds of the woods I felt the slightest touch of relief. I knew that my sweet boy had his necklace and that it would always protect him as the spirits had promised. Though, this did not keep me from worrying about his whereabouts. 

I do not know where I was born or where I come from, but I do know that I come from a line of powerful witches. I was raised by a woman finding me as a baby alone in the deep dark woods. She had told me that I was surrounded by a bright light when she found me and knew that I was a special child with a purpose. She was nor my blood nor my kin but she became my family and I called her Old Mother. Old Mother taught me everything I know, how to fight, how to survive and how to live. We lived in a little moss covered cottage, deep in the wild woods, surrounded by beds of various herbs and flowers. We did not have much but we had each other. Sometimes growing up I thought we were hiding from someone, but I never had the courage to ask Old Mother such questions. In the back of my mind I always wondered why Old Mother chose to keep me and raise me as her own flesh and blood. As each day passed and as I got older I started to see things more clearly, she was an older woman shunned from her own village for paganism and she was lonely. I saved her from solitude. Everyday was a new lesson with her. She taught me not to be frightened of the darkness in the woods. Instead she told me to see the light and beauty in it, to feel the comfort it could bring in the darkest of days. Years later I one day suddenly realized that I knew this forest just as the back of my hand. It had become my only home and my only safety. I did not know of a life outside this woodland. I did not know about riches and servants in big fortresses. All I knew was what Old Mother had told me stories of. 

My first memory with Old mother was in the depths of the darkest part of the forest, I recall noises of echoing ravens and wild animals. I remembered witnessing her comforting moss green eyes, similar to the shades of green you could find on our cottage, filled with determination and strength.

“The forest carries the heart of distant tales” She had told me. 

She taught me about all of its secrets, about its language and how to navigate. I followed her footsteps unquestioningly deeper and deeper to the unknown. I felt safe with Old Mother, I had always trusted her blindly. Suddenly she stopped and showed me a green, almost dead looking weed. 

Despite its appearance, it held healing properties. She showed me how to use it to heal a scrape I had on my shoulder from our lesson earlier that day. That day I also discovered the gift of the forest, herbology, and all the edible and herbal plants which I would never have guessed were useful. 

“Close your eyes and breathe deeply, listen and feel the wind, it will take you to your destination”. 

I closed my eyes and felt the energy of the wind moving south. I slowly started walking and suddenly found myself back in our cottage.

Back in the warmth of our humble cottage, Old Mother was teaching me lessons of poise, etiquette and femininity. She had implied that I would need to know this absurdity later in life. With a gentle touch, she guided me to sit with grace. I pulled back my shoulders, lifted my chin up and sat nervously with my hands fidgeting in my lap. In front of me I eyed our small wooden table filled with a modest spread of bread, cheese and some dried meat. I clutched the utensils and Old Mother showed me the purpose of each one. I found myself baffled and famished just wanting to devour the supper and sustain my hunger. Every supper after this day turned into lessons of poise and grace and I learned how to survive on a half full gut.

As if it was not enough that I had to learn about table etiquette and go around hungry all the time. We further held studies on how to converse with other humans and speak eloquently. That may have sounded like a needless lesson to have but I had never met another human except for Old Mother. Old Mother explained how the outside world viewed witches negatively and that I should keep that part of me secret and take it to the grave. The magic that coursed through my veins was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing for protection, but a curse for its endangerment on my life. She showed me how to study the signs and emotions of those around me. I learned about body language, facial expressions and the demeanor of different individuals I could possibly encounter through my journeys. 

“Gytha, when you want to speak confidently with a man, maintain eye contact, nod to show understanding but remember to respond accordingly”, she said sternly. 

“ Yes Old Mother”,  I responded.

“Remember little girl, you must never show your weakness to a man, but also never show him that you possess the brains that they do not have”. 

“Why? How are they different from us?” I asked sincerely curious.

“They are not different, but they believe they are! When you provoke a man, he will always choose to use his hands to fight, never his brain”. She insinuated that if I wanted to survive, I must keep my mouth closed at all times and never lose my control.

I did not feel like I had enough time with Old Mother. We lived together as one for 19 years, but I still felt like it was not enough. It was a regular day and I was in the cottage preparing for our daily practice when I noticed Old Mother had not yet come back from gathering herbs needed for the wounds I was about to welcome. I fetched my satchel and went out, deciding to go bear her a hand. Wandering through the open land full of different herbs, I saw an earth toned piece of cloth embedded in between a large gray stone, and a fallen tree log covered in moss and mushrooms. Recognizing the piece of cloth my breath shortened and my heart stopped for what felt like an eternity. My legs bore me as I began to sprung, my eyes like hawks searching for the only person I had left in my life. Without realizing it my legs had come to a halt, the feeling of emptiness washed over me like winter cold water from the streams flowing throughout the forest. There she was lying peacefully in between the bed of lavender and rosemary bushes. Approaching her with heavy footsteps and blurry vision I kneeled down to give her a kiss of goodbye. Feeling a warm breeze on my cheek I looked up to see Old Mothers eyes searching for mine. 

“You are alive!” I said, my eyes overflowing with tears.

“Only for a moment longer my dear. My Gytha, the day has come that I must leave you and you have to continue on your own.”

“No, please, NO! You can not leave me yet! I can not live without you, I am not ready!”

“You are ready, I have given you all I have and all I know.” Old mother said with a weak, heavy-breathing voice.

“I have no one, you are all I have left.”

“Not for long, you will be saved from loneliness. The way that you saved me.” Her eyes were calm but began welling up.

“You have given me a life full of warmth, love, happiness and hope, a life worth living when all was lost and dark, my Gytha.” 

She held my cold shivering hand in hers and for the last time warming it up with her love, for a moment we laid there in the lavender and rosemary covered field holding each other for the last time. The last time that I would feel her wrinkly overworked but warm hands in mine. We laid there together until she took her very last breath. That night I had to bury the only mother I had ever known. I decided that it was time to leave our home behind, to leave the woods behind and be on my way, finding new adventures. My memories brought me to one of the stories Old Mother had told me of a land named Bebbanburg. I did not know if the land was real or something made up, but I was determined to find that out by myself. My training was not over and I felt unready to fight anyone coming in my way. Little did I know that day would come very soon. 

I walked and walked and walked for weeks on end, I had many encounters with brute and ugly men trying to lay their hands on me but I found the strength to fight them off. On my journey I inquired women, the only humans I had a little bit of faith in, about the land of Bebbanburg. Old Mother had spoken the truth in her stories, it had always been real. I had heard of an older man called Uhtred being the new ealdorman of Bebbanburg, he was a rugged man in his forties and had already been married twice. My life burden had been decided. 

I had to win over that ruggedly wicked old man to somewhat grow fond of me and marry me. It would not be so difficult, I thought to myself, he is after all a man, a man who sees a beautiful young woman and decides that he must own her. In a small village next to Bebbanburg I had stolen or as I always said to mother, borrowed a lovely floor length, forest green frock. I chose that one for it reminded me of the many green hues of my home. I also braided my long unkempt hair in an intricate braid to show that I was of status. As my right foot took its first step into the marks of the fortress I held my breath. I do not know why I held my breath but I did. I thought about mothers lesson and remembered to walk with poise and purpose. I strutted toward the entrance of the main house and demanded to speak to a priest I had heard of named Beocca. My plan was to befriend Beocca as a woman wanting to become a pure and true christian, all this so I would be noticed and come closer to the ealdorman of the kingdom. It took exactly five days for him to take notice of my presence and to become enchanted by me, and on the sixth day we were to be wed.

When the Danes attacked I decided the best place to run to that nobody knew of was where it all began. I journeyed back to the woods where I grew up together with Old Mother. I survived 21 years in that cottage so I knew that I was safe. I did not want to be controlled by any other kingdom. Instead I wanted to control my own destiny. About ten years after gathering my strength, making plans, working on my fighting, strengthening my powers and looking all over the kingdom for Uhtred I left the cottage and continued on my journey yet again all alone. A few weeks later I stumbled across a village left in charred ruins. I believe it must have been traces of when it was attacked by the relentless Danes. As I walked through the village, the air felt thick as the sky was gray from all the devastation. The smoldering ruins caught my interest and I decided to stay for a while. After I had sourced around the place I had found nothing of interest and I decided to continue my journey. When I was ready to leave I heard a sound coming from behind a ruined house. An animal scouring for shelter perhaps? My curiosity led me closer to the sound and I could sense a spiritual presence. To my surprise it was not any sort of animal behind the ruin. Instead there sat a girl. A special girl I could sense. Her eyes reflected grief and I could sense a peculiar energy once I made contact with her eyes. I could tell she had noticed my energy. 

“Who are you, my dear?”, I asked the young girl. She looked stumbled and it took a while before I got an answer.  

“I … I believe my name is Iseult”, she answered. 

I stepped forward, realizing dawning upon Iseult. There must have been a purpose for our encounter and for me to have been led to this desolate place. I introduced myself to Iseult. That my name was Gytha and that I was on a journey to find my son that I had lost in combat. 

“His name is Uthred, and he is the true Ealdorman of Bebbanburg”, I told Iseult. She looked confused, but as the story unfolded it cleared. 

“I believe I can help you”, she told me. I could feel hope building within me. 

“Destiny has guided you here, Gytha, for I am the one who is destined to find your son” , Iseult continued. 

That was how I was sure that I had found my companion on my search for my son. There was a unique spark within Iseult. A spark of dormant magic, a spark of unspoken purpose. With solemn determination I became not just an observer for Iseult but a mentor to guide her on unlocking the mysteries that lay ahead. She showed me the way to her shelter that she had built after her village was attacked. It was made out of burned wood and string made out of dried grass. The Danes had plundered everything, and before they left to continue on their mission to take over their next destination, they set her village on fire.

“For some peculiar reason, I survived that fire. Everyday I thank our God for saving me. It really was a true miracle!”, Iseult told me. I knew I had to tell her about her gift.

“Iseult, there is no God. You are a unique girl. You have been blessed with a gift. That is why you sense your destiny to find my son, Uthred. For you stem from witches”. As I made myself at home in her compact shelter she asked me more about this mission of hers. 

“How do I sense this destiny of mine?”, she asked. 

“Before Uthred was taken away by the Danes I gave him a necklace to protect him from evil. You will use your gift to trace him and his necklace”, I said, some hope growing inside me.

“How do I use it?”, she questioned.

“I will teach you everything that you will have to know Iseult. Do not worry!”. 

We began to bond amidst the black magic. I showed her everything I knew about protective spells, everything that Older Mother had taught me. I taught Iseult the way to connect herself to others through spiritual presence. She learned everything that I once had taught Uhtred and she was a fast learner. Just a couple of days after we had stumbled across each other, Iseult had improved a lot. I could begin to feel the potential energy within Iseult and the actual training was about to begin.  

“I am afraid, Gytha," Iseult told me one morning.

“Why so?”, I asked, preparing the grimoire Old Mother had gifted me many years ago.

“Something inside of me weighs me down. It feels dark, almost like a black hole of sorts that drags me towards it”

“What do you see inside of that black hole, Iseult?”

She closed her eyes and wrinkled her forehead. 

“I see another human. A man who is tall and has long hair. He is with a girl, in the woods, I believe”

Uhtred! I was sure It had to be Uthred! Not believing what had just reached my ears I accidentally let my guard down for a second jumping around and laughing joyfully.

“Well done, Iseult! Do not let this force fool you. May this magic lead you further. Trust in this power and it will guide you back to my son!”. I hugged her dearly, getting a nostalgic feeling of proudness. 

Over the next five years Iseult grew to be a beautiful woman. She had red, long, curly hair and a cheeky smile. I went through all the rituals that she had to learn alongside her quest of finding my son. One which involved a peculiar item. A stone for Iseult to carry with her. The stone was empowered with one of our rituals that we had been improving as time went by. With the help of her nightly visions and my knowledge of magic, I had taken my time to improve it to the tiniest of details. Envisioning it with everything I had ever known of. The ground scattered beneath us as we practiced the ritual and the stone was blessed with the power of defining the path forward. But there was a slight inconvenience. Iseult was the only one who could define this power of the stone, and only once the time was right. Until that, the only thing I could do was wait.

While we waited the years invited us deeper into the realms of magic. We had left Iseults’ small shelter and settled into a cave, far deep into the forest, in hope that we would stay hidden from any nearby visitors. It was five years since I first met Iseult and not only had Iseult improved as the sorceress she was destined to be, but I had also found myself becoming much stronger. I could sense my independence coming back after the years I had falsely devoted myself to the Christian church. The mentorship had brought back the power that Old Mother had brought out from within me and Iseult had made me feel alive again. A feeling I thought I lost the day my only mother had left me. 

As we dwelled into unfamiliar spells a thread of destiny revealed itself. A thread that would become a woven tapestry of magic. Once the air  hummed through the tapestry a melody could be heard. Dust bounced off the cave walls and whispered secrets of completion. The time was close, I could feel it. We prepared a ritual by surrounding an item I had kept in good closure through these years. A piece of Uthreds’ hair. I salted this sacred item and sprinkled it with a mixture of dried herbs. We began the ritual and the air around us began whispering words of truth. The air held the response to our intentions and Iseult’s senses attuned to the energies around her. She fell down on her knees and went into a quiet temper. Smoke began to slinger out of Uthreds’ hair, middling around us and with it carried our intentions. I tried to bind contact with smoke by enclosing my eyes. As I dragged a breath of fresh air I had found yet another clue for our mission on finding my son and a further spell revealed itself. I closed my mouth and could taste the sweet feeling of relief.  The enchanted cave left myself and Isuelt silent. We shared a moment of stillness as the smoke from Uthreds' hair went blank. The silence echoed on the sparse walls of the cave and I looked down for a moment to gather back my strength but was soon startled by the sudden sound of Iseult's voice.

”I see him! I see Uthred” , Iseult chanted! 

The spell that had been revealed was the final step on marking the path on finding Uthred. 

“It is not the same as before. This time it is not a black hole sucking me in, it is an enlightened trace leading me towards him, luminating his presence. Now, I am sure of how I can find him!”.  

I was shocked. The ritual had worked. The astounding news left me in a shocked state of mind. I left the cave to find comfort in the night sky. The stars gave me sense. 

“We are done” , I whispered to myself. 

“Are we?”, Iseult asked.

“Yes. Now, let us get some well deserved rest.”

The night was cold so we lit a fireplace inside of the cave. When we sat down around our fireplace Iseult's eyes suddenly went white, just as if she was possessed.

“Iseult! What's happening?!” I shouted with fear, but she just sat there purely calm, not seeming to notice my worry. I knew she had visions but they would mostly come in her sleep or as a faint memory, never like this. After a few minutes she came back. In complete calmness she said,

“I saw him again, Gytha. I saw Uthred. This time I could see where he was located. He is walking alone in a distant forest. I can find him, the spirits force me to find him.”

The next morning I sent Iseult away to find Uthred, it would be a long journey for her but I knew she could make it. I had trained her well and the spirits had faith in her. Now, all I could do was wait. 

A few months went by, everyday I waited on a sign that Iseult had found my son. Everyday I sought comfort in the spirits and continued to have faith, but the wait was a torture bestowed upon my soul. I knew that Iseult would find him, but would something or someone come in her way? She was still young, only 21 years of age, the same age I had been once when I had to begin my travels by myself. And one thing I had learned is that the world had never been fair to young women, especially not a young woman traveling in her own company.

Iseult’s journey started with the guidance of the magic stone. The feeling was strong in her body, heart and soul. Amidst what Gytha thought, Iseult did not tell her that she already anticipated her arrival. She was not a fully grown sorceress at the time, but she knew, she knew it was her destiny to meet this woman since Gytha is the chosen one. The chosen one leading her to her fate. She followed the map, glowing with ethereal light, unfolding the path ahead. The forest, which was once silent, seemed alive now with whispers of anticipation. It was as if nature itself acknowledged the significance of Iseult’s quest. 

(Iseults POV)

I navigated through the dense woodlands, crossed flowing rivers, and traveled further to my destination. The enchanted stone pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat and its energy guided my steps. Every day I had visions of Uhtred and his location, I could feel him getting closer but I could also sense his presence. The connection grew with each vision and before I knew it I got connected with his emotions, but only for short moments. Along the way I met many Pagans and Englishmen, but I knew who to avoid and who to speak to. Either the forest helped me hide or I used the cloaking spell Gytha showed me the first time we ran into the Danes. That was one of the challenges that tested my magical powers. 

In one of the villages I passed through, my stone began to vibrate with energy. Never had I experienced the stone doing such movements before. As I was walking through the village a man came up to me. “ What is your purpose here?” he asked with a stern voice.

“ Just passing through sir ” , I answered calmly. 

“ I can’t let you do that, witches are not welcome here.” 

My whole body froze for a second. How could he know I possess magic? I had to act clueless as I quickly thought of an escape.

“I beg your pardon? I do not know what you are talking about sir.” I said with a confused voice. 

“ I'm just passing through, as I said.” 

“Women never travel alone. Only witches do.” His voice turned cold, so did his face. Before I could even react something hit the back of my head and I fell to the ground. 

Back at the enchanted cave Gytha waited patiently for a sign, just the smallest one. She had begun to worry since it had almost been a year since Iseult left. Never once did the spirits give her a sign that Iseult was fine nor did they give her a sign that Uthred was on the right path. All she wanted was to know that they were on the path of finding each other.

(Gythas POV)

When I headed back to our cave one night I heard a scream. It was out of the ordinary. The scream was filled with pain and fear, but the scream was not coming from the forest. It was inside my head. 

“What is this?”, I thought, barely able to control my own thoughts through the piercing scream.

The scream was loud but I could not figure out whom it belonged to. I tried to calm my mind in order to figure out who was screaming.

"Spirits, please!" Who is calling for me?! Who needs my help?!” I screamed out in agony as my mind was filled with someone else's fear. 

I heard something fall in the distance. It was Iseult’s book! That could only mean one thing. Iseult was in great danger. 

I gathered all of my most potent herbs and objects. I called on the spirits and started a locator spell, I need to find her. Her scream was still ringing in my head, but I needed to concentrate. I used all of my energy and channeled every ounce of my magic to find Iseult. Then a small vision came, a village, a man and a cave. Afterwards, my mind felt heavy. I tried to get up but I could not help but to fall asleep. I woke up by the sun and a strong feeling that drew me south. 

“ I'm coming for you Iseult, don’t worry.” 

When Iseult woke up she found herself bound up in a cave with chains around her wrists. The cave was dark and humid, so dark and humid that she could barely see the stoney walls. The only thing on her mind was how close she had been on finding Uthred. Determined that she could get out of the chains she tried to stand up but was quickly stopped as her ankles were chained as well. There was nothing she could do, she was too weak from the wound on the back of her head.  

“I have to get out of here”, was all I could think about, but my head was hurting badly. With both my hands and feet chained I could barely move. How long have I been asleep? Where am I? I tried to focus all the energy I had to call out to the spirits, ask them for help but there was something blocking my magic, it was as if my connection to them had disappeared.

“What is this? Why can I not sense them?!” My mind was raging, I had never felt so helpless. Tears began to pour out of my eyes as I began to understand that I did not fulfill my destiny on finding Uhtred. My only destiny in life I had failed. 

I sat in the darkness for what felt like hours, alone with my thoughts. Out of nowhere I felt something. It was my stone I had received from Gytha before I traveled out on my mission. I felt its energy. It was so strong and shone with the most radiant glow I had ever seen. Astonished by its luminance I heard something in the distance. Footsteps. They were faint, but I heard them. I feared it was the man from the village so I laid down and tried to make it seem as though I was dead. Maybe then he would take off my chains?  

“Is there someone in here?”

A man, but not the man from the village.

“Hello?” 

The voice seemed concerned, but I did not dare to make a sound. He came closer, I continued to lay still. His presence seemed familiar, I had felt it before. 

Gytha began her journey as soon as she had packed all that she needed. She headed south since that was where her vision drew her. 

Iseult was in danger and I could not quit for anything. It would be a long journey, so I packed as much food as I could carry and began walking, only relying on the vision and the spirits. Village after village, day after day, I only stopped when my feet could not carry me for a step more. Iseult had been gone for months and it scared me to think how far she might have traveled during that time. My uncertainty grew bigger each day and I began to worry whether I would be able to reach her in time. The only thing to do now is to have faith, and that I had.

One evening as I was about to lay down to sleep a strong feeling rushed over me. The stones! In all of my worry I had forgotten about the stones I had given both Uhtred and Iseult. The stones were connected and would only give off this much energy if they were close together.

“Has she found my son?” I asked the spirits in desperation.  Relief washed over my body. It was not a clear answer but it gave me more determination to reach my destination. 

Iseult wondered about the presence of the unknown man, why did it feel so familiar? It was as though she had met him before. Then she realized.

“Uhtred? Is that you?”. My voice was weak. 

“How do you know my name?” He sounded shocked. 

“Who are you?” 

“My name is Iseult, Gytha sent me to find you”. 

“Why does she want to find me? She left when I was a child.” 

“She never left you, she lost you when the Danes attacked many years ago.” 

“Lost me? What are you talking about?” 

“Gytha has been looking for you ever since. I know it sounds surreal but she is indeed waiting for you”

I could sense that he was struggling to trust me, to gain his trust I showed him the black tourmaline hanging on my neck. Just like I thought, it began to shine and so did his necklace.

“Our stones are connected, they will lead us to her” I told him. 

He grabbed his dagger immediately and hit the chains that were holding me captive. 

As I was freed the spirits came back. 

“Tell Gytha I found him!” I demanded the spirits and then we used the stones to find our way back to Gytha. 

Gytha was still walking when suddenly an internal voice spoke to her.

“Iseult has found him. They are on their way to you.” 

As the voice disappeared Gythas heart felt heavy with joy. This could only mean one thing! Her magic had never felt stronger and their location was a clear image in her mind.

I traveled for three more days before reaching a beautiful river. My journey had been tiresome, but I had not rested since I received the sign of my son. Day and night I had been walking, barely stopping for rest or nourishment. Once I reached this river I sat down for some rest. As I grabbed a handful of water to drink from the river I stopped midway hearing faint voices in the distance. As I looked up I saw him. 

“My son!”

To Be Continued…

[mountkennedie]

Nostalgia

Wolfstar x reader (parental)

Summary: you wake up alternative and your dad's lose their minds

*Readers appearance isn't specified*

Warnings: none

_______________________________________

There was a knock on your door, and then silence before your door was opened. A weight sat at the foot of your bed and softly nudged you. Rolling over to see what it was you saw your dad waking you up.

"Good morning sunshine," Remus said.

"Morning," you responded.

"Come down in a few minutes for breakfast, Okay?"

"Okay." He reached for your hand, gave it a small squeeze and left.

When you got up, you went to your closet first. Grabbing a black Joan Jett shirt, and a long-ish black skirt. Some fishnets really set it off, you cut them and pulled them on your arms. You were missing something in this ensemble.. jewelry! You grabbed a black choker you didn't usually wear and some chains and had some fun. After nearly choked yourself out, you got the choker right. 2 chains around your neck, and one you attached to your skirt. Looking in the mirror you were- suprised. But a happy suprised, it felt right the way you were dressed.

You felt a sudden wave of fear the second you reached the stairs. You will have to be seen. You didn't know why this frightend you so much. Your dad's had to be the most accepting people.

Taking one big deep breath in you walked down the stairs. Reaching the bottom you approached the kitchen and entered. Sirius was in there at the moment, drinking coffee at the table.

"Good Morni- REMUS YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!" His voice echoed through the house.

Before you could say anything Remus responded,"What could possibly be scream-around-the-house serious?!"

"Me! And are child moony! GET IN HE-" Remus entered.

"What is all this fuss about?" He looked over at you. "Oh Hi Y/n," you've never seen the man fo such a double take. "Well you look... different."

You were about to run back upstairs when you caught the excited smile grow on your dad's faces. "Is- is this okay?"

"Of course it's okay! Why would it not be!" Sirius exclaimed. "Sorry for making you feel like it's not but trust me. This- this is-" he cut himself of to look at his husband.

"What this oaf," Remus started playfully," is trying to say is, you're just like us honey."

"My genes! I swear it!" Sirius butted in.

"Oh hush I was the one with the Doc Martens."

"But did you have a leather jacket? Oh right, no!" Their banter was always so enjoyable to watch.

"Anyways," Remus put a hand up to silence his husband but with a smile. "When did this happen?" Remus walked over to lover and sat down with some tea in hand.

You toyed with one of the chains dangling from your neck. "Um.. I don't know. I just woke up and felt like it."

"Reasonable, your father over here," Sirius gestured to Remus," woke up one Saturday and practically begged me and James to take him to get some piercings in hogsmeade. You remember that?"

"I don't want too. Come sit, love." Remus pulled a chair out next to him. "Those things got so infected, it was obvious on ear was bigger than the other. Madam Pompey nearly had to take the left side of my head off!" You and Sirius laughed at his exaggeration.

"And you were ever do whiney about it too!" Sirius said.

Remus scoffed," I was not! You if I remember, so desperately wanted a piercing too! Oh but poor Sirius had detention yet again."

Sirius mouthed,' whiney!' To you.

"Just drink your tea," he said to Sirius, and under his breath he said," wasn't that whiney."

"You were." Remus didn't respond only squinted his eyes and grinned in your direction and finished his tea.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e34: for whom the bell tolls

oh god it's less than 4 hours — ~3h30m accounting for intro, ads, & recap

the fuckin' NordVPN ads are getting lore recaps now??

I mute these because my secondhand embarrassment goes off the charts but just watching it is enough of an experience I feel like

I..... hm. I'm definitely feeling some kind of way about what, if anything, the Bells Hells merch releases say about who's going to survive this episode.

//

WHO'S IT GONNA BE

ooooo everyone's at the table

"Fresh Cut Grass. In this pure, endless void of all color, you feel the psychic pulse opens a flood of memories... older memories. An endless cloudscape, a skyline of lavender spires, prismatic cobblestone streets, thousands of metallic beings cheering, celebrating. A dark room, a man you fear of short gray and blonde hair shouting, none of this imagery makes sound — but you know there's anger in his heart, the intent, the defiance... a kindly, older noblewoman. You like this woman. You grant her understanding — she smiles. She frowns. She is gone."

"Chetney. Within the endless light, you feel your very soul pried open, memories spilling forth, gentler times... Diana and her laugh, Freudel and her patience... within your belly, a hunger stirs. An itch hits your skin. An iron smell fills your nose, a howl pierces your ears, you look up to the full flowing red moon of Ruidus above you, from its ruddy light streaks a single beam of pure crimson light that envelops you. You let it wash away the sadness and you give in to the beast... it sees you now, and it's found common ground."

"Ashton. Enveloped in shadowless infinity, too bright to blink, you're a child. You were worried as others rush to finish something, you do not hear your elven father as he shouts orders excitedly. Your mother kisses your head, points ahead as the many people take their places around the vibrant glowing gateway. Your father places leather mask and headdress on his face... it begins."

"Laudna. Here beyond the edge of death, the light envelops you. You remember, soundlessly, the lush forests of the Parchwood, you remember the warmth of the fire under the hearth... dinner. An impossibly long, decadent table. Watchful guards, the dark lord and lady speaking wordlessly, the dread, her gaze meets yours. A gaze that never stops. You see her at the edge of your vision, always, her shape creeps beyond every blink and her words linger with her own. You fear you may lose yourself. Are you yourself? Or just her, incubating? I am of his blood. I will endure. My will is unrelenting. You are my vessel in life, unlife, and beyond. I will endure."

"Imogen. Your entire body and spirit shakes into energy, a cosmic mass of vibration and power. You feel your ody burn, unstable, wanting to explode, you wince and hold yourself with all your might. You're walking, toppling over a rock, a hand catches your clumsy form. You cry loudly, silently, as your eyes meet hers, her lavender hair tied up over her ears. Her smile calms your tears. She speaks to you, wordlessly, in your mind you know everything is alright. She looks concerned, her face snaps away into the distance, an intensity. You open your eyes and there in this vacant space, crackling before you, you see Otohan, staring back. Her body crackling with the same type of energy as yours. You are a true predator. A gift in their image. Few can be as strong as we can. To deny your nature is to be consumed by it. To embrace it is to master your own fate. I am proud of you. The voice of Liliana echoes in your mind — run, Imogen. Run."

"The bell tolls, and looms soon enough. Come, and create something beautiful with us. [I reach out and try to blast her.] She blinks away into the light darkness, and the white blinks out. The void envelops you. You hear the sound of a thousand, ten thousand stones and bricks hitting the ground. The wind hits your face, the sand as you come down to your feet. Looking around you, you stand in the streets of Bassuras once more. In the vicinity, where a number of buildings stood, most of them are gone. There is a circle of earth pushed away. And in that moment, your companions appear where they were, as they were."

ASJHGDKJSHDGFSKJLFJDLSKGH

MATTHEW MERCER

Natural 1 death saving throw on the Ruidus die.

That's it. Someone's dead. They don't have enough spell slots.

"I imagine it would be... confusion. Flashes of all the powerful women in her life. Imogen. Fearne. Her mother. Delilah."

"As the darkness carries you to whatever threshold lies beyond, as the dark curtain begins to fold in, you feel her arms wrap around you as Delilah embraces you from behind. Worry not, child. Death is but a waiting game."

Okay. FCG is getting Fearne up. Thank fucking god. We have a chance here.

The first two rolls of the episode were a 1 on a death save and then a 20 on a perception check. If that doesn't embody this entire sequence—

Imogen has the gnarlrock. She has the gnarlrock and Delilah is still in there. I swear to god if this is some kind of repeat of Laerryn gifting a spell slot to Quay—

Thank you, Travis, for the mental image of a revivify cockring.

oh my FUCKING god

FCG rolls a 7 + 3 WIS against a DC of 10.

She felt herself being pulled by the Unseelie who "were following [her] through mirror after mirror." Behind her, she sees a "dull green sliver of a moon, a blackened hills cape of tangled jungle and thorns, brambles and eyes, so many wicked hungry eyes waiting for you. And behind those eyes, darkness. Uncertainty. Cold oblivion." And Fearne's up.

"Can you call Jiana Hexum?" "Fuck Jiana Hexum!" "Call her, tell her I'll do anything. Tell her whatever she needs."

Liam just fuckin' chugging the rest of his coffee is such a mood

GNARLROCK TIME LET'S GO

"I know you're there you bitch, I know you still want her." The rock is on Laudna's chest.

Fearne doesn't have a diamond, but Ashton does. 18 seconds remain.

I hate this. I hate it. I HATE it. But it's so good.

12 seconds remain.

Sending to Delilah: "You better bring her back. I know you want to be in this world, and she's your only way here. Get your ass down here and bring her back!" Poor thing. I would if I could. But I ask you to bring her back too — for both of us.

The coin has spoken. (I'm not convinced that Fearne didn't lie about the coin flip.)

Fearne rolls a 13 + 4 against a DC of 10.

"Orym. The tension has passed, and a calm peace comes over you. There's this shadow, this looming darkness of regret and anxiety... it gives way to the sounds of the soft breeze of Zephrah. You feel a presence you've missed for a bit. As you turn from the shadow, amongst the various cherry blossom branches and the wind that blows in this soft dreamscape before you, you see Will. Just looking at you. And you want nothing more than to stay here. And in that moment in relinquishing to whatever the next life may be, you hear Fearne's words echo out from above. The soft dream begins to fade a moment and you glance up into a shaft of light. Her words call out to you, and you're torn. You look back down to Will who looks back to you, and his voice echoes, you're not done. [I really wish I could stay.] I'll still be here. [I miss you so bad.] There will be a time. I look forward to it. [Say hi to Derrig for me. Say hi to dad.] I will. He reaches out and embraces you. Like a hot spring that just envelops you, you feel the warmth and light of the connection you've missed for so long. Now, go. And he throws you up towards the light. As you drift upward, you watch the tree begin to fade, you see his face begin to fade, and you feel the sting of dust and sand against your cheek." And Orym's up.

Sprigg, the Vecna fights, Vax's mother, Scanlan, Molly, Caleb and Essek, Caleb at his parents' graves, Cad's divine intervention — nothing. But Orym got me, man. He got me.

To Joe's!

And to the break.

//

Liam: *pats Orym on the head* this halfling can fit so much survivor's guilt in him

Ohohohoho, Imahara has a secret cellar! It's a little storage space with raw materials, parts, tools, etc.

Man, the perception checks this episode have been on point.

....there's a hidden door in the basement that hasn't been opened in a very long time. Overgrown with roots.

Aaaaah. So Treshi hired Ira to create dangers in the city, which in turn was intended to spur the Quorum to hire the Paragon's Call. Ira came to him, but Treshi was getting pressure from Otohan to establish the Call in Jrusar.

23 intimidation from Orym!

Treshi was doing it to rise in the ranks of Jrusar's nobility structure, and if he did all the shipments successfully, Otohan would clear his name in Jrusar. The shipments were coming from Wildemount by way of the Menagerie Coast to the Osmit Sea to Jrusar, where Treshi took charge of getting them to Bassuras. So that shipment wasn't going to Jrusar — it had come from Jrusar, and was going to an external site.

Hexum held on to the Cerberus Assembly crates and the crates with the dunamis potions until it was time to ship them to Bassuras, to disrupt the chain and make it harder to trace.

It began slowly "years ago" and had been ramping up in recent years.

The secret door appears to be locked, but there's no overt nob, just a pull handle. Chet opens it with a 26, and there's a tunnel beyond that smells musty, like minerals. It reminds Chetney of the part in the Deathwish Run when they went into a cavern.

The crates labeled "Treshi" contain a whole bunch of dunamis potions.

The vials are roughly the same size and shape of the things inside Otohan's backpack. So these things are most likely advanced forms of the potions of possibility.

I love the fact that they've just..... collectively forgotten that Fearne has proficiency with thieves' tools.

.........oh. Matt's reaction to FCG mentioning that Percy and Vex might be able to bring Laudna back makes me absolutely certain that neither of them would hesitate for a moment to kill Laudna if they knew about Delilah. Especially when compared to his reaction to Orym mentioning Keyleth.

Hm. So Orym definitely knows that Keyleth can bring people back, and that it's not super expensive to her (500gp and a 5th level slot). Which begs the question— why wouldn't he ask her to bring Will back? Did something happen to Will that made that impossible, like with Evandrin?

Oh. Or maybe she did try and the ritual failed. The ritual that Orym would've been a primary contributor to. And that'd just add more grief and guilt.

Chetney literally crafting new thieves' tools out of wood scraps instead of disabling the trap is so on-brand

The box is opening

It's refined residuum. A precisely calculated and exact amount of refined residuum.

Keyleth has been working with Percy and Vex to make sure that residuum doesn't fall into the wrong hands, so the fact that it's here is very concerning to Orym. He also knows that it's used in the amplification of certain forms of arcana.

So, what? Is Otohan using this to create very specifically sized weavelenses? To amplify the effects of the potions of possibility? Or is this something like what Delilah was doing with Ioun's temples, trying to amplify a summoning ritual? And where the fuck is the Cerberus Assembly getting it from?

Okay, somebody remind me to come back to this later — but this residuum is an absolutely perfect allegory for the Bells Hells as a party, especially the way Matt described it.

Chetney did hard drugs in Hupperduke, canon

Holy fuck, another nat 20 perception check! Chet is on fire with these!

Identify on the gray liquid: "This is a potion of possibility. When you drink this potion, you gain two fragments of possibility, each of which looks like a tiny grey mote of energy that follows you around a foot away from you. Each fragment lasts for 8 hours or until used. [Mechanics are the same as the Fortune's Favor spell.]"

Sooooo potions of possibility + residuum = whatever Otohan had going on? Yeah?

The crate they got has 6 more potions, so they have a total of 8.

FCG has never encountered dunamancy before — the vials don't fit into any established school of magic, it sort of sits and drifts outside the standard schools.

Oooooh. Imogen didn't have a dream about Laudna walking into the storm. And she "feels a buzz lingering that doesn't quite subside, like the faintest of butterflies that continues to turn in your stomach." Bro. Matt remotely added a feat to her D&D Beyond profile.

Now that is super interesting. That means that every single one of these people has a chance to gain additional feats through "fateful moments" (which Matt details in EGtW) that happen during the course of the campaign. That's super fucking cool. I bet it's a homebrew, because she already has telekinetic and telepathic wouldn't make sense (she already gets very similar abilities from her class), but also, mystic conflux or spell driver could be really cool.

Oh my god that's amazing, FCG built a toolbox for Chetney and Sam actually bought (/made?) one to give to Travis adkjfhsglsdjl

In that memory, Ashton's father's vestments for whatever ritual that was is exactly the same as the Hishari armor they found in the Twilight Mirror Museum. The headpiece looks slightly damaged.

"shari" is a suffix with roots in a word pertaining to general elementalism. The root could pre-date the Calamity, or it could be derived from the Gau Drashari name.

In Zephrah, the Hishari village is used as a tale to spook people from toying with the elements when they don't know what they're doing. It was a village of people who delved into things that they didn't understand and couldn't control. "What the Hishari village did was reckless, and they paid for it." Ashton was too young to remember what happened on that day, but they watched "everything go, everything rip apart... wind and light and people flinging through the air, cracking, breaking. I woke up wandering the dead lands outside the city [Bassuras], and they put me in the Greymoore home."

Which means that the Hishari village was somewhere in the Hellcatch Valley close to Bassuras — e.g. there is potentially a massive elemental rift in the Hellcatch, where a leyline nexus may be moving, and where the Paragon's Call might be shipping construction materials, residuum, and dunamis potions to.

"Power is power. What you do with it is up to you. We're gonna leave, we're gonna lick our wounds, but you've got us. Let's just get our of here and help her."

Somebody get FCG a component pouch please

"You focus on her body, her corpse, whatever earthly connection remains with the absconded spirit. You complete the ritual and there's a flash of orange light around her, and none of you pick it up, but you do: a weird sense that the spell definitely headed something off at the pass, and now she rests for the next 10 days."

o h n o.

I can't tell if that means her body would decompose faster than normal to a point where raise dead wouldn't work due to her being a Hollow One, or if Delilah was slowly trying to take over her body slowly. Either way, gives a completely different meaning to "death is a waiting game."

That thing is definitely going to be attached to the front of the flask/can next week

[walkerwords]

"Share Your Burden" Daryl Dixon & Daughter!Reader

Request From Anonymous: "Your writing is the best! You probably have a lot of requests, but if you wouldn't mind I'd like to request some more dad Daryl fics where he basically adopts the reader. Those are just always so good. Not sure I have a specific story in mind, just more dad Daryl and Daughter reader in general please. You're the best! 💖"

Summary: The reader is like a daughter to Daryl. When she sees him taken by the saviors, she will get him back and keep him safe even if it means losing some of her humanity.

Word Count: 4933

Warning: Violence, Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Carry You" by Fleurie and Ruelle

Note: Figured considering our show is coming back this month, I should get some stories in, huh? There are parts in this that are lightly inspired by Ellie in TLOU2.

--------

It had taken every ounce of strength not to move as you watched the man known as Negan brutally murder two members of your family.

Abraham’s blood was ingrained into your mind and Maggie’s screams echoed through your skull like bats in a cave. You wanted to scream, cry, and launch yourself at your new enemy to save those who you loved but you remained in the shadows of the tree you had climbed and waited. The group known as the Saviors milled around the clearing as Negan hauled your leader into the RV and drove off.

From your vantage point, you could see Daryl fading as he stared at the bodies of his brothers. Blood was dripping down his arm from the gunshot wound he had sustained from the blonde man above him. Looking at the way the sneering man held Daryl’s bow made you so angry it was hard not to drop down and plunge a blade into his pale neck.

Carl was with Michonne, trying not to look anywhere but the enemies that surrounded them. Carl was your age and he was also the person who you trusted the most to keep it together in situations such as this. You pulled your strength from your friend’s resolve and continued to wait.

Maggie was getting worse and that was why you had ventured out of Alexandria in the first place. Spencer had spotted you heading for the gate when he had tried to stop you. Ignoring him as always, you pushed past him and began the trek to Hilltop. It was on that journey that you came across the first roadblock and so you followed it.

You had never imagined that it would have led to the gruesome scene below you. Your knuckles strained around the handles of your knives, a pair that Daryl had given to you himself when you had settled at the prison. It was only after Terminus that he began to properly train you to use them. Right then, they had never felt more useless.

Daryl was your protector and he was the closest thing you had to a father. He had found you running from Walkers when the group was settled on the Greene farm. You had been alone for weeks and from then on, it was the two of you.

Daryl had been the one to protect you from Shane’s scrutiny, the piercing gaze of the Governor, and the cannibals of Terminus. In turn, you became his shadow, having his back wherever he went, always ready to defend him while also learning everything you could. Now, you felt as powerless as he looked. It had been a long while since the group had been this broken-looking.

It was heartbreaking.

It wasn’t long before Negan returned with Rick and after almost making your leader cut his own son’s hand off. Negan ordered his men to leave not without making demands of your family and hauling Daryl along with him.

Staring after the caravan of murderers, you weighed what you were going to do next. A weight was heavy in your pack’s front packet and while you knew it was risky, a plan began to form. One that would either get you or Daryl killed or perhaps even both. Still, you had to try.

Dropping to the forest floor, you took one last look at your people through the trees before taking off in the opposite direction and towards the main road, pushing your legs as fast as they would go.

“Hold on, Daryl,” you whispered in between haggard breaths, “I’ll be there soon."

-----------

Daryl was in the back of the truck trying not to grimace every time the vehicle rolled over an uneven section of road.

Everything hurt and nothing felt right. He felt sick and above everything, he felt guilty.

The shock was still coursing through his veins as he heard Negan laughing in the cab upfront but he tried to tune it out as he thought of Glenn. It was instinct to go after Negan. Daryl hadn’t even thought about the repercussions that might happen as he got to his feet and charged the larger man.

It hadn’t occurred to Daryl to take a breath and think about what would happen next. They had never faced a menace like Negan before. Daryl thought he had seen the last of the bloodshed when they had escaped Terminus. At least, escaped the violence for a while before it caught back up to them again.

It wasn’t long till Daryl’s pain began to increase as the adrenaline wore off. Dwight was sitting across from him, holding his crossbow and Daryl wanted to strangle the man.

He had helped Dwight with Sherry and Tina. He had tried to keep Tina alive when he returned the insulin. Daryl couldn’t help but be enraged while looking at him, but he understood the betrayal in a way. He knew what people became in the new world and according to Dwight, Negan was the lesser evil of trying to survive on his own.

Daryl then only wondered what happened to Sherry.

They were going down another road as Daryl leaned to the left as the truck turned sharply. He blinked away the sudden twinge in his shoulder and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning in discomfort. He wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction.

Suddenly, from the front of the cab, Negan shouted, causing Dwight to jump in his seat. “Shit!” Negan swore and then there was a flash of light, a loud bang, and then they were airborne. Daryl had barely a second to brace his hands on the roof of the truck before it slammed into the road, the metal exterior shredding sparks along the neglected asphalt.

Smoke and dust filled the air as Daryl tried to get his bearings. He could hear the muffled shouts of Negan and his men followed by a few gunshots but his ears were still ringing.

Across from him, Dwight was groaning in pain as blood dripped from his brow. His hands had let go of the bow and in a sudden surge of energy, Daryl dove for his loaded weapon.

Clutching his hands around the crossbow, Daryl scrambled for the back door, trying to get to his feet. A hand then circled around his ankle as Dwight realized what was happening. Turning around, Daryl blindly fired a bolt and it struck Dwight in the shoulder, mirroring Daryl’s own wound for good measure.

Dwight went down in pain and Daryl continued to move. As he fumbled for the door that was hanging half open due to the crash, he could hear yells of pain out in the warm air followed by the sound of someone choking as if they were drowning. Even half-aware of what was going on, Daryl could recognize the sound of someone choking on their own blood.

Daryl slammed his good shoulder against the broken door with a frustrated yell and finally felt the sun on his face. “Don’t kill her!” Daryl heard Negan scream. “Jesus fucking Christ, Arat!” Daryl tried to get back on his feet but everything was too bright and he was still trying to figure out what had happened and who Negan was talking about.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand around his arm that he seemed to snap back into his body. Aware that he hadn’t reloaded a new bolt into his bow, he swung his arm, trying to clip his assailant in the head with the bow. “Fuck! Daryl!” a familiar voice exclaimed to his right. The arm around him tightened as Daryl’s eyes finally focused on the person at his side.

“(Y/N)?” he breathed as he took in your face that was covered in blood and a wild look echoed from your eyes.

“We have to move,” you said earnestly. “Now!” Not questioning your demands, Daryl nodded and allowed you to take his bow as you grabbed for it. Slinging the bow onto your back, you grabbed the lighter Daryl had given you and he watched as you took a breath, no doubt sending some kind of prayer to the universe before you threw it into a pool of gasoline, igniting it and sending Saviors diving for cover.

Bullets flew by you as you hauled Daryl to the woods. “Don’t fucking shoot her! She’s a goddamn kid!” Negan screamed at his men.

Daryl leaned heavily on you as you dragged him towards the treeline. He didn’t hear much of what you said after that as his feet blindly followed you. “Negan,” Daryl choked out, trying to get you to understand.

“Leave him,” you said, trying to carry both of your weights. “Come on, Daryl, I can’t carry us both,” you pleaded, trying to get his mind to catch up with his body. It took another minute or so before the ringing subsided in his ears and the world got back into focus. Taking a few deep breaths, he got back into his normal gait and began speeding up his steps as he followed you through the woods.

You kept the crossbow on your back but he was soon able to walk on his own. “What did ya do?” Daryl asked as you stumbled down an embankment and carefully crossed a stream.

“What I had to to get you away from them,” you said as you helped him over the slippery rocks. “We can talk about this later. Right now, I need you to keep moving. There’s a town just through these trees, we can hide there for the night.”

“They’ll find us, (Y/N),” Daryl said as he pressed his hand against the bullet wound that was bleeding again. You looked at him, your eyes still wide from the fight.

“Then I’ll handle it,” you said. “It's my turn to keep you safe.”

-----------

The heat was horrid by the time you and Daryl arrived in the abandoned town.

Even with Daryl still in pain, you made the two of you circle back three times in order to cover your tracks. However, eventually, you knew he couldn’t take more before he finally keeled over. Keeping the crossbow loaded, you moved silently through the back alleys of the small town, looking for both Saviors and Walkers alike.

After the quarry horde had been redirected, the larger groups of the dead had been far and few between but that didn’t mean Walkers were gone altogether. Silently, you took down four Walkers before you found the destination you had in mind.

The old town library was something you and Sasha had found when you had accompanied her on a hunt one day. The latches on the doors still worked and it had enough blindspots inside to hide from the Living and the Dead.

You stood watch as Daryl wrestled with the doors. The Southern heat warped the frames a bit but eventually, Daryl was able to push one open and slip inside. You followed quickly and shut it behind you. Placing down the bow, you shoved a fallen bookcase in front of the double doors before collapsing against it for a second.

“Okay, this should hold,” you said with another breath. Daryl was swaying on his feet when you looked back at him. “Come on,” you said, picking up the bow and leading him into the main area of the library.

For such a small town, the library was a decent size. You figured that it was probably the main community hub for the neighborhood. It made its untouched books and abandoned keycards that much more sorrowful. Depositing Daryl on one of the lumpy couches, you grabbed your flashlight from your pack and clicked it on.

“I’m going to go make sure there’s no Dead in here,” you said. “Stay here and I’ll be back to take a look at that shoulder.”

“(Y/N),” Daryl said, grabbing your hand before you could move.

“I’ll be fine,” you promised. Daryl seemed to be wary but he was also exhausted so he relented and let go. You gave him your canteen, ordered him to drink, and then you began your search.

The dried blood on your skin was driving you crazy as it itched with every second. When you had set out after the Saviors, clutching the grenade you had stolen from Spencer’s stash a few days before, it hadn’t occurred to you that there would be a before and an after.

Before you managed to get to Daryl and after you got him.

Now, it was all about survival. You knew what you had done. Negan was pissed and if you knew anything about his temper solely based on the clearing, then you knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

You feared for your family back in Alexandria. If he wanted to, Negan could go and terrorize your family, perhaps kill more of them. None of that had been on your mind when you began your rescue operation. You weren’t thinking about anyone but Daryl. You had to save him and you were willing to risk your life. Though, now, you realized it wasn’t just your life you were risking.

Shaking the thoughts out of your mind, you finished your rounds through the two stories of the library. You were surprised to only find two Walkers who were less than “alive”. Both were barely hanging on and you figured one of them had been the librarian at some point. You took them both out to end their suffering and then headed back to Daryl.

Daryl was still awake when you joined him on the couch and helped him out of his shirt. The gunshot wound was getting worse and you could tell he was trying to put on a brave face for you. “You don’t have to do that, you know?” you said as you dug through your bag for the alcohol and bandages you always had with you.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Act as if nothing is hurting,” you said, pouring some of the alcohol on a rag. Not giving him a warning, you pressed it against his shoulder and Daryl swore as it burned the wound. “See,” you said with a smirk.

“Ya shouldn’t have done it,” Daryl said after a second.

“If I hadn’t, then you would be dead or worse,” you said. “I wasn’t going to let Negan take anyone else from me. Not after Glenn and Abraham.”

“You saw,” Daryl said and it wasn’t a question. You began cleaning the excess blood off before finding your suturing kit.

“I was in a tree,” you whispered, threading the needle, suddenly very grateful for the lessons Herschel had given you. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“Maybe he should have,” Daryl said and your hands froze. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you could see the emotions that were raging in him.

“Daryl…”

“He said not to move, kid,” Daryl said. “I lost it after he killed Abraham. If I hadn’t… Glenn would still be alive.”

“You don’t know that. We slaughtered that outpost, hell, I’m surprised he didn’t take more people out. I know you and the others think I’m just some kid but I notice more than you think and I have learned to read people. Negan is… I don’t think he’s some kind of deranged maniac but he’s ruthless and he’s not going to stop until he feels as if he has all the power again. At least I can see that he’s not willing to kill kids. Guess that means Carl and I are gonna be on the front lines this time,” you finished with an attempt at humor.

“Not funny,” he said.

“Daryl, you and I both know that this isn’t going to end without a fight.”

“You ain’t fighting,” Daryl said sternly. You ignored him and began stitching up his wound, careful not to pull too much.

“Considering the way Rick was looking at Negan before I left, it doesn’t look like he had much fight left in him. Someone has to do it.”

“Rick has a lot of pressure on his shoulders,” Daryl defended but you just shook your head.

“I watched him tear a man’s throat out with his teeth, Daryl,” you said. “This was different. I warned you about his pride and how it was going to be his downfall. He just needs to be reminded of the leader he is.”

“Since when are ya so mature?”

“Since I watched the people I love get killed again and again,” you said as you tied off the last stitch.

“You blame Rick,” Daryl said.

“I blame all of us,” you said, picking up the clean bandages. “We believed that moron at Hilltop… We never should have gone after the Satellite Station, Daryl. We keep doing this, getting involved in fights that aren’t ours.”

“We have to help people,” Daryl said. “It’s what we do.”

“Why? Why do we have to? Why is it our responsibility? Why can’t we just survive like everyone else?”

“Someone has to be the good guys,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he believed it.

“I’m sick of being them,” you admitted, finally sitting back.

“Ya really mean that?” Daryl asked as he shrugged his shirt back onto his shoulder. You sat there for a minute before sighing.

“No,” you whispered. “I’m just sick of the death.”

-----------

Daryl was asleep finally and you became the sole protector.

It was odd, the role reversal. So many times you had been the one hurt and cowering as Daryl protected you. Now, after seeing all the horrors you had since Terminus, your skin was stronger than stone. It was going to take a lot more than a bastard with a bat to break you.

You could hear Daryl’s soft snore from the lounge as you scanned the darkness. You stayed there, watching until the soft rumbles of a truck echoed through the night. Ducking down, you watched as a pickup truck drove slowly through the town, a spotlight scanning the empty storefronts.

"Fuck," you whispered. Glancing at the bow by your side, you made a quick decision as the truck came to a stop and three men, Saviors, jumped out.

Sneaking back towards Daryl, you left his bow, loaded, by his side. Taking one last look at him, you slipped your jacket over your shoulders and headed to the second floor. An open window welcomed you near the back exit. Being an avid climber it was easy to maneuver out onto the slanted roof and grab onto the drainage pipe to take you to the ground.

Muffled voices reached your ears as you kept to the shadows. "Spread out, kill the man, take the girl," a man said, a voice you didn't recognize.

"That girl nearly killed Negan," another said.

"We are Negan," the third said. "And we do what he orders. Saviors don't kill kids. Find her." While it was a bold statement, you knew it was false. Hilltop had said, a boy was murdered. None of that fit.

Trying not to overanalyze anything, you focused on the task at hand. Picking up a large rock, you threw it as far as you could. The sound of breaking glass shattered the air and a set of boots took off in that direction.

As the second man went West, you focused on the solo scout who headed towards the abandoned police station. As you got closer, groans reached your ears. Spotting the Walker first, you snuck up behind it and slit its throat with a single slice. The gargling of Dead blood and empty lungs perforated your surroundings but it was enough to call attention to the Savior.

"Ugly motherfucker," the Savior said, not yet spotting you as you stood behind it. As the Savior drew his blade to silently end the creature, you shoved the Walker forward onto the man.

Stunned by the sudden momentum, he cried out as the Walker bit into the face before it. The Savior’s scream was cut off short as the Walker found its next meal. As soon as the damage was done, you finished off both, making sure to stifle the sounds that would pull your other two targets closer. Dragging both bodies out of sight, you slipped back into the shadows.

-----------

Moving West, you avoided any other Walkers who were wandering.

Not looking to be tracked by the Walker equivalent of breadcrumbs, you made sure to stay hidden for the most part. Finally spotting your next target, you began wishing you had grabbed Carl’s gun with his silencer before you had followed after the caravan. Only armed with knives now, you had to make do.

The Savior was looking through a desolate pet shop as you snuck in through a broken window, careful not to make too much noise with the shattered glass.

Picking up a tennis ball that had been neglected, you rolled it towards the aisle the Savior was looking in. Just like a curious golden retriever, the man followed the little ball right into your path. He barely had time to shout a warning before your knife was embedded into his carotid.

His eyes were wide as blood poured onto your hand. Keeping your nerve, you twisted the knife and fully severed the artery. The man fell to his knees as you pulled the blade free. Clutching his throat, he tried to speak but no sound came. “You’re not going to find him,” you whispered as he fell back and his eyes rolled back into his head.

Quickly, you shoved your blade into his brain before grabbing his weapon. It wasn’t silenced but it would have to do if it came down to a firefight. Turning back towards the main street, you ran from the store in hopes of catching the final Savior before he sounded the alarm.

-----------

The truck was still there but its driver was nowhere to be seen.

Noticing the keys were still in the ignition, you rolled your eyes. Pocketing them, you waited in the cab, hoping the final man would return soon.

Fatigue was starting to set in as you waited and you began to think of when the last time you slept was. Before the turn, you had imagined your teen years to be full of parties and late nights studying for tests in high school. You did not envision you would be waiting in the dark of a truck, ready to get more blood on your hands.

Unlike Carl, it hadn’t been at the prison when you first killed someone. It had been before you had even met Daryl. Before you wandered onto the Greene farm and Daryl and Carol had found you, you had been traveling with your aunt and uncle when bandits had attacked you and killed both before turning their sights on you. Not knowing how to use a gun, only ever seeing your uncle use it and of course, in films, you blindly fired and killed one and then the other. The third, who was just a teenager, had runoff.

After that, you felt ashamed at how you didn’t feel bad about doing it. Shane had explained that it was okay because you did it out of self-defense and Daryl and Maggie had agreed.

Now, as fresh blood joined the flaking blood on your hands, you tried to rationalize that what you were doing now was in defense of another. If the Saviors got Daryl back or killed him, you would not have been able to handle it.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself. “Handle this and get back to Daryl. He needs you.”

It didn’t take long for the man to return. The man was speaking into his radio and it had never occurred to you to take the other walkies off the other bodies. However, now you knew you weren’t leaving without this one. If Rick wanted to fight and you were hoping that he was, then having a Savior’s radio, attuned to Negan’s base of operations would be a great start to gather intel.

Angling yourself in the front seat, you waited for him to open the door. Steadying your hand, you took a deep breath in, leveled the stolen gun, and just as the driver’s side door pulled open and the overhead light clicked on, you fired one bullet, hitting the man in the head.

Surprised by your own accuracy, you shuffled out of the cab, grabbed the radio, and shoved the body underneath the car. You waited then, for either more Walkers or the cavalry but when none came, you ran back to the library, hoping the shot didn’t wake Daryl. You weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

-----------

“Are ya really that reckless?” Daryl said as soon as you snuck back into the library.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you said, nonchalantly.

“Bullshit, I can practically smell all the blood on you,” he said, folding his arms. His bow was still by his side and after the small amount of rest, he was clearly not in the mood for your aloofness.

“I told you I would protect you,” you said as you moved to your pack and grabbed the discarded canteen, and poured some water on your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the sick smell of iron. "Now, we need to figure out what to do," you said.

"We need to get home," he argued.

"We're going to Hilltop," you said. "They'll be looking for you at Alexandria and you know it."

"Both of us," he pointed out with a slight glare.

"Negan doesn't scare me," you said to him.

"He should."

"We've seen worse," you countered.

"You're too young for all this shit," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"So you've said before," you reminded him.

"(Y/N)..."

"If you're about to say that I need to distance myself from you. You'd be a moron. I'm not leaving you. If you don’t like it, any of it, then you never should have taught me to fight.”

“That’s right, I taught you to fight, not to kill,” he argued. Throwing the water bottle down, you turned on him.

“What is this about? I’ve seen you kill people. I’ve seen you do worse than taking a few people out to protect someone in our family. What is actually going on here and don’t say that it’s because you’re feeling guilty. It's more than that.”

“Ever think I don’t like seeing you like this," he gestured to your bloody clothes. "Do ya think I want ya to become someone like Negan? Ya act like taking a life ain’t that big of a deal!”

“Will you stop shouting,” you hissed, moving closer to him. “Daryl, I did what I had to. I am so sorry that you think you are the only one who is allowed to cross lines to protect us. I think you forget all the times we have had to save you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, what’s not fair is you getting mad at me for saving your life. Do you not realize how much you mean to me? I lost my parents before the turn and then my aunt and uncle and I had nobody. Nobody until you found me in that field. You are the closest thing I have to a father, Daryl and I don’t care what I have to do to make sure I don't lose another parent. I can’t handle it, okay? Please, just let me protect you for once!"

The emotions were taking you over then and it was hard to control them. “I don’t mean to cry and all that,” you said, sniffing back the tears, “but you can’t expect me to just sit back and do nothing when people keep trying to take you away from me.”

Daryl’s stern look dissipated then and it made you feel a bit worse. Wiping at the tears on your face, you turned away from him. Soon, you felt his arms around you as he pulled you into his chest just as he had earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, you were just tryin’ to help. Okay, I ain’t mad.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” you said into his chest.

“I just worry about ya,” he said. “Ya know why?” Shaking your head, he tightened his hold. “Cause I see ya as my kid, too and I would do anythin’ to keep ya safe. I guess I gotta accept you’re going to do the same." Stepping back, he wiped the tears off your cheeks. “Just no more sneaking out, alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed. "Daryl, just know you don't have to carry it all. You can share your burden."

"I thought I was the parent here," he said.

"Family works both ways."

"Yes it does," he said.

Then with a bit more of a smile, you produced the keys you had stolen from the car. “I got us a ride cause you're still stuck with me."

"You're so stubborn," he said.

"I got it from you," you said with a gesture to the street. "You're going to have to drive."

"Right, no need to almost die twice in twenty-four hours," he said and you offered him a small smile. Daryl then took your hand in his as he gathered your pack. "I ain't leavin' you. You're stuck with me, too. I got you, kid,” he said. "And thanks for comin’ to get me.” You looked up at him and nodded.

“Always.”

TAGS: @thanossexual @felicisimor @agent-laufeyson @lucillethings

[lonely-lost-soul]

Of Immortality and Nymphs

(Philza Minecraft x Reader)

Request 2: Just c!philza simping over reader!!

Requested by: Anonymous 

(Okay maybe I got a little carried away with this one...) 

~~~

     He met her for the first time when he was a young man, who barely understood the world around him. Messing with things he shouldn’t was his specialty so when he heard there used to be Nymphs in the nearby forests, he just had to find out if they were extinct or not. Phil flipped through his worn journal and tapped his quill on the paper, he wanted to document his journey to finding the supposedly mythical creature. After all, this was one of his first real adventures all by himself he wouldn’t accept any form of defeat. He popped the cork off the invisibility potion he had and downed it with one swig. Phil, now hidden, wandered into the forest of the last known location, of the last recorded Nymph. Not being visible to the creatures in the forest allowed Phil to take in the beauty of nature around him, he could get close to the animals and see them in their natural habitat. The forest was beautiful, sunlight peeking in through the leaves of the trees, it was magical. He placed his hand on the trees running his hand over the bark with a smile, Phil heard a soft twinkling in his ear, and his head shot up. Always trigger happy he put his hand on his sword, in the middle of a nearby clearing stood a beautiful woman with gorgeous (h/c) hair. Flowers and leaves seemed to be interwoven within the strands, her ears were elf-like in appearance adorned with gold piercings. Her dress flowed in the wind, it was a soft almost translucent green decorated with leaves, in her hand was a baby chick. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, it was clear she was the Nymph that the old stories were talking about, thank god for the invisibility potion. 

Pulling out his journal once more he began to sketch a picture of the elegant woman, he didn’t want to forget her face. The man looked up once more to finish up the sketch and the Nymph was gone, he frowned sadly, he did hope he could get to talk to her. 

     “What’re you drawing?” Phil snapped his notebook shut letting out a startled yelp, he turned to look at the figure beside him. The potion must’ve worn off when he wasn’t looking, however beside him was said Nymph. His jaw almost dropped open, did she have no self-preservation? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” She stepped a few steps back and he held out his arm to stop her. 

     “No! No, you’re alright!” He put his hand to his heart, “I’m Phil. and you are?” 

     “(Y/n). Are you human?” 

     “Tragically,” Phil gave her a little smile as she tilted her head curiously. “Are you a Nymph?” You looked a little hesitant, he watched as your ears twitched in an undeniably cute way. He felt himself melt a little as you gave a nod, 

     “A Meliae if you want to get specific,” you smiled fondly giving him a teasing wink. Opening his notebook again he scribbled that down next to the figure drawing of you, you sat down in front of him watching in awe, “Is that your language’s written system?” Looking back up at her curious expression Phil once again felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest. 

     “It is. You’re very clever,” He hummed and was delighted in the way you flushed up to the tips of your ears. You waved him off, 

     “I’m not that clever. When you’ve been around as long as I have you pick up on certain things,” He watched you carefully as you sat down beside him resting on your knees. Curiously Phil tilted his head,

     “How long have you been around?”

     “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” She shot back a grin on her features, oh Phil was in love. Nymphs did tend to have that effect on people, people fall hard and fast for them, but Phil didn’t care. 

     “My apologies, that was rude of me huh?”

     “Very.” She teased with a snicker, “I’ve honestly lost count at this point.” 

     “You’ve lost track? So you’re immortal then?” Phil’s entire face lit up the excitement prevalent on his features, “Tell me everything.” He pleaded, with a soft laugh you began to share your tale with the man in front of you. Phil was enamored she had lived more lifetimes than he could begin to comprehend, what he wouldn’t do to have that gift. The duo talked long into the evening and well into the next morning, Phil knew he had to head home soon. Not that he had anyone waiting for him back home, but he couldn’t stay with her forever as much as he wanted to. “When can I see you again?” He whispered taking your hands within his own, he couldn’t help but notice how soft they were for someone living in a forest. You hesitantly pressed your finger to his earring, 

     “They’ll start to glow whenever I’m near. So you can always find me,” You whispered cupping his cheek in your hand, he felt himself lean into it. “I’ll see you soon Phil,” You leaned forward pressing a tender kiss to his lips before disappearing in a flurry of flowers and leaves. Phil let out a shaky breath bringing his fingers to his lips a wild smile appearing across them. He opened his journal one last time adding ‘great kissers’ to his list of things about the Nymph of the forest. 

They met many more times after that, and with each meeting, Phil only fell more and more in love with her. He wanted to protect you and keep you safe especially after telling him that Nymphs were hunted for their tears that give immortality but now without the expense of the Nymph. Yet even with his pleading, you wouldn’t leave the forest you called home. You told him maybe one day you could, but you were the only Nymph protecting the forest and you had to stay to protect your home. Ever the gentleman Phil would drop the conversation and steer it into another direction said direction ended with a lot of kissing. 

As the years flew by Phil found himself growing older and you remaining the same and as beautiful as ever, he wanted to be immortal with you. He never wanted to lose you, so he made a deal with the God of undying, sacrificing his three lives for one immortal life so he could remain by your side forever. He’d also have to give up part of his humanity, he was bestowed giant black crow-like wings. But he’d do anything so long as he got to be by your side for the rest of eternity. Phil didn’t want to tell you at first, afraid you’d be mad but it was hard to hide giant black wings and the man could never stay far away from you. When he finally saw you again you knew what went down practically immediately. Surprisingly you took it much better than he originally thought, you seemed to flattered beyond belief but also pissed as hell. Desperately you tried to explain to him that immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse, seeing the world change around you while you stay young forever wasn’t as fun as it sounded. The man scoffed, shooting back a comment of his own about how he didn’t want to imagine a world without you by his side. You didn’t deserve to lose someone you loved just because they were mortal and he stood by that.

He watched your face scrunch up, cheeks turning pink at his sentiment. Mostly because you were melting around his words and he knew it too by the smirk evident on his features. Phil locked eyes with you and smiled endearingly, 

     “I love you.” 

     “I’m pregnant.” 

     “Fucking what-” He choked on his spit any argument that started before fizzled out the minute you had told you said those two words to him. He felt his features morphed in surprise before wrapping you in a tight suffocating hug. That only solidified his choices, he made the right decision, he needed to stay by you and your child’s side so long as the universe allowed him to. 

However, things weren’t all peaches and rainbows as the world changed to a dark and dismal place once more. Forests were being burned and destroyed and humans once again discovered the existence of Nymphs and wanted to hunt them down for sport. Things were dangerous, way too dangerous for you and the newborn son you shared with Phil. Reluctantly you and Phil came to a decision, to protect your baby you needed to leave, it was the only way to keep them safe. You held the baby close to your chest, tears swelling in your eyes as Phil kissed your cheeks trying to shush you softly. “It’s alright…” His voice was gentle, his big hand caressing the boy’s chocolate brown curls. 

     “It’s not alright. Phil...I don’t wanna leave you or Wilbur.” Your voice quivered and Phil’s heart shattered in pieces, “But his safety comes first.” You brought the baby up to your lips and kissed his forehead, he giggled sweetly trying to squish his mother’s cheeks. You laughed as he did so, “My sweet, lovely boy. I’ll have to leave you for a while, I don’t want to but you need to be kept safe. I…” Phil frowned watching as you choked up once more, “I’m not safe.” Even through your tears, Phil thought you were beautiful, “You can’t tell him about me…” 

     “(Y/n) I can’t- That’s just not fair-” You shushed him with a kiss to his lips, passing Wilbur off to him. 

     “If he’s anything like his father he’ll lose his mind searching for his mother. He needs to live his life.” You reached up holding Phil’s chin on your pointer finger, “He has to live life to its fullest, Nothing can hold him back. It has to stay this way until I can come back. Which I will...hopefully it won’t be too long.” You smiled up at him and Phil took in a shaky breath, 

     “What if I ruin him.” His voice was painfully tight holding his grip on Wilbur tightening as well, it made the baby squirm. You shushed him softly, pressing a kiss to his lips, his scruff tickling your chin. To him the kisses always felt electric, never devoid of passion and adoration, he leaned forward to chase those addicting lips as you pulled away. 

     “You won’t ruin him, you’re the most gentle and kind man I’ve ever met. You took care of me all these years, you’ll be amazing for Wilby.” Phil watched as you kissed Wilbur one last time before stepping away with a shaky breath. “Just be as good to him as you are to me,” You both heard the crunch of leaves, it caused you to jump a little looking around the forest frantically. 

     “Go. We’ll be fine. Just stay safe and come back to us okay?” You could only nod at him before disappearing in a gust of leaves and flowers. Phil felt his heartache and he jolted as Wilbur began to cry seemingly already missing the presence of his mother. “Oh Wilbur hush, hush for me please,” His father pleaded as he began to rock him gently this was going to be a lot harder than he would ever anticipate, but to keep you safe he’d give up the entire world. 

~~~

Decades went by, Phil had not only Wilbur to watch over but three more idiotic kids, others adopted of course. Wilbur had grown up into a strapping young man, got married, and had a son, you would be so proud of him. You’d spoil Fundy rotten, he just knew you would, he was sure you’d also spoil Tommy and Tubbo. Not to mention you’d force your motherly affection all over Technoblade and he wouldn’t have a choice but to open up to you. 

However, none of them even knew you existed, lies were told about who Wilbur’s mother was when any of them asked and it killed him on the inside to lie about you. Eventually, Wilbur just stopped asking, most likely assuming something bad happened that Phil never wanted to discuss with him. Something far too painful to even tell his son about,

 Which was half right he supposed. 

It started like any other day, Tommy and Wilbur were messing around with Dream, something about discs and war that Phil didn’t particularly care about. Wilbur had come over once again to plead with Phil for aid in the war, but once again he refused him. This time he even brought Fundy along thinking that seeing his grandson might change the older man’s mind. However, he still refused knowing it wasn’t going to end well in the long run even if Wilbur did win. Sometimes kids had to make their own mistakes to learn about the future. It’s not like he hadn’t told Wil it wouldn’t end well, he did multiple times, but the kid was just as stubborn as he was and wasn’t going to back down. 

“Dad, please. If you’d just join in we’d slay Dream and his team, all the fighting will come to an end. The nation I’m trying to create would finally be free and safe. Just help me.” Wilbur pleaded, a small whine slipping into his voice as he followed Phil and his son into the forest, “We can establish our new nation and be free from tyranny. No more war, isn’t that what you keep advocating for?” Wilbur continued to rant, not helping at all with his chores, his voice grew soft suddenly, and Fundy grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket. 

     “What is it, kid?”

     “Your earring’s glowing pops.” Fundy pointed to his ear and Phil froze in place the wood that he collected falling out of his hands, scattering all over the forest floor.

     “Dad?” Wilbur repeated his voice growing louder in concern, Phil looked around the clearing frantically before bolting in a random direction. 

     “Grandpa!?” Fundy yelled chasing off after him, his tail puffing up anxiously, 

     “Fundy don’t just run off!” 

Phil didn’t stick around to hear them, you were around here somewhere the question was where. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, please, please god let him find you. He didn’t have to wait long, he’d recognize you anywhere you still looked the same. Standing in the middle of a flower field you looked over your shoulder, “(Y/n)! Darling!” He called out choking a little on his words, your (e/c) eyes blew wide and he heard you laugh. You ran up to him flowers growing in your wake, you launched himself at the man and he lifted you in his arms. He spun you around laughing in disbelief, using his wings you both floated in the air, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, “I can’t believe you’re here.” Phil whispered, pulling away to cup your cheeks with your hands, “you’re real.”

     “Of course I’m here silly goose. I told you I’d come back didn’t I?” You laughed fondly as he began to pepper your face in kisses, “Even if it is way later than I intended…” You trailed off with a small wince, 

     “Who cares. You’re here now and you’re safe.” He landed a kiss on your lips as you kissed him back. You tasted just as he remembered like fresh air and oranges, he wanted to swallow you whole. He never wanted to let you go again, and he never would if he had a say in the matter. 

      “Dad? What the fuck?” Wilbur blurted as Fundy and he came upon the clearing, you pulled away from Phil. Tears filling your eyes, your hands coming up to cover your mouth, Phil rested a hand on the small of your back. 

     “Wilby…” She whispered, stumbling towards the man reaching out towards him, he raised an eyebrow and flinched away from your touch. You pulled your hand back taking a little breath,

     “I’m sorry. How do you know my name?” From behind you, Phil flinched; he knew that’s what you wanted, for him not to remember you. But, fuck he felt guilty about it, he was about to feel even more guilty in a minute. 

     “She’s your mom Wilbur.” 

     “Fucking WHAT.” Wilbur sputtered taking a few steps back from the woman, “You told me my mom was a fridge!”

     “You told him what.” You turned towards Phil, eyes blazing with annoyance, he held his hands up in surrender. “Why would you tell him his mother was a fridge! I know I told you to lie but a fridge! Phil that’s not even physically possible!” You scolded the man crossing your arms over your chest, his face flushed a bright red. He even missed you yelling and scolding him, he was down bad. 

     “(Y/n) I panicked-” Phil started to explain and you cut him off with an eye roll. “I’m sorry okay, I love you.” 

Meanwhile, Wilbur and Fundy looked in between the two adults rapidly as they talked. Both equally shocked and at a loss for words, Wilbur took a step forward and grabbed your wrist. 

     “Please continue your explanation,” He commanded softly, “If you are my mom why did you leave? Why haven’t you been here?” Wilbur frowned as he watched you look away from him, 

     “How much do you know about Nymphs Wilbur?” Wilbur turned bright red and the color reached up onto the tips of his ears, “What?”

“My mom’s a Nymph.” Fundy spoke up in place of Wilbur, “her name’s Sally. I...I’m Wilbur’s son.” He watched your face melt and mouth a broken ‘son?’, Phil noticed and walked up to squeeze your hand. You had missed so much, you hoped you didn’t blame yourself, you and Phil lived too long to live with that many regrets. 

     “What happened to her?” You asked tenderly, 

     “Killed.” Wilbur said bluntly, “by hunters. Don’t worry, I made sure to dispose of them.” 

     “I-I’m so sorry.” You spoke and Wilbur couldn’t help but feel compelled into your arms. Something about you just made him want to melt into your body, he knew Phil was right in the end. You were his mother through and through, I mean the shared pointed ears said enough. 

     “Is that why you left?” Fundy asked walking over to stand beside Wilbur, Fundy’s ears pressing against his head. They both watched you nod and Phil tightened his grip on your arm, you took in another deep breath. His hand moved to wrap securely around your waist, he was here for you. He’d always be here for you.

     “When you were born, the hunters were far worse, there were much more of them. Greater numbers and they sniffed out Nymphs like hunting dogs to a rabbit. I couldn’t keep a newborn baby safe, especially one that was half Nymph...Which probably explains why Fundy’s part fox, he has more Nymph in him.” The fox hybrid seemed to light up at even the inclination that he was special in any way, shape, or form. “It was safer for me to be as far away from the both of you as possible, and I was right considering you grew up into a handsome young man with a family of his own.” You chuckled fondly leaning into Phil’s touch. “But I can understand if you don’t trust me or want to get to know me,” You smiled sadly at the man Fundy spoke up before Wilbur could. 

     “No! We want to get to know you grandma!” He blurted taking your hands in his own, you melted at the adorable way his eyes lit up. You glanced up at Wilbur who Phil totally wasn’t threatening with his eyes, 

     “I…” The man looked hesitant, but as he stared into your warm eyes once more he felt encapsulated within them. His longing for a motherly figure in his lips came back at full force and washed over him like a tidal wave. He had a mother and she was safe and here and willing to come back into his life if he was ready. 

Was he ready? Why did he feel ready?

     “Fuck that hesitance she’s grandma,” You let out a delighted laugh ruffling up Fundy’s hair, his tail wagging elatedly behind him. 

     “Don’t spoil him, love.”

     “Fuck you, I’m spoiling the hell out of my grandson. Gotta make it up to him somehow.” Fundy’s tail only wagged harder as he wrapped you in a tight hug, you hugged him back just as tightly. 

     “Hey, Hey move over champion. I get to hug my mom now.” Wilbur snapped defensively, as Fundy snickered only looking up at him mischievously hugging you tighter. You laughed in delight seeing Wilbur huff, Phil melted against you in relief. Wilbur’s face was scrunching up the exact way you do when you’re pissed, he smiled against the side of your head. Wilbur pushed his son to the side gently and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, he towered over you but couldn’t help but bury his face in your neck. You cooed softly and ran your fingers through his hair, he was gone the moment you did so, melting in your arms completely. 

Without you noticing Phil took a step away from the group just to admire the moment from an outsider’s perspective. For what felt like the hundredth time that hour Phil felt light, he felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Everything was right in the universe again, you were finally holding your not-so-little boy in your arms again after all these years. Even if you did have a fox hanging off you as well, Phil let out a soft chuckle looking at the three with adoration. A long time ago he gave up his mortality and humanity for you, after you left he had pleaded to the gods once more, he swore he would give up anything for just one more day with you by his side. They had ignored his wishes, they knew without a doubt you’d be back in his arms again, and this time he wouldn’t have to give up a single thing. 

~~~

Okay but actually I had so much fun writing this??? Maybe even a Pt. II?

[apocalypticgargoyle]

okay but imagine edgy!karl but with the spice of closer by nine inch nails just a thought

EVERYONE: WE'RE TAKING THE SONG AT FACE VALUE CHILLAX

edit by 🍭 anon. step on me.

𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞: "... 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋..." | 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐲!𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐥

link for Closer by NIN

warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, vulgar language, temperature play, degradation, domination/submission, phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drinking, frat boys, smoking (inc. weed)

enjoy these vignettes of straight-up filth

other requests:

sorry no thoughts just edgy karl in a band. in all seriousness though i would kill for a band au with anyone

edgy!karl and like temp play? his tongue piercing got extra cold from the ice in his drink or something and then kisses the readers neck or something and the reader shivers and then he gets ~ideas~

sitting on edgy!karls leg in front of the whole frat, just a normal get together until karl starts bouncing his leg

In honor of me losing my voice for 3 days now, can we have Edgy!Karl reacting to you losing your voice because of him? I've said my piece -🍭

Ahhhhh okay so I had this dream where it was edgy Karl but the reader was riding him while he had his arms crossed behind his head and he was smoking a cigarette and just AHHHH. Can you extend on this pwease? :3 -🐙

mk hear me out, edgy karl. Phone sex ?

do you think that for your edgy! Karl fic we could get some more sub! Karl like he gets so drunk and all he wants to do is please the reader - 🥪

intoxicated seggs with karl (obviously not blackout drunk, fully consensual etc)

You weren’t sure how you ended up where you were, or even how Karl ended up where he was, on stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder as if it were made for him. He had gotten a call earlier in the night from a friend of his whose guitarist came down with the flu, and Karl was the only one he knew who could take over on such short notice.

You weren’t even aware he could play, let alone how good he would look in a torn-up t-shirt, lip ring caught between his teeth as he mindlessly strummed along to the music, sweat pooling at his temples from the lights and the exertion. His eyes always darted to you, looking for your flushed appearance as floods of dark themes flooded into your consciousness.

Girls were practically throwing themselves at him, yet with you in the crowd, his lust-blown pupils marked you as his target. As the set drew on, Karl sipped from a beer like the rest of the band, a cigarette dangling from his lips as clouds of smoke mixed into the air of fog. Finally, a cover song came on, one that you knew well. Its heavy beat served as the background music as memories flooded into your mind from when the song had played for the two in the past...

YOU LET ME VIOLATE YOU / YOU LET ME DESECRATE YOU ... YOU LET ME COMPLICATE YOU

You poured yourself a drink as Karl stood beside you, popping an ice cube in his mouth. It was your roommate’s birthday; nothing but a small gathering with a handful of your friends and some music. “Are you iron deficient, Karl?” You queried sarcastically, a nod to his ice chewing habits and a strange visit from your family members.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I already told your grandmother that I’m fine,” he grumbled, teeth crunching down on the cube as if to demolish the story, making you giggle. He moved to step around you, arm wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your neck, his tongue ring grazing against your skin. You bit back a moan, body shivering at the feeling and he chuckled against your shoulder. “You like that, baby?” He mocked; voice husky at his realization that such a little action could get you excited so easily.

Later that night, Karl traced a path down your body with an ice cube between his pearly white teeth, grey irises watching your every reaction as he stopped at the hemline of your underpants. He traced a line down the lacy garment as you arched your back before pushing himself up on his arms and pushing the cube into your mouth. “Hold that for me, pet,” he stated, breath hot against your cold, wet skin, begging to be touched. His tongue dragged across your collarbones, the cool of the metal in his mouth making you moan around the ice in your mouth, grinding your hips against his.

As his cold mouth pressed against your inner thighs, you bit down on the cube, shattering it in your mouth as Karl chuckled. “We’re gonna have a fun night,” he promised, cold teeth nipping at your flesh to make you whimper.

I’VE GOT NO SOUL TO SELL … HELP ME GET AWAY FROM MYSELF

The club bathroom was dingy and dimly lit, but the cleanliness was the last thing on your mind as your fingers curled around the skin, Karl’s hand wrapped around your throat as he thrust into you roughly. Your makeup was running down your face from his spit and your sweat. The bass of the music was loud enough that it echoed around in the bathroom, setting Karl’s rhythm to his animalistic paces.

You smiled lazily, bliss covering your fucked out expression as he smirked at you in the reflection of the mirror with pride to see you in such a mess at his antics. His blunt nails dug into your hip, slamming your body against him as he used you like some kind of toy. His hand controlled your breathing, making you gasp for air as you rolled your hips against him, calling out his name loud enough to ricochet around the room.

The next morning, you went to answer Karl’s question about what you wanted for breakfast when your voice came out in barely a whisper. You shut your eyes in embarrassment with a hand closing over your mouth as his eyebrows raised at you. “What was that, baby? Let me hear you,” he mocked, walking over to press his thumb against your throat.

You shook your head, refusing to let him gloat about you losing your voice moaning his name the night before. He kissed you roughly, tongue pressing into your mouth to lap at your weak moans. His teeth dragged across your lips. “I said, I wanna hear you. I wanna be reminded how you lost your voice,” he stated darkly, a smug expression plastered across his face.

I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL / I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE

With the party thundering into the night, you swiveled through the crowd of people grinding on each other, plastic cup in your hand as you returned to where Karl and a few of the other frat brothers were sitting. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as you handed him the drink and picked your cards back up.

You’d been playing strip poker with the other guys, who were mainly drunk out of their mind and half-naked anyway. It also helped that Karl would whisper in your ear to guide you into burning and showing the right cards. He once told you about the group of men that taught him how to play during a trip to his father’s favorite country club.

His legs spread a bit more beneath you, shifting you in his lap to sit on his leg. Shamefully, your breath hitched in your chest, a blush spreading to your cheeks as your nails dug into his arm as if to tell you to stop. He tensed slightly before realizing that the only reason you reacted was because the friction was almost a tension reliever for you. You were already riding on your winning streak, but the last thing you could handle was the feeling of his thigh between your legs and in front of all the men drugged out on smoke and hard liquor.

Karl’s lips pressed to the back of your ear, his hand moving to switch a few of your cards around while the other gripped your waist. As you won the next hand, Todd dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him, rolling his eyes playfully before dropping backward and mumbling about taking a nap before he was dealt in again.

You giggled at him, only for Karl to move his thigh, dragging you against him. You peered over your shoulder slightly, glaring at him as if to tell him to cut it out, but he just smirked at you, holding your hips as he bounced his leg. His lips pressed against your shoulder. “Either you get yourself off or I get you off,” he taunted, the friction making you moan quietly.

MY WHOLE EXISTENCE IS FLAWED / YOU GET ME CLOSER TO GOD

Karl turned the radio up, tucking his hands behind his head as you dug into his jacket pocket for his lighter. You had him between your thighs, his fingers dragging up your skirt as you took the joint from behind his ear and brought it to your lips, lighting it and inhaling. Something flashing behind Karl’s eyes as you cracked his window. He grabbed your face before you could exhale, making you shotgun the smoke into his mouth. You moaned at the feeling of the drug seeping into your mind as well as Karl feeding off of your high.

He exhaled before pulling you in for a hungry kiss, moaning against your lips and digging his fingers into your thighs. You pulled away from him, pushing him back against the seat and handing him the joint before unzipping his pants. You dug your teeth into his bottom lip as you sank down on his hardened arousal, moaning at the tightening feeling. He groaned, his hand groping your ass to urge you to ride him.

He pulled away from your kiss, resting the joint between his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head. Your hands pushed into his jacket, sliding beneath his shirt as you rolled your hips against his. You pulled your fingers into your hair, tugging at the strands as one of his hands moved to brush below the hem of your shirt, moving to press his fingers into your back.

He watched you intently, teeth biting into his lower lip to keep himself quiet as you moaned. Euphoria spread across his face to mix with the cloud of smoke from the weed. You kissed him again, his tongue ring pressing into your mouth with a groan as you rode him harder, clawing at the friction and moaning at the feeling of his hands on your body.

YOU CAN HAVE MY ABSENCE OF FAITH / YOU CAN HAVE MY EVERYTHING

“What are you wearing?” Karl asked, voice low and tired from the day of traveling; static from the interference on the phone line giving his tone the feeling of an old recorded message. He’d left earlier in the week, leaving after spending the weekend with you to get back home for his brother’s birthday. He’d nearly kidnapped you from your studies to go with him, but with the impending exams, there was no way you could get away.

You plugged in your headphones, moving to lay on your back as you realized what he was up to. “I’m wearing socks,” you stated sarcastically, making him laugh on the other end of the call. You knew he’d be scrubbed of his alternative appearance while in his mother's house. Your mind wandered to how weird it felt to kiss him without his piercings.

He hummed. “Only socks?” He chippered, playful lust dripping from his words as he spoke. You pressed your fingers against your bottom lip, trying your hardest to remember what it felt like with his teeth biting into your skin.

“I’m wearing your shirt, too,” you added; moving your fingers to toy with the hem of the dark t-shirt. You hadn’t even thought twice when you slipped it on earlier. Only now did you realize how nearly pathetic it was after he’d been trapped in your bed hours prior.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, yeah? You miss me at all?” He chided, making you chew the inside of your cheek. “Come on, tell me how much you miss me, baby.”

You were silent for a moment, his raspy voice sending heat throughout your body. You tried to picture him buried in your hair as he spoke to you, his fingers brushing beneath your clothing in the dark. “I miss you,” you hummed. “It’s cold here alone.” You chewed your lip, you were never good at dirty talk. You could hear your roommate and her group of friends downstairs giggling as they turned on some music, the lyrics drifting through the air vents.

Karl tsked. “I think that’s a lie. I know it’s warm between your legs, dove,” he answered coolly, making your cheeks flush. “Fuck, I want you,” he groaned, your eyes fluttering at his low tone as goosebumps spread across your body.

“Keep talking,” you whispered, your fingers itching to dip beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You could tell he was biting back a smug groan at your quiet plea. “You want me to walk you through touching yourself?” He almost growled. “I wanna hear you cum for me.”

I DRINK THE HONEY / INSIDE YOUR HIVE / YOU ARE THE REASON / I STAY ALIVE

The two of you stumbled into Karl’s room, the sound of music from the party drowning out slightly as he kicked the door shut, pressing his lips against yours as you tugged off his clothes. The back of your legs hit his bed frame, the pair of you tangling together before you rolled on top of him. He pulled your shirt over your head, hands settling on your hips to urge you to grind against him.

The taste of the liquor on his lips sent your head reeling as his cologne and the smell of cigarettes clouded your already muddled senses. Your fingers raked down his tattooed chest, making him groan, his eyes looking up at you submissively.

Whenever Karl was drunk, he always bent to your whim. His dominant mind seemed to flip a switch and all he wanted was to make you feel good. He wanted to be used by you like he always used you.

Heat flushed to your cheeks from the alcohol; you’d beaten Todd in beer pong, again, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have to down a few shots to level the playing field. Your mouth pressed to his again, tugging his pants down his legs before sinking down on him as he moaned deeply.

As you rode him, he moved your hand from off his neck, taking your thumb into his mouth; the metal of his tongue ring swirling against your thumb as his teeth grazed your skin. You moaned at the sight, moving your hand to settle in his hair, tugging his head to the side as your teeth dug into his neck, marking him with your mouth.

He pulled your hips against his, driving himself into you deeper as he thrust against you, making you groan against his skin. You kissed him, driving your tongue into his mouth as you savored his moans of arousal at the feeling of you.

You moved to sit up again, letting the music set your pace as Karl titled his head back in pleasure, teeth tugging his lip ring into his mouth. You clenched around him, just because you knew you could draw him over the edge before you, but his eyes flickered with a willingness to hold out that licked at the fire of determination building your tension.

He sent you a lazy smirk before reaching a thumb between your thighs from where his hands were gripping onto your hips; toying at your nerves and making your vision blur with how good he was making you feel. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, hips rolling against yours. You pressed your mouth to his again, basking in the taste of his words and the liquor that had melted against his tongue; ready the man between your legs to completely ruin you.

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Chances Are Masterlist

[helliontherapscallion]

Stressful Spectres (Sweet Betrayal Part 3)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse/neglect, mentions of death, slight body gore, blood

Word count: 2,873

With hands tightly clasped behind your back, you tensely paced around your office. The Pogtopians were constantly being sighted around the borders of Manberg and it was your job to prevent this. You tried everything; setting up traps, luring mobs around the vicinity, nothing worked. They just kept coming back like pesky cockroaches following pheromones. The only way you’d be able to prevent them from spying into the borders was to rebuild a wall, and Schlatt would turn your idea down the second the word ‘wall’ would leave your mouth. He gave you only two days to completely figure everything out from the last time one of the cowards was spotted running from the borders, and it seems that those two days are nearly up. 

“You should take a break, (y/n).” Without looking at him, you kept pacing and ignored him. “Stop ignoring me, you know I don’t like when you do that… Please, take a break. I’m worried about you,” he sounded just like he did from before. You felt your eye twitch. 

“...(Y/n), remember what I used to sing to you?” He chuckled, the sound being airy and far off, “‘hey hobo man, hey dapper Dan-’”

“Shut the fuck up!” You grabbed your vase and hurled it blindly in his direction. The glass shattered against the wall and you heard nothing else from the teenager. “I don’t need you anymore.” He had been visiting you for the past week or so, ever since Schlatt found out about you taking your birthday off. You were banned from speaking to the Badlanders and got a few physical punishments that would definitely give you more scars on your arms. It was your fault anyways, you were slacking off during a war when you were one of the leaders of this country.

Your door opened when you were mid pace, making you plaster a strained smile on your face and spin around to narrow your eyes at whomever decided to not knock. You were greeted by a slightly buzzed ram hybrid raising an eyebrow at you. He must’ve just started drinking. 

Whenever he was only slightly buzzed or on the very rare chance he was sober, he was the most affectionate with you. It wasn’t much, only small praises and the occasional smile, but by Ender you ate it up like you were a drug addict getting their first hit in months. You craved any type of affection, no matter where it came from or how rarely it came. You were willing to wait for it, even if it was rare. 

His amber gaze flicked around the room before it landed on the ceramic shards embedded into the carpet. He jutted his chin towards it, “fuck happen there?” 

You ran your hand down your face and massaged your aching cheeks, “nothing. Just thought I saw a rat, but my mind was just playing tricks on me.” His calculating gaze pierced through you like a spear before he narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. He walked over to the window and looked out at the vast city, hands neatly clasped behind his back. “...Have you come up with a solution to our... problem?”

You sighed angrily and resumed your pacing, “I’ve tried everything. They just dismantle the traps I set up, kill the mobs I lure around it, they even killed the iron golems! The only option here is to put up the walls again.” 

“I know you didn’t just say what I thought you fuckin said,” Schlatt hissed out, “there’s no way in hell I’m putting up those walls again.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do then, that’s our only option,” you mumbled under your breath only to freeze when Schlatt stomped up to you. He spun you around and grabbed your shoulders, leaning close to your face. His breath smelled like tobacco and a hint of scotch, “are you questioning my authority?” You shook your head frantically. “Really? Cuz it sure sounds like you’re questioning my authority. You seem to forget that I’m your boss and you will treat me as such. Do you understand me?”

You nodded and he let you go, slightly shoving you off to the side as he walked past you. “I-I’m sorry, Dad.” He paused in your doorway, “don’t call me that. I don’t want to be the father of someone that constantly contradicts me. I’ll be back in an hour, you better have this shit figured out by the time I get back or I swear to Ender I’ll fire your sorry ass. You’re on thin ice, (y/n).” Without a second word he left your office, the sound of his dress shoes clanking against the tile fading down the hallway. 

You could feel your heart break inside of your chest and your lungs get deflated by the shards piercing them. He was the last person that actually loved you, and you fucked it up. You always fuck everything up, you supposed that it was an innate part of you. No matter what you did or what you tried, you’re always going to be a fuck up. 

No, you can’t just sit here and ponder all of your life’s mistakes; you need to be brainstorming before you lose your connection to the person you loved the most. You paced around your office endlessly murmuring to yourself. You knew he was watching you pace again standing off in the corner, the room felt off like it always did whenever he was there. You ignored him and continued your pacing. 

Just as you came up with a solution, your door was opened and Schlatt stepped into your office once more. He was swaying slightly on his feet and his suit jacket was unbuttoned. “You figure something out?” 

You put a confident smile on your face, “yes. I think we should send patrols around the border, and I think the Badlanders and Rutabagaville members would fare nicely. We can send them in groups of two and send them once in the morning, afternoon, evening, and night.” 

He nodded to himself, satisfied. “That sounds like a decent plan, you’re keeping your job for now. But don’t think I’ll forget about what you said earlier.”

You felt extremely relieved and grinned at him, “yessir. I apologize for that once again, it just-”

“Save it, you’re still on thin fucking ice… Don’t look at me like that, ya smiling freak. Your face is absolutely disgusting.” You dropped your smile and looked at your slightly scarred fingers. Light pink raised scars littered your skin in random amounts along your right arm, leading up your neck, and becoming the most concentrated on the entirety of the right side of your face. You avoided looking in the mirror, mostly out of anger because your appearance was a constant reminder of the stain your ‘brothers’ left on your life. You were still adjusting to having a blind spot in your vision, the eye having lost its sight and now a cloudy white color from the fireworks. Your eyelid on that side was permanently half-lidded, unable to open up fully even if you tried. 

You were fully aware that your appearance was… unsightly, to say the least, to everybody that looked at you (yourself included), but Schlatt was one that never cringed away from you. Hell, even Quackity (the mere mention of his name made icy betrayal wash over your entire body) avoided looking at you in the first few weeks of your injury. Schlatt was the one that loved you for who you were, scars and all, and you fucked it up. 

He squinted at you, his eyelids blocking everything with the exception of his rectangular pupils. A snort left his lips before he moved to leave you to your own devices. “I’ll inform the others of their new duties, get your paperwork done.” 

“Yessir.” 

You sat down at your desk chair with a sigh and rubbed at your aching cheeks before you picked up your pen and started on your paperwork. Well, it was yours with the exception of Schlatt’s thrown about occasionally in piles. The room was engulfed into an uncomfortable chill once more, he’s back. You honestly have no idea why he just keeps coming back to you or even if his pale spectre was just a stress induced hallucination. He just showed up in your office one day saying that he’s been looking everywhere for you. He acted and looked exactly like he did before he left, except his attitude was strangely chipper for someone that had an iron pickaxe buried deep within their forehead. 

“(Y/n), I’m back!” He sang, floating over to your desk. “Geez, that goat guy is a real jerk isn’t he?” His slightly glowing hand appeared in your vision and tried to pluck the pen out of your grasp. It swiped right through your hand, making you shiver at the uncomfortable feeling. “I’m still not used to that.”

You huffed and focused more on your paperwork. You could feel the chill getting closer, leading up to the point where he was directly behind you. The icy air gusted down your neck with every breath he exhaled. “Whatcha workin on?” He whispered in your ear. 

“Nothing that you need to worry about.” 

“So they speak! I was worried you went completely mute… Well, you did scream at me before, but I didn’t count that. That’s okay though, I knew I could get you to talk to me sooner or later. I’m irresistible, you remember how I was with the ladies.” 

“Fuck off.”

“No need to be so mean to me.” You focused on your paperwork again, furrowing your brows and trying to tune him out. “(Yyyyyyy/nnnnn), you can’t ignore little ole me forever.” 

“I can and I will.”

He gasped before laughter streamed from his lips, the sound being muffled since it was on your deaf side. “You just talked to me though! I think that’s a win for me. Do you remember when-”

“I swear to Ender, if another word comes out of your mouth I’ll make sure that the next pickaxe finds its home through your tongue and down your throat.” 

He was silent after that, leaving you to your paperwork. At least, that was until someone knocked on your office door. You sighed before plastering a smile on your face, “come in.” Your door opened to reveal the signature white smiley face mask, messy blond hair, and green hoodie.

Dream had been giving you small lessons on your swordsmanship lately, and you were getting better with each passing lesson. You were proficient on defense, so it was time for you to learn how to offensively attack. 

You saw that he placed an apple on your desk. You looked up at him in confusion. “What? You haven’t eaten anything all day, I don’t want you passing out or anything during our lesson.”

“Finally! Someone with actual sense around here! It’s so refreshing, isn’t it (y/n)? Well, it’s refreshing for me anyways.” 

Dream chuckled, “thank you.” 

Wait a damn minute.

Dream could hear him?!

Your pen froze mid sentence and rested on the paper, it’s ink pooling in one place. You slowly looked up at Dream, “you can hear him?” He looked at the teenager behind you before looking back at you, his head tilting. “Of course I can. He’s right there.” 

“Yeah (y/n), I’m right here. My name’s Lucius by the way, it’s nice to meet you!” He floated over to Dream and held out his hand, the pickaxe handle almost hitting the taller male in the chest. Dream stepped back slightly and nodded, “Dream. Eat that apple fast, we don’t have all day.” You snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the apple, taking absentminded bites while staring at your dead best friend talking animatedly to the masked man. 

So he was real after all. You were worried something might have actually been wrong with you for a moment! It was nice to know that you weren’t completely insane. 

“...meet (y/n)?” 

“Oh, I’m training them at the moment, would you like to watch?” 

“Yes! That sounds exciting, doesn’t it (y/n)?” The two looked at you expectantly, Dream’s head tilting slightly and Lucius smiling widely at you. You swallowed your bite and nodded, throwing the apple core into your trash bin. “...Yeah. Yeah it does. Uh, I’m going to get changed and then we can start our session.” 

After you got changed, you met with the two outside your door and walked out of the White House to the training grounds. The entire time you were walking, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Lucius. Every time he would turn his head, the pickaxe would move with it. The crusted blood that emanated from the wound and splattered down his pale face was perhaps the darkest color on him with the exception of his jet black hair. 

In a strange way, it wasn’t the blood or the pickaxe protruding from his head that disturbed you the most; it was his eyes. Of course they still crinkled at the edges when he smiled, but it just wasn’t the same. The black eyes that were once so full of life were a dull gray with milky pupils. 

Other than the obvious pickaxe, blood, dead eyes, and constant glowing, he looked exactly like he did before he died. His baggy sweater, albeit mudstained and wrinkled, was still a salmon color with its signature pinstripes. The mop of straight black hair was still pulled into a bun with multiple unruly strands escaping the elastic and framing his face.

Before you knew it, a pale hand was waving in your face. “Earth to (y/n)! Oh good, you’re back to the land of the living! What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Well, I mean you were just staring at me, but my point still stands.”

You moved your gaze to the dirt path, “it’s nothing, I’ll tell you later.” He huffed, but didn’t say anything else to you for the rest of the trip. Instead, he was making small comments on your surroundings. 

Eventually, you were across from Dream on the training arena holding a wooden sword in front of you defensively. Lucius was sitting in the grass a little ways away from the painted boundaries with one foot over the other and his elbows resting on his knees propping his chin up. He was watching with an intensity he always had whenever you were doing something he deemed ‘dangerous’. To be fair, sparring with the most skilled member on the server was fairly dangerous.

“Let’s see if you remember what I taught you last time.” Without giving you a warning, he charged at you with his own wooden sword raised. Your sword clashed with his and you pushed against him. The mask moved upwards on his face slightly, “good, but always expect the unexpected.” 

With a simple sweep of his foot, you were on the ground gasping for air. You could faintly hear Lucius suck in air between his teeth before he shouted “you’re doing great, sweetie, but do better!”

Thanks, Lucius. Very motivating.

You rolled away from Dream’s foot before he could pin you to the floor. Your mind flashed back to when Techno- no. None of that, you need to focus. You got back onto your feet in the blink of an eye and dodged another blow. You used his momentum against him, stepping away at the right moment sending him skidding to a stop. 

Before long, he had you on the floor again with the tip of the sword pressing into your chest. He relaxed before helping you up, “you did better than I thought you would, but there were still some obvious flaws in what you did. Using my momentum against me was smart, but with what you did the opponent would recover fast. Here, let me show you how to properly do that.” 

You improved on a few things defensively and learned a few things offensively before the sun started to set and cast shadows on the surrounding forest. Dream shook your hand, “nice work today, you’re gonna rival even the best eventually.”

“You were great, (y/n)! I didn’t know you had it in you!” I didn’t have it in me when you were alive, you mentally corrected him. “Thanks, Lucius.” You glanced at him only to be met with his body phasing through yours in an attempted hug. He fell to the ground and rolled over, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ll never get used to that.” 

Dream snorted before he shoved his hands into his pockets and started to nonchalantly walk back towards the White House. You and Lucius looked at each other before you ran to catch up with him. Lucius floated next to you, examining the dirt on your exposed arms and the forming bruises on your calves. He wrinkled his nose, “you really need a shower.” 

“Well I can’t exactly strip now and find a shower in the woods, can I Lucius?” 

“You just reek.”

“Yeah, you kinda do.”

“Thanks Lucius, Dream. Really feeling the love.” 

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[arty-shadow-morningstar]

My Maribat Betrothal AU: Take Two

Okay so people like that post that is more of a train wreck produced by my sleep-deprived brain. I expanded on it and added some changes. Fair warning: Most of my ML and DC knowledge came from Maribat fics, a few episodes and the DCU movies like son of Batman. I have Mari's pov and background stuff written and it needs some editing. Anyways, enjoy <3

It is not a continuation but: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

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

PART 1

Damian groaned.

He was not having a good day.

First, Father decided to pair him with Todd, TODD of all people, for patrol.

Second, while doing a stake-out for the warehouse near the docks which might be used as storage for criminal activity and enduring Red Hood's annoying taunts, they both were knocked out by tranquilizers and his mother's face was the last thing he had remembered seeing.

"Don't worry, little one. You are just fulfilling your duties as heir to the Demon's Head. Then, all will be perfect." She had said, just before he fully lost consciousness.

Third, he woke up to being chained up with a major headache. Taking a bearing of his surroundings, the room he was imprisoned in had two exits, an iron door and a window that had the view of his childhood home. He was dressed in wedding ensembles of the League of Shadows. Red Hood was chained up next to him as well but unlike him, still had his suit and helmet on. Glancing to the other side, he saw a raven-haired girl, chained up and dressed in the black and gold robes of a bride. She had also retained consciousness and was staring at him.

Bluebell eyes met his piercing green.

His betrothal was petite with Asian features. She had freckles dotting her button nose and rosy cheeks.

She is fragile and will break easily, he thought. Why did his mother want him to marry such a weakling?

"Savez-vous où nous sommes? (Do you know where we are?)" Her voice was sweet and trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide and seemed filled with innocence yet carrying great sadness. She was an Angel, an ordinary girl, not fit for this harsh and unforgiving world she was forcefully going to get married to.

She opened her mouth to ask another question and suddenly, she went limp, appearing to be unconscious. Damian furrowed his brows in confusion. Why did she-

A moment later, he heard footsteps approaching and the iron door opened to reveal his mother.

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

Jason woke up to the sight of the Bitch Talia and Demon Spawn, face to face, glaring at each other.

Talia broke the tense silence.

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Married? The Demon Spawn is getting married?!

Jason saw through his helmeted vision, a girl about Damian's age, chained up like them but not yet awake. He raised his hand and saw the shackles around his wrists. The chains were connected to the wall. He experimentally yanked the chains, drawing Talia’s attention.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Jason said vehemently.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Talia stood up and grabbed Ladybug’s(?) hair and yanked so that her eyes met the girl's. The girl, who unfortunately was going to be the Demon Spawn's bride, lets out a cry and starts to tear up. Jason felt anger at how she was being treated, seeing the girl as a little sister already.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Demon Spawn growled out. The girl starts babbling in French. From the little French Jason knows, she was begging for mercy.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.” Damian spat out.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection." Talia countered, letting go of the girl.

Miraculous? Guardian? What the hell?

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

The mother and son begin to bicker. Damian refusing to marry and Talia trying to change his mind.

“Yes, both have to be willing to be married but the curse placed on both of you will ensure that you will agree.”

The dark haired girl had stopped crying and started whispering in a strange language when the fight started, fiddling with the silver ring she wore. Jason saw a terrifying smile crossed the face of the girl across him that chilled him to the bones. Later, a black blur came out of her robes and went through the door. He wondered if he imagined that before he was a determined glint in her eyes.

He blinked.

Talia was choking on the chains that were previously chained to the wall and were now around her neck. Fortunately for them, Talia had closed the door after her entrance and the guards most likely to be stationed outside didn’t storm into the cell. The girl whispered something in Talia's ear, making the woman's eyes widen with what could be fear.

The experienced assassin struggled to get free and gain an upper hand on the girl but was unsuccessful, passing out from the lack of oxygen and strangely strong grip of the small girl.

What happened next was surprising. She breathed hard on her shackles which instantly disintegrated into flakes of rust.

Holy Shit! Demon Spawn's girl is magic. Jason knows his mouth was hanging open under his helmet at that realization. Damian seems to be in the same state.

Talia didn't have the keys to the locks. Being crafty like that. Bitch

"Call me Lady." she said in lightly accented English as she summoned black orbs at the tip of her hands. “Stay still.”

She then proceeds to place her hands on Jason’s shackles, turning them into nothing more than specks.

"I am Red Hood." said Jason, rubbing his wrists.

"The little shit here," as he kicked Damian's leg, " is-"

"Damian Al Ghul" she said the last name with venom. She moved on to Damian's bonds. "Son of that bitch over there, grandson of Ra's, demon heir, blah blah blah. Hold still, mon mignon. I am sure you don't want to lose a hand."

Damian stopped moving at that, due to the pet name or fear Jason couldn’t tell but by the red at the tips of his ear, it could be the former. And she used her powers to free him.

Lady somehow managed to use what remained of the chains to hog tie Talia up.

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

“How do we get out?” Damian asked, inspecting the blade that he flinched from his mother.

“Hey, kit.” A nasally voice called out. “I checked out the place we are in. Like you asked. The way to the Throne room is heavily guarded and they seem to think old Ra’s the target. The Pits are guarded too but they are nothing you can’t handle.”

“What is that?” Jason shrieked.

“Thanks, Plagg, you will get that camembert danish when we get back. This is a kwami, a god of sorts and his thing is destruction so I wouldn’t insult him if I were you. He likes to go by Plagg”, answered Lady, which doesn’t clear up Jason’s confusion.

“So, Pigtails, what’s the plan?” The floating, black cat-shaped god(?) asked.

“I was thinking of destroying the Pits to give Al Ghul a middle finger and call Maman to use the Horse to get home.”

“We need Tikki to get rid of it..”

“I will just tell Maman to bring the earrings.”

Damian snorted, “That sounds like a foolish plan. You are insane and not strong enough to take on the League alone, despite having a ‘god’ of destruction at your side. This Tikki or magic earrings will destroy the Pits, many have tried. And sorry to disappoint but no horse can make it up the mountainside of Nanda Parbat.”

“Have to agree with Demon Spawn here and I rarely do that. Your plan sounds insane, Pixie. You are just one girl. Let us help, we know the League better than you. We can come up with a better one.” Jason was worried for the girl, she was crazy if she thought her plan would work.

Lady smirked, “It is a perfectly sound plan. I know what I am talking about. Despite the weak girl act, I am no Damsel in distress. After this is all over, we will split our ways and hopefully, never see each other again.”

“We can’t separate. My mother said there is a curse that will ‘make us fall in love.’” Damian said, using air quotes. “You need to come with us so we can get someone to break it.”

“Fine. But I need to do something before I am coming with you. Plagg, Claws out.”

Bright green light flashed around her and she was now dressed in a black bodysuit with green linings. It was armoured at the chest, knees and elbows. (Add whatever details you want, I can’t do it. Jacket, designs, use your imagination) Her gloves were claws-like, reminding them of Selina and there was a belt carrying some vials, pouches and throwing stars. Her hair was now longer and braided and seemed to move on its own. Cat ears were attached to her head. Her eyes were changed so the sclera were the same shade of blue as her iries and the pupils were slitted like a cat. A black domino mask framed her face. Two ten-inch daggers appeared out of thin air in her hands.

The transformed Lady did the inhuman feat of kicking the door open. The assassins stationed outside were immediately knocked out by Lady.

“Well, are you coming or not?” She called out, before running down the corridor. Jason patted his shocked brother’s shoulder, “You doing okay there, demon spawn?”

“Tch, Let’s go, Todd.” Damian replied, trying to get rid of that funny feeling in his chest.