#i just. something about the violence of being made immortal against your will and

[13daze]

thinking about medea again

[bohbee]

Genshin characters reaction when someone's creeping you out

Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Kaeya, Diluc. Ayato

Warnings: Creeps, Creeps touching you, sexual connotations [Diluc, Zhongli] Violence [Xiao], empty threats [kaeya]

Notes: if they're immortal you're immortal!!

Ayato

Your relationship with Ayato hasn't been released yet. People did know he had proposed to a person, though. This allowed both of you to complete your moving process without people bombarding you. You walked just outside of Kamisato Manor after you had just finished emptying your old house. Now, it was time for relaxation. Or so you thought.

Being such a renowned family meant people were always waiting outside of the building, ready to ask questions. They were often moved by the guards, but a few stragglers would always stay in place. You walked along a slightly glowing path, enjoying the fresh air before you walked back. "Uh- excuse me!" An unfamiliar voice called out to you. You turned around, "Hello?" The man smiled at your response. Usually, people would just ignore him. "Why, hello! I - uh happened to see you walk out of the Kamisato Manor.... are you perhaps Mr.Kamisatos lover?" His response was blunt and straight to the point, causing your blood to drain from your face.

"No, no, of course not, haha, I'm just here to visit an old friend." You did a little victory dance in your head at the quick lie you made. The male nodded. "So that means you're single... are you not?" His body got closer to yours. "Well, I- uh- it's complicated!" You stumbled over your words, a pink hue from embarrassment flushed your face. "Seems to me that you are blushing~" he got even closer, causing you to walk backward, but you bumped into something.

You go to turn. However, a familiar sturdy hand placed itself on your hip. The males face drained from any blush it had, his eyes widening. "Why are you pushing yourself on this person?" The noble voice rang out through the air. The man bowed down "S-sir I promise I wasn't. We were just about to go on a date." The creepy male was stumbling over his words, Ayato held an amused smile. "Really? Well, I didn't think that my fiance would get tired of me that quickly" Ayato stated.

The male looked up, shocked. He apologized far too many times and ran off like prey. Your fiance knelt down a little and kissed your ear ever so slightly. "Don't worry about it. He won't say a word, " You nodded and turned around, softly kissing his lips. "You're truly amazing, Mr.Kamisato." he smiled at you, giving you another kiss, leading you back to the manor. "As are you, soon to be Kamisato"

Diluc

Clicking and clacking glasses could be heard all around the tavern. Tonight was particularly rowdy. People were celebrating the 'fall' of Dvalin. This was definitely the most filled night this Tavern has seen. You turned towards your husband, smiling softly. He walked over to you softly, placing his hand on yours before turning back to his work. Whenever it got busy, you would help him make drinks while he washed the glasses and made food.

"Hey, hot stuff." A voice rang out. You assumed he wasn't talking to you. I mean, it was often for those to flirt near you, so you just continued to do your job. "I'm talking to you." Finally, you look up only to find an adventurer drunk out of his mind glaring at you with hungry eyes. You shivered uncomfortably, going back to work. 'Hopefully, if I ignore him, he'll go away.' However, when you turned, he grabbed your wrist. "H-hey!" You said causing him to smirk.

"A whiney one, huh?" You pull your arm back only for him to yank you forward, half of your body practically across the counter. Kaeya quickly alerted his older brother, Diluc whipped his head around, watching you struggle against the grasp of the man.

The Tavern got quiet, everyone watching Dilucs Wrath as he marched towards the male. His hand gripped the adventures arm, "Watch it!" The drunken male said. "Out." Dilucs tone was cold, making the males grip on your arm loosen, and you slid away. Kaeya and Venti rushed over to check on you. "You can't just kick me out! Who even are you?!" Diluc smirked, "I'm the owner." He grabbed the male by his collar and shoved him out the door. "Come again, and your consequences will be detrimental."

The Tavern went back to its usual business, and Diluc knelt down beside you. Kaeya and Venti moved out of the way after he thanked them. "I'm so sorry, I would've done something sooner." You shook your head as he grabbed your arm, assessing the bruises you had. "It's fine Luc, it happens, plus now everyone knows not to fuck with my husband" he blushed at your words and kissed your arm. "Go ahead and sit with Venti, I'm going to close early." You nodded your head, pecking his lips softly.

Kaeya

You walked out of your house, making your way to the Knights of Favonius to drop your fiances lunch off. It was a soft breezy day, the sun was out but it wasn't too hot. You made your way up the stairs, carefully not to drop the food. However, as soon as you made it, a fatui member stared down at you. "U-uh hello." You mumbled a greeting and went to walk your way. However, their hand grabbed your arm. "Not so fast," your heart dropped at their actions. People were around, but no one really seemed to notice how uncomfortable you were, so they went on with their day.

"Is there a problem?" You asked nicely, trying to avoid any problems. "Every day I see you, every day you bring food to the Knights, and you ignore my hellos. Why is that?" You were genuinely confused. You knew he never said hello to you. In fact, you made note of him always being stone cold. "There must be a misund-" your voice was cut off by his grip tightening. "You think I'd say it if it was a misunderstanding? Hm?" His voice was filled with fury, you weren't sure what had caused this but you really didn't want to deal with this.

"Listen, I really don't know what's happening. I'm just trying to give my fiance his lunch. " The male smirked."What if I don't let you? " His dark demeanor made your blood drain, and your hands started to shake. However, a hand grabbed your shoulder. "Then I'd have to take you out myself." You fiancé appeared out of the blue, "Yeah, you're not getting away with that. You're under arrest for harassment." He quickly motioned the other Knights to detain him.

He looked back towards you. "You're just irresistible, huh my love? Everyone wants a bite, " he joked around, trying to lighten up the mood, which worked. "Don't worry, my love magnet, I'm off for today."

Xiao

When it came to dating the anemo yaksha, it meant you HAD to be safe, and if there was any situation, you needed to say his name. But in this one situation you couldn't. A knife was held up to your throat, your arm already aching from being slashed earlier. A singular treasure hoarder behind you. He was randomly yelling commands, causing you to start to hyperventilate. The man smiled at your 'weak' reaction. "Who would've thought... I got lucky after all, huh? " His free arm snaked around your waist as the knife slightly pierced the skin on your neck, a small amount of blood dripping down. You winced and whispered a quiet help. "Go on yell, at this hour no one will hear you," he tightened his grip on you. His breath disgustingly touching your neck. "I'm gonna kill you." The knife dug in deeper. "Xiao," you whimpered quietly. The man went to ask what you said but was quickly slashed down.

It didn't end there, Xiao lost it. You turned away, but your ears still picked up on the slashing of the treasure hoarders body. It quickly came to an end, and Xiao ran over to you, his mask now off. His hand lifted your chin, exposing your neck. "Archons," he muttered and quickly lifted you up, teleporting you to his room in the inn.

"Sit." You did as he said and sat on the bed, slowly removing the fabric from your arm. Your hands shook heavily from the traumatic events that you had just gone through. "Hey. Look at me." The calm voice said, you oked up at your beloved, "I'll help you fight, okay? The demons on the outside and in here, " he poked your head softly. You tackled him in a hug, "Thank you so much," he stumbled back but wrapped his arms around you. "It's my duty, now sit down so I can fix you"

Zhongli

You sat at the teahouse with your beautiful husband, Zhongli. It was a calm tradition the two of you had for hundreds of years. After your duties, you would both meet up and sit in silence while drinking some warm tea, most of the time reading a book or draw. He excused himself to use the restroom, you nodded and continued to sketch out some drawings.

However, a red-haired male sat down beside you. "What's that there?" You stared at him, he looked awfully familiar. "Do I know you?" His freckled face turned towards yours. He leaned in a little two close to your comfort, causing you to back up a bit. "No, but I can teach you who I am." You shook your head "That won't be needed." The male smirked and grabbed your pencil "Oh yeah then-" he was introduced by a booming voice "Childe. Leave."

He smirked and bowed down, leaving after blowing you a kiss. You look up at your husband, heavily confused. "What was that?" The geo Archon didn't answer. Rather, he grabbed your shoulders, bringing you into a passionate long kiss. "It was a nuisance trying to take What's mine"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

This highkey sucked💀

[thatanimeramenchick]

I just thought of somethin(I’m sorry if I’m spamming or anything. I’ve got ADHD so my brain is constantly making ideas that I have to share. I do not wish to overwhelm you)

What about a Yandere Lucifer(Hazbin) with a immortal human reader? They were cursed from a young age with immortality because of a mistake there mother made. They can die but don’t really stay dead. Every time they die they get a scar so there covered with them both large and small. They go to university but was supposed to be sacrificed by a cult to Lucifer but obviously survived but now there stuck with Lucifer always being around?

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 1

You’re fine! Definitely not spamming. I just might take some time before I get to writing it. Lucifer has me in a choke hold, but so does Vox. I also wanted to do this idea justice, as it actually has a lot of potential, so it took me a little while before I finally felt like it sounded kind of decent. Also it was getting long, so going to be a two parter.

Part Two

Trigger Warning: Graphic Violence

Word Count: 2,431

---

You first realized something was wrong when you were twelve.

It was a warm August afternoon, perfect for a day on the lake. Only a week left before school, your extended family was having a last little hurrah camping trip. Water brushed against your shoulders as you waded through the water, looking for small fish and crawdads. Your cousins were on the shore, half asleep as they rested from swimming.

“Kids! It’s time for lunch!” you heard your Aunt’s voice fill the air.

Eager for food, like any other over-exhausted child, you turn quickly on the slick rocks, ready to run inside.

“Wait for me!” you cry out, taking no care in how fast you were moving.

And down you went. Your slipped right out from under you and sent you crashing beneath the waves. A roar filled your ears as your body ripped through the water and sent your head against the stone ground. Along with the cold water, you felt a hot liquid bubbling from the crown of your head.

Whether from shock or pain, you were unable to swim. You thrashed and attempted to scream, only letting more water into your throat. Surely someone had heard you falling and would come to save you, right? There was no way they hadn’t heard you.

Yet as seconds passed, you started to think that maybe no one had heard you. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as you were unable to hold your breath and water choked down your throat.

You swore that you felt your lungs literally ripping apart, splitting at the seams in a pain that was so intense you felt like you would black out. You suddenly knew what it was like to be the balloons you and your cousins had blown up with a little too much air and watched pop into a million pieces.

The oxygen must finally have evaporated from the combination of fluid filling your lungs and blood leaving your body. This was it.

You were going into the arms of the angels.

---

To this day, beneath your hair, was the large scar from “the incident” as your family referred to it.

Well, when they referred to it at all, which was almost never.

All you had remember was awakening in the hospital, gasps, tears, and even a scream filling the air as you sat up.

“I-impossible!” your aunt had said, gazing in shock at you, “She was… She had to be….”

“I told you, the doctors had made a mistake,” your mother had said calmly. She had been sitting beside you, squeezing your hand. Though her words were soft and controlled, there were tears on the edges of her eyes.

Your cousins started crying as well, coming forward, looking just as stunned. The only one who had seemed unsurprised was your mother, who held your hand in a death grip.

That day lived in infamy in your mind. Though nothing had ever been explained, small snippets from conversations you hadn’t been meant to overhear had formed an image of what had happened.

Finally, it had been noticed that you were not there, and your eldest cousin had been the horrified witness to your body in the lake, water red from the massive loss of blood. Though they had called the ambulance, it was clear to everyone that you had died before they had even got there.

Or so they had thought.

You had been laid in the hospital, check on, with no pulse or breath in you. Your family had been in the room crowding around you, all saying final goodbyes. All except your mother, who had simply grabbed onto your hand and insisted that you weren’t dead. The doctor had made a mistake, you would be fine. Naturally, your Aunt and Uncle thought that your mother was simply confused after the traumatic experience.

But you had woken up. Suddenly, something had changed. The machines detected life, and you had taken a gasping breath before groggily opening your eyes.

The nurses and doctors had seem just as spooked as your extended family, but once it was determined that somehow you had survived and your lungs were intact, they let you go. Someone must have made some kind of mistake at some point.

There had been no explanation, logical or otherwise for your salvation. Your mother said that you must be under divine protection, and you had accepted the answer, as much as you weren’t really convinced of it. Convinced or not, you were alive, and you supposed that was what mattered.

That had been nine years ago. It was something you rarely thought about anymore, though recently, you had been wondering about it. The whole thing was weird, and your studies in medical school only made it weirder.

You didn’t have time to think about it these days though. You were short on two things, money and time. Which is why you were now looking at the posters hung in the cafeteria for an opportunity to make some quick cash.

You had some cash flow from your repeated donations of plasma and blood cells, as well as the occasional babysitting gig in between studies. You needed more though, and the flier you were looking at was promising a lot of pay if you went to this interview and were accepted as a participant for an experiment that some seniors were doing. So many of you had participated in a couple of experiments for professors and students to earn a buck here and there. You could do it again. You ignored the vague wording, thinking that it was probably some experimentation that involved the subjects being in the dark.

So now, you were sitting on a park bench with the interviewer for the program, being drilled harder than if you had stayed out all night as a teenager.

“Do drugs, smoke, alcohol?” the interviewer asked.

“No,” you said.

“All right,” she said, "And... we'll need to know you're relationship history as well. Any boyfriends, girlfriends?”

“I had one boyfriend in high school,” you said, "Been too busy last few years though.”

“Just one boyfriend... Ok, and any hookups?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Like, you know, bar or party hookups. Casual sex.”

“I-I- Uh... No,” you said.

“So you're a virgin?” she asked.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t see how this is relevant,” you said, feeling uncomfortable.

“It’s necessary information for dividing the groups in our experiment,” she said, “Your personal name isn’t going to be connected to any of this. But we need to know as much personal information as possible if you want us to consider you for this. We need to know our subjects on a deep level.”

You sigh in irritation, “Fine, whatever. Yes, I am.”

“Ok,” she said, scribbling something down.

After a few more minutes of interrogation, she stood up.

“All right then, I think I have everything I need to know. We will be in touch if you pass all right? If you do, you'll be contacted on the meeting place for the experimentation,” she said.

---

A week later, you had gotten a call back from the same interviewer, saying you had passed initial testing. They assigned a day for you to show up at the lab. After you had arrived on the appointed day and signed some wavers, they took you aside and gave you some medication, saying they were conducting a test on REM sleep in three sessions. The first two had gone typically, and you had awoken, mind numb and fuzzy after the sessions. But something was different when you woke up the third time. You weren't in the lab.

You awoke, foggy eyed, your mind still grainy. The room was freezing, even more so than the normally cool temperature it was kept at. In a few seconds, you realized you weren't in the lab at all or likely the university. Your surroundings were totally alien as you realized where you were and who you were with.

You were looking up at a circle of men and women in black and red cloaks. A sickening smell of incense fills the air, and you feel something right digging into your wrists and ankles. In moments, you realize you have been tied down to a stone altar, somewhere dark and damp, like a cave or temple. Directly over you stands a middle aged man, holding a knife.

“She’s perfect,” he said, “A beautiful young virgin. Not tainted in any way, in good health. The ideal sacrificial lamb.”

The day of the incident was swarming back into your mind as you now struggled against the rope tying you own, as futile as you had felt slapping against the water. You couldn’t even attempt to scream, a cloth was shoved so far down your throat, the scent of whatever chemical they had dipped in it making it burn. Part of you wondered if you would vomit and repeatedly suffocate before he could even stab you.

“Oh Lucifer, we call upon you to accept this sacrifice,” the man called out, raising the knife, “May you be pleased with this offering, and in exchange bless our work. May we be more prosperous and rich than any others! We bow down to you!”

With his final words, he sliced the knife into your chest, so fast and swift that you didn’t feel it at first. It was as subtle as a breeze rushing past your cheek or hearing a whisper in the hallway. Small as it was though, you couldn’t deny that it was there. Within a split second, as he ripped the knife out, you felt some of that pain materializing. A muffled scream is silenced, and you feel the cloth sink deeper into your throat, choking you. Even if your mouth can not let out a sound, the surrounding flesh is painful enough that it feels like it is screaming in silent agony.

He continues to stab at you. The pain worsens as he tries to push the knife deep into your heart, but manages to instead stab into your ribs multiple times. Each removal of the knife releases a fountain of blood. Warm, fast, sleek streams bathe your skin and clothes as he drives the knife through you over and over again, without mercy. Penetrating, forceful, as if you were being violated in the worst possible way. The physical pain of the experience is nothing compared to the mental anguish of helplessness and terror you feel.

Finally, mercifully a few cuts sink between you ribs and pierce your heart. Within minutes, your world begins fading to black.

This is it. Finally.

At least that was what you hoped. No more pain, only peace.

---

Hell was real.

You hadn’t died, but you didn’t need to for you to experience a pure torment worse than death. Some twisted miracle, curse, whatever the hell it was, had saved you. You awoke who knows how long after the attack, alone and still strapped to the stone altar. You couldn’t lift your head, it roared with pain. The pure torture of regenerating, something you hadn’t felt in years. Your body burned and itched as it restitched itself back together, slowly. The process of regeneration was in some ways more gruesome than the actual attack had been. Every inch of your chest felt like it was on fire.

The cloth was still stuck deep in your throat, making it impossible to call for help, but part of you knew that even if you could have it probably wouldn’t attract attention from anyone you would want. Your only fear was that it would remain stuck in your throat for ages. The image of it resting there until your spit somehow dissolved it and allowed for you to breathe normally haunted you, as well as the image that you might die from an infection or suffocation like this a couple of times before that happens.

Your mind was so focused on this that you didn’t notice the glowing light walking around you. Sight fuzzy, you winced as the light fully entered your focus and before you stood a man, radiating light from his crimson and white body. Wings on display, emanating from his back. No further details could be caught though, as you were in too much pain to really pay attention. Despite this though, you had no doubt who this was.

Lucifer.

You were surprised. Always, your imagination had painted the devil as a creature of darkness. Even if he wasn’t a red horned creature, you had expected a creature that radiated evil and smoke. Yet Lucifer stood before you with an almost ethereal glow about him. While there was a certain flame about him, it burned with a cool, almost glorious light.

Well, you had heard someone once say that the devil portrayed himself as a creature of light. Perhaps the brightness of his form should not surprise you. A mask of goodness over his true evil intent. He leans over you, gazing at your half-alive form.

Finally, the devil reaches over to your face, gazing at you with a look that you decide must be curiosity. There is no way that it contains the pity that your mind at first thinks it glimpses. If this is the devil that the group worshiped, then there was no way any sympathy could be found in his eyes. He lowered his hand to your face, causing you to flinch, the pain exploding at your brief movement. Instead of the expected violence though, he caresses your cheek with tenderness.

“Poor little thing. Humans are such fools,” he murmurs, “The way they treat their own is downright atrocious.”

While you would push his touch away if you could, you find it impossible. The pain is too great to bother defying him. It is nothing compared to the torture your body goes through though when he lifts you into his arms. Chipped bones feel as if they are shifting through your sliced muscle and ripped flesh. You feel more blood flowing out of your body, like the lake sand would flow between the cracks in your fingers as a child. Even though you are unable to scream, you must have at least attempted to make some kind of noise as the demon holding you makes an effort to soothe you.

“Sh… It’s all right now,” you heard, “You’re going to be just fine. There’s no need to be afraid.”

It was the last thing you heard before pain consumed your mind and took you from consciousness.

[marvelmusing]

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: As Aleksander recovers from the impact of merzost on his body, you search for a way to fix the unexpected side effects and together you make plans for your lives going forward.

Warnings: mentions of sexual content and canon level violence.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The royal bedroom is in darkness as you enter. The shadows don’t scare you, despite how they hinder your vision as you manoeuvre around the pieces of furniture.

“Aleksander?” you call out gently. “My love, can you lift the shadows for me?”

“No,” he says quietly from the corner of the room. “I can’t.” At the sound of his voice, you manage to find him crouched down behind an armchair. There’s a hollowness in his eyes that makes your heart ache as you settle down onto your knees in front of him as he admits, “It isn’t just my amplification that’s gone. It’s my power too.”

“Maybe it’s just a power block. You’ve been through so much. Perhaps you simply need some rest.”

He nods, though he doesn’t seem too convinced. His gaze slowly regains its focus, and he tilts his head aside slightly as he seems to notice something on your face. He reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand as his eyes examine you.

“You haven’t aged a day.”

“What do you mean?”

“The fox was immortal.” You nod. The fox’s memories stretch to the very beginning of Ravka. “Now, you and the fox are one.”

“Aleksander, it’s been less than a year. There’s no way of noticing something like that.”

“Trust me, I would know. You haven’t aged.”

There’s an unspoken concern in his words – that, with his power gone, Aleksander is now mortal while you, with the power of the fox, are immortal. Your roles have been reversed. Tracing your hand over his arm, you entwine your fingers with his, providing his digits with a soft squeeze as you remove his hand from your face.

“I will get you your power back. I give you my word.”

»»---------------------►

Aleksander is standing in front of his desk by the window when you manage to find him. The sun is setting over the horizon, and it casts a soft orange glow over the bedroom. He places his hand over yours as you wrap your arms around his body, pressing the side of your face against his shoulder so that you can peer around to see his expression.

“How are you feeling today?” you ask.

He sighs.

“Tired of tonics.”

A sympathetic hum slips from the back of your throat.

“I know, my love. But relying on merzost has left your body deficient of nutrients.”

“You’ve been talking to the healers,” he remarks wryly, the corner of his mouth quirking as he glances down at you. A fond smile is what you give him in response.

“Of course.” Your smile falters. “You haven’t told them about the wasting sickness.”

“My power might return before the sickness worsens.”

The small sound of acknowledgement you make is distant as you think intently over his words. He is much frailer than he appears, the corecloth of his kefta creating an illusion of fullness, and you know Genya has been tailoring his face to feign an improvement in his health.

He steps out of your arms, which pulls you away from your thoughts. He circles around you before moving backwards to lean against the foot of the bed.

“I believe you made me a promise,” he remarks playfully. His smile is boyish despite how pale and drawn his face is from the strain of today. “That once you found a cure, we would spend the entire day in bed.”

“Sasha…” you whisper sadly.

“Come over here.”

You shake your head.

“No, Aleksander.”

His brows draw together, tilting his head as hurt sparks in his eyes.

“No?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And if I don’t care?”

Irritation prickles over your skin.

“Stop being such a martyr.”

His frown deepens as he argues,

“You had no issue sleeping with me in the midst of my condition.”

“Just because you aren’t in danger of imminent death anymore doesn’t mean you’re strong enough.” He begins to shake his head, dismissing your concerns. “Every time I touch you, I can feel how brittle your bones are.”

“I can be careful.”

“This isn’t something we can compromise on. I won’t risk hurting you.”

Not wanting to argue with him, you turn back towards the window. Almost all of the sunlight has gone, a cool indigo staining the sky as night draws closer. Aleksander walks across the room, sock-clad feet padding softly over the polished hardwood and thick rug.

“Have I ever told you how marvellous you look when you’re determined?”

He sits down in his chair, by your side as you continue to stare out of the window.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “Until my dying day.”

“You are not going to die,” you insist. “I won’t let you.” He presses his forehead against your spine. His hands lift the hem of your shirt up, fingers spreading eagerly over the bare skin at the small of your back. His attempts at wrangling you into bed bring a smile to your face as you turn your head back to look down at him. “You will only die, when I kill you for being so stubborn.”

He smiles, breathing out a soft laugh as he presses a kiss to the base of your spine.

“Aleksander…” you whisper. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

He remains silent for a long moment, and you begin to fear you’ve upset him. Then he speaks up in a low voice that wavers slightly with emotion.

“In past relationships, I’ve often felt pressured to make things physical, in order to keep the other person interested. It’s an old habit, which I seem to have failed to shake.” He frowns slightly, as if his own actions have surprised and puzzled him.

His explanation makes your heart ache for him.

“Aleksander… I fell for you at a time when you could barely walk a few paces before growing short of breath. I might find you attractive, but I don’t want you solely for your body.”

He nods, his throat moving as he swallows hard.

“That is hard for me to understand at times.”

A soft smile lifts the corner of your lips.

“Well, I don’t mind reminding you.”

“I want you by my side for the coronation.”

The shift in conversation confuses you, but you nod.

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you as my advisor or even as the Royal Consort,” he admits. “I want you to be my equal, my Queen.” There’s a brief pause as his eyes bounce between yours, flickering down to your lips for a moment before he adds, “My wife.”

My wife. The words make your stomach flip and give you the courage to say,

“I’ve made something for you.”

A small crease appears between his brows.

“For me?”

You nod.

Moving over towards one of the cabinets beside Aleksander’s desk, you open a cupboard, allowing the door to swing as you reach inside to remove the false back. The weight of Aleksander’s eyes on your hands is palpable and you fidget nervously with his gift.

Glancing down, you adjust some of the threads and ribbons that make up the piece of rope. Shimmering silver with purple and black – both of your colours.

“It’s… It’s for our wedding.” Embarrassment heats at your cheeks as you fumble to explain your creation. Though it seems Aleksander requires no explanation.

“Hand-fasting?”

Bashfully, you duck your head.

“I know it is quite an old tradition, but I’ve always liked the idea of tying myself to the person I want to spend my life with.”

He smiles softly.

“Is this a proposal?”

“Well, I wouldn’t object to you getting down on one knee with a ring as well,” you jest before your expression softens. “I just thought I would let you know.”

He frowns.

“Let me know what?”

“That I’ll say yes. Whenever you ask me, I’ll say yes.”

Later, the two of you are lying face to face in bed, legs entangled as you draw delicate shapes over his bare chest with your fingertips, when something crosses your mind.

“I have an idea,” you say in a low murmur. “I know you want to secure our position on the throne as soon as possible, but I’m certain you will want to do this before being crowned.”

“Do what?”

“Claim an amplifier.” He goes still and the pillow beneath his head crinkles as he straightens himself to meet your gaze directly. “From what the fox has shown me in my dreams, I think she would be well suited to you.”

“She?”

You nod.

“There’s a wolf – the stories call her koroleva volkov – which lives to the north in the forest near the permafrost.”

“The Queen of the Wolves,” he translates in a low murmur, his brows furrowed as he seems to consider your suggestion. His eyes flicker back to yours. “The fox knows her?”

You nod again.

“He picked her out for you.”

Aleksander’s expression softens and you continue to trace your fingers over his skin, mapping out the veins now blue beneath his skin instead of the black you had become accustomed to.

“I think we should journey north and find the wolf. Allow the two of you to bond in some way, like I did with the fox. Once you’ve claimed her power, I think your shadows will come back.”

“You’re certain?”

“No,” you admit with a soft sigh. “But your power isn’t gone, Aleksander. If it was, you wouldn’t be ill with the wasting sickness.”

He nods slowly.

“When do we leave?”

»»---------------------►

“We can’t survive on a dinner of mouse,” Aleksander remarks, tucking you into his side of the two of you trek through the freshly laid snow.

“I know,” you concede. “I just want to try catching one. I’ve never done it before.”

He sighs, smiling at your enthusiasm.

“Alright then. Go on.”

A smile spreads over your face before you scamper away in fox form, listening for the sound of a mouse pattering away beneath the snow. It isn’t long until you’re following the tiny scratches of paws against hard dirt. The sound of your own paws in the snow crunch lightly. For a moment, you stand still, tilting your ears aside as you listen.

Then you pounce.

The snow is hard against your snout and paws as you meet the ground, knocking you off your hunting rhythm. The momentum you’ve put into the jump is too much, sending your lower half flailing up into the air and you wiggle your tail wildly in an attempt at maintaining your balance. Ultimately, you’re unsuccessful.

Aleksander laughs loudly. Shifting back into your human form, you scrunch your face with a pout, disgruntled as you rub at the tender skin of your forehead.

“You aren’t being very supportive,” you protest from your place on the cold, snowy ground.

“My apologies, darling. You truly are a fearsome predator.”

The only response you give him is a rude gesture that makes him laugh harder. He crouches down in front of you, hooking a hand beneath your chin to examine the potential damage. When he finds none, he leans forward to kiss your forehead and nose, bringing a smile to your face.

“Give it another try.”

Tilting your head aside, you blink up at him and consider his expression.

“You think I was close?”

He kisses your temple.

“Undoubtably.”

Once again in fox form, you resume your search for a mouse. A cool breeze rustles against your fur, but you hardly feel the chill. It takes a little longer this time for you to pick up on the sound of a mouse skittering about beneath the snow.

When you do, you pause, shifting your weight onto each of your front paws. Eyes locked on the spot where you want to land, you leap upwards, keeping each of your limbs firm for impact.

When you realise you actually have a mouse in your mouth, you almost drop it as you wriggle about in the snow. Once you’re standing upright on all four paws, you drop the mouse from between your teeth and change form quickly to catch the creature in your hands. Smiling widely in triumph, you stand unsteadily and move towards Aleksander.

“Sasha! I did it.”

He grins at the sight of your excitement.

“Well done.”

He peers down at the mouse through a crack between your fingers.

“Sorry for the scare, little one,” you murmur apologetically. “I’ll let you go now.”

As you loosen your hold on the small creature, lowering it to the ground, the mouse scampers away. Lifting your head up to watch it, you notice another creature that makes you freeze in place. Aleksander doesn’t notice initially.

“Now,” he begins. “Perhaps we could move our efforts onto something more substantial for dinner? I was thinking of rabbit.”

Grasping onto his forearm, you tug on his sleeve lightly, whispering,

“Sasha.”

He turns to look at you first, studying your expression before he follows your gaze, eyes scouring over the woodland in front of you. The moment he sees it, he places his hand over yours, squeezing it with barely suppressed excitement. He steps slowly towards the wolf and apprehension settles in your chest.

“Be careful,” you warn him, gripping his sleeve again. “If it comes to a fight, I have a feeling she will take a piece of you with her.”

“A fair exchange, in my opinion,” he remarks quietly.

“Sasha.”

“I will be careful, my love,” he concedes, though you don’t quite believe him.

Her eyes are a cool silver that slide calmly between you and Aleksander. She places a paw forwards, as if to move to meet Aleksander. Then she turns tail and runs into the woods. When he moves to chase her down, you tighten your hold on him.

“Aleksander. Give her time. We’ll find her again.”

»»---------------------►

The next afternoon, you’re trekking over a fallen tree in your fox form when you see the wolf again. She surveys you from a distance, standing still like a statue. She seems to know that you aren’t an ordinary fox, but you still aren’t sure how she will react if you try to interact.

Heart hammering, you tilt your head at her, stepping closer cautiously. Her eyes lower to watch you slink over the forest floor. She still doesn’t move as you approach her.

Slowly, you begin to nudge your nose against her body. When she doesn’t react, you step even closer, nuzzling your face into the soft fur at her chest. She makes a small snuffling sound before she raises a paw to nudge at you. The two of you raise your paws, initiating a playful back and forth.

A low sound rumbles in the back of her throat and you back off instantly, fearing you might have pushed her too far. She continues to growl, her snout crinkling as she sniffs at you suspiciously and you begin to fear for your safety.

Even if you shifted back into human form, you wouldn’t be able to fight a wolf. If it comes down to a chase, you might be able to scamper up a tree before she sinks her teeth into you, but you aren’t overly optimistic about your odds.

She nudges her nose against your side, far too close to your underbelly for your liking, and you let out a small yelp of warning, curling away from her before you growl back. The wolf keeps her eyes on you, tilting her head as if pleased by your response. Her expression softens into something more amicable. She makes a small snuffing sound, almost like a dog, before settling down on her front.

Both of you keep your mouthes open, as you nip and bite at one another. While you know, from the fox’s memories, that this is how animals like him and the wolf would play together, it’s still scary to feel her teeth snap at your fur.

She nibbles gently at your ears, tugging on them lightly when she gets them between her teeth. Coiling away from her, you nudge her chest with your front paws, and she rolls onto her back easily. She bats her paws at you, which you bite playfully, slowly getting the hang of this play-fighting.

When the sun begins to lower itself towards the treetops, you give her neck a fond nuzzle before you set off to rejoin Aleksander at your camp for the evening. It isn’t long before you realise, she’s following you.

Several times you pause, turning back to look at her, giving her the opportunity to leave. She doesn’t. She stays with you until the terrain changes, opening out into the clearing where you can see Aleksander sitting by a small campfire.

At the sight of him, you set off running through the frost covered grass. He lifts his head at the sound of you approaching, a smile tugging at his lips as you hurry into his lap.

“Hello, milaya,” he says softly, scratching the space behind your ears affectionately. “Have you made some friends?”

When you shift back into human form, your head is in his lap, face turned up towards him and his smile widens when your eyes lock on his.

“One or two,” you remark with a soft laugh. Then you turn your head to look at the wolf as she paces slowly through the grass, following the path carved by you.

She seems wary at your change in appearance, but you extend your hand amicably to offer her your scent. She steps forwards cautiously, eyes flickering between you and Aleksander. Your voice is a gentle whisper as you encourage her,

“It’s alright.”

She sniffs at your wrist, nose nudging against your sleeve before she moves upwards towards you and Aleksander until she’s close enough for him to touch. He breathes out an astonished laugh as he places his hand down on her head. For a moment, he strokes her fur, his eyes flickering over every each of the marvellous creature in front of you. Then he looks back at you.

“I love you,” he says in an awe filled whisper. “You’re remarkable. I hope you know that.”

The wolf straightens herself, looking directly at Aleksander. She tilts her head, licking his fingers momentarily before she turns and moves back into the woods. The two of you remain silent as you watch her go. Once she’s out of sight, Aleksander looks back down at you.

“Why did you pick the wolf for me?”

There’s a pause as you consider his question, and you sit up as you speak.

“Wolves are strong and loyal,” you reason. Glancing down at your hand, fingers entwined with Aleksander’s, you add, “She’s been alone for so long. I thought you would understand each other.”

He cups your face between his hands, leaning forwards to kiss you soundly.

»»---------------------►

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[restinslices]

I would love to request a fic of Ares x fem reader please? Maybe based of your post of being Ares favorite mortal lover and defending her or whatever idea you may have?

I think you and someone else requested this so COME GET YA’LL JUICE.

I made this sadder than it needed to be but it’s an illness at this point. Warning for a down bad Ares. Like, OOC type of down bad

Gods are typically very predictable when it comes to love.

It's usually temporary love and honestly a mortal is lucky if it lasts more than a month. They get together, have a baby then the god moves on before the baby is even born. It sounds heartless because it is, but that's just how it was when you were immortal. You got bored very quickly and chasing after mortals gave you something to do when life got too quiet.

That's what typically happens.

Sometimes though, the gods find very special mortals.

For Hermes, it was May. For Poseidon, it was Sally. For Ares, it was you.

Ares constantly watched over you and your child, even if you never knew. He couldn't be with you and he knew this, but that didn't mean he couldn't make sure you were ok and help out occasionally. Sometimes it'd be something as small as leaving you gifts to cheer you up, and sometimes it'd be something as big as delivering “bad luck” to your boss when he was being rude.

So imagine how upset he got when he watched your new partner continue to mistreat you.

Zeus made himself very clear.

Absolutely DO NOT commit any acts of violence against a particular mortal named Trent.

Ares thought about listening. Then Ares thought about the fact that he was willing to allow a war to happen between Zeus, Hades and Poseidon and he decided that since he's done a lot worse, a few felonies wouldn't be so bad in the grand scheme of things.

~~

The arguing made Ares pause before he could knock.

He heard your voice. “In my bed Trent?! Are you serious?!”.

The male groaned in annoyance, “If you can't accept that relationships have hiccups then maybe you don't actually care for me! I'll leave you alone right now if that's what you want! It's just fuck me, right?! After all I do?!”.

“What do you do?!”.

“I told you I had demons I was fighting!”

“Is the demon monogamy?”

He huffed and he swung the door open while going on and on about the so called demons he was fighting that you wouldn't understand, and if Ares had Hades powers, he'd send him some actual demons to worry about.

His eyes landed on Ares, “who are you?”.

You came into view right behind Trent and your eyes widened.

It was strange. Ares hardly paid attention to little details when it came to someone's appearance. After a while his eyes skimmed over people, and even if a mortal managed to catch his attention, he usually forgot what they looked like before the week ended. You were different though and if this is what Poseidon and Hermes felt then he understood why it was so hard for them to let their mortals go.

He wasn't necessarily an artistic guy but he could pick out the specific shade of your eyes, even if it was the most basic eye color. He memorized the shape of your hair and its color. He memorized certain mannerisms or habits you had, no matter how small. If someone blindfolded him, he was sure he'd still be able to find you just by hearing your laughter. He'd pat the area around him as he walk towards you and once he felt your hand in his, he'd know he was home. And sure, there was a mortal out there that had the same texture on their fingertips but he didn't care about them. He cared about you and even if you thought you weren't special, he would strongly disagree. Mortals didn't stay in his mind. You did. That meant something.

But Trent didn't seem to understand how special you were. He didn't understand that you were doing him a service just by standing near him and it made him angrier than he expected.

“This is Ares”, you said. It was embarrassing for him to admit how much he loved how his name sounded on your tongue, so he never admitted it. At least not out loud.

“Like the Zodiac Aries?”. He was going to correct him and make several snarky comments but you spoke before him.

“A-R-E-S. Ares. Like the God of War. Spirit of Battle. Mars for the Romans” you explained and the smirk that formed on his face further proved how down bad he was for you. The shit was embarrassing.

“I'm the father of her child” Ares added and Trent did not look pleased. He looked back and forth between the two of you and scoffed.

“You've been cheating on me, haven't you?”. He didn't even give you a chance to respond. “You're on my ass about what I did but you've already been whoring around. Just like I fucking thought”

“My kid is eight” you said simply. Ares hated that although you kept stepping back, he kept moving towards you. His shoulders were tall and proud, like he was trying to intimidate you into admitting something that wasn't true.

“I bet you're still sleeping with him or any other man that looks at you! I should've known better than to dedicate myself to a single mother. You're all just cheap sl-” his sentence was stopped abruptly when Ares grabbed onto his shoulder. At first Ares didn't realize how hard he was squeezing his shoulder, but once he noticed the sounds coming out of his mouth and saw his pathetic attempts to pry his hand off of him, Ares squeezed harder.

“She missed a very crucial part” his hand squeezed harder still and he pushed down, making the man hit his knees on the ground hard. “Ares, God of War. Spirit of Battle. Protector of Mistreated Women”, he glanced at you then looked back down at the man clenching his shoulder under him. “Have you been mistreating this woman?”.

Trent looked at you but all that did was fuel Ares’ with more rage. The nerve to treat you so cruelly for months then look to you for help. He yanked his shoulder towards him, earning a shout from him. “Don't look at her. Look at me”.

You placed your hand over his, “let him go”. You spoke softly as if you cared for this speck of dirt that probably wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. Why? Why do this for him when there are millions of other men out there you could be with? Men that would treat you 100x better than Trent had. Men that would shower you with the praises you deserve and stand by you loyally and ask about your day and do whatever other bullshit mortals do that Ares would do with you if he weren't a god.

Trent had you but he didn't deserve you. Area didn't have you but he deserved you. The idea of Ares deserving something instead of just being given it was strange and foreign and even though gods couldn't get headaches, this is the closest he's felt to it.

“Let him go” you repeated slowly.

“I should get somewhere high before I do”.

“Hilarious” you said, although he wasn't joking. “You're gonna hurt him”. That was the plan. “I'm being serious, Ares. Let him go”.

“And then?”

“Then you leave”. But he stays? You were willing to let this man get away with all he's done within your months of dating and shoo the father of your child away?

“I should kill him anyway. He knows too much”.

He was right. Mortals that didn't have demigods weren't supposed to know about the gods existence, so technically killing him wouldn't be completely out of left field. Technically he somewhat had the right to. That's what his deluded mind was telling him anyway. And even if the man on his knees didn't know what he did now, he still deserved a form of punishment.

Your minds seemed to be linked, because you shook your head at him, like you were telling him “no. Don't do that”. You crouched down in front of Trent who was still desperately trying to free his shoulder. “You want him to let go don't you?”

“Well obviously!”. Ares didn't like the attitude and he was going to push down hard enough to dislocate his shoulder, but you put your hand back on top of his and shook your head again.

“He will. First you have to swear to something. Make an oath. Swear that you'll never come back here. Swear that you'll never talk to me again and you'll never mistreat another woman again. Swear on the River Styx. If you break this oath, something terrible will happen. Won't it Ares?”. You looked up at him, expecting an answer. Ares didn't know the answer though. He knew what happened to gods and demigods but regular average civilians? He assumed it was something bad, but he didn't know how bad. Since he didn't have a solid answer, he just voiced what he wanted to do.

“If you break your oath, I'll find you. I'll tear your legs off so you can't run, then your arms so you can't crawl away. I'll give you medical attention so you don't die and I'll make your pathetic form into a punching bag for when I get bored and trust me, I get bored often”. Ares couldn't see how he looked but he knew he looked scary enough by the way the guy shuddered and looked away from him. He even started to cry, which Ares found ridiculous. He wasn't crying earlier. He was on top of the world thinking punishment wouldn't come and even now he wouldn't truly be punished.

The guy repeated everything you said in between disgusting sobs. He swore on the River Styx and Ares was sure he didn't even know what that truly meant. He just wanted to be let go. Ares didn't want to let go but after some more coaxing from you, he let go reluctantly. Trent ran out the house, still sobbing and holding onto his shoulder.

“Thanks for that” you said when you rose back to your feet, but it didn't sound like an actual thank you. You sounded annoyed. “He'll squeal but no one will believe him about being attacked by a god. He'll drive himself crazy or get himself sent somewhere. He'll always check for you behind him. Is that enough punishment for you?”. Ares wanted some sort of physical punishment right then and there, but he'd either deal with him when you weren't looking or decide this will do. Depended on his mood later on.

“Why'd you do that? Now he won't come back!”

“You made him swear never to come back”, but you didn't seem to like him pointing out that fact. You rolled your eyes,

“Yeah, because I knew you'd break him next time you saw him”. Good point, but why did you still want him around?

“You deserve better”

“And what's better? Someone like you? Someone who pops in from time to time? Someone our child hardly knows? If that's what I deserve, well… I guess I must not deserve much. Maybe I did something wrong in a past life”. Your words cut deep. They cut deep because you had a point. Ares put you in a terrible situation. A lonely one. He made you a single mother and although he didn't talk to mortals often, he was still able to pick up on how mortals felt about single mothers. The unnecessary shame that came with having a child but with no father, even if it wasn't their fault. A large chunk of the mistreated women he protected were single mothers themselves. There was an unnecessary amount of shame thrown onto their shoulders. They could've left a terribly abusive relationship, but all of it was still their fault. They were questioned why they couldn't just stick it out, because surely a child with no father was worse than a child with an abusive father who could “get better” if they just “stopped making problems”. He hated it. Now it was hitting him that he helped place this shame on your shoulders. He never said anything but he still decided to have a child with you even though he knew he'd never be able to stay. He wanted to say he made a mistake, but could it really be a mistake if it all meant he had you in his life even if it was only for fleeting moments?

“You don't need him” he got out finally but you had a counter.

“I need someone. I need someone here. I-I… listen I know Trent can be a handful but it's better to have a handful than nothing at all. You have no idea how lonely it gets and even with him it's still lonely because I can't talk to him about any of this stuff. Do you know how exhausting it is moving a child from school to school? Some schools won't even take her! Says she has disciplinary issues and I should do home schooling but how is that possible if I have to work so we don't end up on the streets?!” your voice got louder and if this was anyone else he'd make them apologize for raising their voice at a god. He didn't interrupt you though. Each word was like twisting a knife inside him and he figured that you should be able to decide when to pull it out.

“Other moms don't want their children anywhere near ours. They think she'll be a bad influence. Some of them aren't bold enough to say it, but I can tell what they're thinking! They treat her like some terrible disease their children will catch and I can't explain why she is the way she is! I can't say 'oh well her dad is a god and the monsters she draws are things she's seeing on the street and you can't see it but honestly she's in more danger than you’. I have to say 'they're just pictures. She's just creative!’ ” You began pacing and rubbing your hands together. “I'm alone and sometimes I don't wanna be alone. Having another adult here keeps the walls from closing in. Ugh. What type of mother am I? I can't explain any of this to my child and I can tell how alone she feels too. I think… I think I'm her only friend. She hears what people say about her. She thinks something is wrong with her. She thinks she's a burden. What eight year old thinks like this?”, You sat on the couch and put your head in your hands. “I'm a failure…”.

“Sad” wasn't the word Ares would use to describe how he felt. Maybe not even “sorrowful”. There had to be a better word to explain how he ached watching you fall apart. Ares wasn't good at personal talks, but he sat beside you and spoke

“You are not a failure”. It was simple, but he hoped it worked anyway.

You looked over at him with an expression he knew would be imprinted into his mind for eternity. “Then what am I?”.

He could go on and on about what you were and how much you meant, but he knew he didn't have much time. Zeus probably already knew he was here. He was nosey like that and he'd do anything to make sure everyone followed his lead. He wished he could tear him apart but Ares knew better than to voice any of the malicious thoughts he had or to try and harm him. Maybe a time would come, but it wasn't now.

“You're doing your best with the heavy burden I put on you”

“She's not a burden” you said quickly. “I'm just not sure what to do anymore. Everything I do seems like the wrong choice”. Ares wanted to approach a topic you seemed to despise but either he was predictable or that mind link was a real thing because next you said “No”.

“That camp-”

“Your family will mold her into what they want her to be and respectfully your family… uhh…” he got it. The gods didn't take kindly to insults and he wouldn't be surprised if you finished your sentence and then was magically turned into a pig.

“She needs to be a warrior. Camp will attempt to make her a warrior”. You didn't seem pleased.

He hated your stubbornness. He didn't watch other demigods as much, but even he knew their mortal mother's tended to die because of their own stubbornness. They'd refuse to send them to camp and when their child realized who they were and the monsters came running… well… there was a good chance everyday struggles wouldn't be a problem anymore.

“She'll realize at some point and you can't protect her”.

“I know” you admitted. The defeat was all over your face and in the heavy breath you took. You laid your head on his arm and intertwined your fingers together. “She's gone for tonight. She's staying with my mother down the street. She's the only one that takes her in sometimes. Can you stay over tonight?”.

“What are you suggesting?”

“You're the furthest thing from funny. I'm not having one of your kids again, are you insane?”. Although you said he wasn't funny, and he wasn't joking in the slightest, you both managed to laugh.

“Seriously, can you stay?”. The sky was clear and sunny but thunder rumbled.

If Ares was granted three wishes from a genie, he'd use all of them to watch Zeus die a horrible miserable death over and over again. What harm would one night do?

Well… a demigod could come out of one night but if Zeus didn't like it, he didn't have to watch.

He knew that argument wouldn't work and he didn't have to speak for you to know the answer. You scooted away from him and you took a sudden interest in the floor.

“I would if I could-”

“I know. I understand”. Another thing he hated about you. You were too understanding. He wanted you to scream at him. He wanted you to scream about how much you hated him and how he ruined you. He wanted you to swear at him and tell him to never step foot near you again. Anything that would make separating easier.

“Ares” you spoke, breaking the silence that filled the room. “If I agree to having her sent to camp, will you watch over her? Can you send one of those- what were they again? Oh! Satyrs. Can you send one of those and make sure they both get to camp safely?”

He didn't have to think. “Yes”.

“And claim her. Maybe not too soon though. I remember when I went to camp people got jealous when their parents would send them letters. I know my camp wasn't a god camp but you know what I mean. I just don't want her to catch unwanted attention”.

“Of course”

“Oh and one more thing. I know I'm asking for a lot but can you give me to the end of the school year. I don't know if she'll want to come back home or if it'll even be safe and-”

“You want time”. You didn't respond but he knew the answer. He knew how hard letting go would be for you and the thought that meeting you was a mistake crossed his mind again. You deserved to have a regular family and a regular husband that you had regular conversations with. Not this.

Thunder rumbled again.

“You have to go” you didn't sound like you wanted him to leave and he didn't want to leave either but he knew he had no choice. He stood up,

“I'll see you again. I promise”

“You've made enough promises, you don't have to do that. You can…” the words seemed like they burned to get out, “you can move on”.

He wanted to argue and say that he'd never truly move on from you. That you were the most memorable mortal he'd been with and he had no plans on leaving you be, but then he realized how selfish that was. Damming you to a life of sitting and waiting until he had time to see you. The thought of you sitting home alone waiting for any sign of him, signs that he wouldn't be able to give as often as you needed made him feel an immense amount of guilt.

“You make me an oath” he started, “I don't know what happens when mortals break an oath they make on the River Styx, so swear on anything that's important to you that you'll find a guy who deserves and appreciates you. Not another guy like before. Not some guy to fill in the empty space in here. I mean a man who will treat you right until you become just a memory”. Knowing he'd never be that man filled him with a burning sensation he couldn't quite explain. Some people would say “I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy” but Ares wasn't like that. He'd only wish this on his worst enemies. Not someone he got into an argument with, or someone he didn't like. Only the enemies that made him spit when he heard their name.

“I swear on our daughter” was all you said and it was all he needed to hear. He didn't give you a kiss or hug you goodbye. It'd make it too hard to leave. He just left. He closed the door behind him like nothing had happened and left you behind.

There was a small part of him that selfishly wanted you to break that oath because that'd mean he'd get to see you again, even if it was only to commit violence. The bigger part of him knew that was selfish. You needed to keep true to that oath, even if it would destroy him to watch you call someone else the love of your life eventually.

This could’ve been a heeheehaha jokey thing but I’m an asshole so here we are. I hope it’s clear that I write requests in the order I get them btw. This isn’t towards the anon, I’m just saying to everyone if a request is taking a hot minute I’m either ill, busy, or working on one that came before yours. I also try to do one requests a day to keep things spread out. Posting all the requests on one day will upset me and my homegirls.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi, follower and fan of your work here (particularly all the touch starved stuff)! Send me to jail if necessary, but for ages I've been wanting to see someone write this premise and I'd be delighted to see a snippet of your take on it: demon villain and angel hero at odds. Demon villain is ordered to seduce their angel hero, angel hero is ordered to make demon villain fall in love with them. They both succeed. Only if you think that'd be fun to write? Please and thank you!

There were bruises on the angel’s neck. The demon didn’t want to believe that it was possible in the first place. Two very terrible causes ran through their mind. Either, the angel had had a great time with someone else or someone or something had hurt them.

“You’re not in the mood for games, are you?”

“I…” The demon stared at the blue and purple shapes. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

“We could make out, if you want to,” the angel said. They were so lovely. So divine and beautiful, it touched the demon in all the right places. And seeing the bruises…

They’d lived for centuries, known creatures far beyond counting. And yet, and yet—

“No,” the demon breathed. “I don’t want that right now.”

They couldn’t stop staring. Either the angel didn’t notice or they didn’t care. Whatever it was, they continued to read in their book. Sometimes, the demon imagined a mortal life, dying when they were old and grey. And sometimes they imagined the angel would be there with them.

“Is something wrong, love?” the angel asked. They’d been spending time for half a year now. And the demon knew their plan had succeeded. The angel was theirs. Not really, but it was so close. Maybe it was just desire or the thrill of acting against the rules. Maybe all of that was why they’d felt happy for once. Unbound by any services. Living for their own desires.

“Did someone hurt you?” they asked quietly. The angel finally looked up from the heavy book.

“Why do you ask?”

“I didn’t know angels could get hurt like this,” the demon admitted. “I’ve only seen angels with swords through their chests and even then…some of them were still alive.”

“Violence isn’t the only thing that can hurt you,” the angel said. The book had their interest once again. It was a book about spells. About rituals.

The demon swallowed.

“What do you mean by that?” they asked. Their hands were shaking and they felt something they hadn’t felt before in their eternal life. It stung.

“Angels are closer to humans than to god. Maybe there is a reason for that. Maybe that’s our torment.” They closed the book gently and looked at their lover. As they tilted their head, the demon got a closer look at the abundance of marks. “Maybe we’re humans that are condemned to be immortal.”

“That’s not answering my question,” the demon remarked. They looked at their marvellous face. It was perfect through and through. They were beautiful.

“Other things than violence can hurt. Love can hurt.”

“What do you mean?” the demon insisted. Now, the demon was alarmed. Love can hurt you. What did that mean? “Who hurt you?”

“You did.” And that made them hold their breath. The demon stared at them. It was easy to imagine a perfect life without all of the suffering. Living in this modern world peacefully was a fantasy they allowed themselves often. But actually living like a human sounded horrible. All the tragedies, the loss…

“I don’t understand.”

“When I’m in great distress or feeling other very big feelings, my body starts to hurt itself. I guess that prevents me from being human. It could be part of god’s creation. I have to admit, I envy them.”

“And what are you feeling right now? Why is it my fault?” The demon knew they had to keep their voice down. Humans wanted their libraries to be quiet. The angel breathed in audibly.

“I am grieving right now,” they said, chewing on their bottom lip.

“Why are you—”

“Why do you care, really?” they asked suddenly, as if they were annoyed. “We’re just pretending after all, aren’t we?”

They were not.

[practically-an-x-man]

Whatever Keeps You Around (Rick Flag x Eris)

Summary: Based on this prompt, Eris runs into an immortal surprise in a very mundane place. (Title from First Time by Hozier)

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: Mild jealousy, mild possessive themes, some mentions of violence.

____

"Go see if they have any bread you like, hon."

Eris nodded, ducking past him and half-jogging up to the shelf of artisanal bread in the corner of the store. This was why he'd picked this store, even though it was small and pricey and overly-organic: Eris claimed it was the only place in New Orleans that made bread the right way, whatever they in their mind deemed the right way.

All Rick knew was that it cost about eight dollars a pop and was loaded with spices he couldn't identify, and that Eris could go through three loaves a week if he let them. Usually he did. The one perk to working for Amanda Waller was the paycheck, and that allowed him at least enough wiggle room to buy the right kind of bread.

She jogged back up to him, two loaves wrapped in paper in her arms, just as Rick had finished thanking the deli clerk for his cold cuts and cheeses. Eris tucked the bread into the shopping cart almost delicately and promptly plucked the deli bags from his hands to inspect his selections.

"Oven-roasted turkey? Not the herb kind?"

"Outta stock. I've got thyme and stuff back at the house if it really bothers you," Rick replied, "What kind of bread did you pick out?"

"Honey-rosemary and something they call rustic medley," Eris muttered, "I'll be the judge of that."

"Sounds pretty good," he agreed, "Maybe we can make butter to go with it."

Eris tilted his head, something Rick stupidly misinterpreted as a lack of understanding.

"I saw it online, you just put heavy cream and a little salt in a mason jar, shake it u-"

"I'd be willing to bet I'm more familiar with making butter than you are, Flag." Eris cut him off, sharp as always, "But why?"

"I dunno. Seems like fun."

"You have a real strange idea of fun. And this is coming from someone who lived through tapestry being the popular hobby." they jeered, but tossed a carton of heavy cream into the cart as they passed the dairy case. Rick tried to hide his smile. If anyone was the definition of 'actions speak louder than words', it was Eris.

He stayed close to Rick's side as they wandered the store, occasionally tossing things into the cart on what looked like pure whim. Cans of tomato soup, the ones Rick remembered mentioning were his favorite because they reminded him of his childhood, made their way in alongside pretzels and peanut butter and bars of high-cacao baking chocolate. It was far too bitter for his tastes, at least in anything other than baked goods, but Eris could snack on it like a Hershey bar. She liked it for the same reason she liked the artisanal bread, he thought. Nostalgia, or the closest thing to nostalgia they could find.

"Lasagna tonight? Or should we just find something to stick in the oven?" Rick asked, frowning at the prices of the pasta boxes on the shelves. Eris was back at his side in a moment, moving so quickly and silently that he would have jumped if he wasn't used to it.

"Hm. Neither. Make your pot pie." he decided, and Rick felt him lean in against his side, "I have a taste for it."

His mother's recipe, the one he'd tried so hard to get right after her death, now lived on as a favorite in the mind of a centuries-old metahuman.

That one made him feel good.

He knew Eris wasn't one for public affection, but he still couldn't resist wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of their head. He pulled back quickly, before Eris could wriggle away or complain about looking soft, and waved a hand at the produce aisle they'd left in their wake.

"Go grab me a bag of baby carrots and some green beans, then," he said, then paused and corrected, "In a bag. Not just loose green beans."

"I know that, smartass." Eris huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she walked away. Rick suppressed a chuckle.

There was someone else in the produce aisle, apparently trying to decide between a starfruit and a cherimoya. They were half a head taller than Eris, with wavy brown hair halfway down their back and a flowing blue sundress swishing around their knees.

Rick didn't pay them much mind, and was about to turn and grab a can of biscuits when Eris froze in his tracks.

"Julius?"

The taller figure whipped around so fast it must have given them whiplash, and their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Rick could see, even from afar, that their features had the same strangely archaic look as Eris' own, though perhaps a continent and a few centuries apart.

"Oh my- Eris?" they stammered, then gestured vaguely at themself, "And it's- er, Wisteria now. Wisty."

"Wisty." Eris repeated, as if testing out the name, "You're... very not dead, for someone three hundred years old."

"Made a deal with a witch a while back. And you're... very tame for how I remember you."

That made a grin flash across Eris' face, quick and sharp and promising only dark things.

"Try me."

But Wisty didn't flinch. She just smiled right back, though this one was nostalgic, almost soft.

The thought struck Rick like a bolt of lightning.

Eris had a type.

Underneath the flowing fabric of her dress, Wisty had to be at least as tall as Rick himself was, and just as stacked with muscle. Old scars littered what bare skin was visible around her clothing, like she'd been a fighter in a past life- or perhaps still was. And she knew not to flinch at those shark-smiles Eris threw at her. Just like Rick did.

The thought made something strange bubble up inside him. He wasn't sure he liked it. As strange and twisted as Eris' affections could be, he'd never before had competition for those affections. It was actually one of the best things about being with them, knowing they'd always drift back to him at the end of all the chaos.

It wasn't Wisteria's arrival alone that had him so tense. What really got him was the set of Eris' posture as he spoke to her: leaned back slightly on his heels, shoulders loose, head tilted ever-so-slightly in curiosity. Casual. Relaxed. The only time he'd ever seen Eris truly relaxed was when they were alone with him.

"We should catch back up." Wisty decided, a smile slowly growing on her face, "Go... spar like the old times or something. I'm a lot tougher than I used to be."

"I don't doubt it." Eris said, their spine automatically straightening at the promise of a good challenge.

He deserved this, Rick thought. This was some sort of cosmic payback for those two years he spent pushing her aside in favor of June, for snapping at all the times they suggested making him into a metahuman like them - it was all to keep him safe, to keep him around.

Well, here was someone who'd stuck around. Who'd played the long game, the centuries-long game, the way Rick was always so afraid to commit to. Who could hold their own against Eris, when she still had to pull her punches against him.

"What do you think? My lance and your spear, or hand-to-hand?" Wisty asked, playfully throwing up her fists with a broad grin. Eris returned the gesture, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was like he'd forgotten Rick was there, just ten feet back. And even as much as he wanted to call out, to remind them... he couldn't move. All he could do was watch it all unravel before him, the can of biscuits still held tight in one hand. Suddenly his mom's old recipe didn't seem to matter much.

"It'll be like before. You and me," Wisty said, "The old war god and the king's footsoldier."

Then there was a different kind of tension in Eris' posture. The shift was sudden, her chin lifted and her shoulders drawn back, all joviality transformed into something more guarded.

"I'm with someone." he said, each word crisply spaced, and brushed past Wisty with smooth, disciplined steps. They grabbed a plastic bag and shoved a handful of green beans into it, pausing only to pluck a few wrinkled and undesirable vegetables from the lot and toss them back. Wisteria turned, fixing them with a tilted expression.

"You told me you wouldn't love another. You told me love was too painful. You told me... that I was the last one."

Eris snatched a bag of baby carrots, holding them tight in her hand as she turned.

"I was wrong." they said, chin set and eyes blazing, "And if you do a damn thing to him, if you hurt him thinking that'll bring me back to you, I'll kill you where you stand. And I will feel no remorse."

With that, he stormed his way back to Rick and tossed the vegetables into the shopping cart.

"You were staring." they muttered, taking the can of biscuits from his hand and dropping it into the cart alongside the rest of the groceries. Then, to his surprise, they folded their fingers into his own. For Eris, that was the equivalent of a public strip tease. Rick gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, I know. Couldn't help it." he admitted, knowing better than to try and duck around it, "First time I've ever seen one of your old friends. Didn't realize there was anyone else... like me."

"She wasn't like you." Eris huffed, ducking around his arm to give the cart a brisk shove, "Nobody's like you."

"It's alright if she was." Rick argued, "I know I'm not the only person you've loved, doll. That's okay."

Eris opened his mouth to respond, then reconsidered and shook his head. It must've been a lot to explain, or something they couldn't bear to speak in such public company. Their posture was still tense, shoulders stony, and they didn't spare so much as a single glance back at the produce aisle.

"Nobody's like you." she just repeated, even more set and sullen. Rick decided there were two ways he could take that: a sign that this love was real, or a sign that the pattern would end up repeating itself in a few years. He decided to take it as the former. The latter, true as it might be, felt far too pessimistic.

"Rome!" a voice called from behind them, and finally Eris turned. Wisteria had caught up, and fire a glance between the two of them. Rick met her eyes calmly, and found something strange swimming there. She returned her gaze to Eris, unflinching. "A hundred years. Rome. Then we'll have our fight."

Rick could hear the other half of her words: because he won't be around by then. Maybe he should have been offended by the implications. He didn't bother. He'd always known there would be someone after him. He didn't expect to meet that someone, but... this was life with Eris. He'd learned to get used to things like this.

"Fine." Eris agreed, though the firm look never left her eyes, "I will meet you on the steps of the Colosseum in one hundred years exactly. We will have our fight."

Their grip tightened on his hand unexpectedly, right on the verge of being painful. Wisteria's eyes fell straight to it, and she frowned a little. Eris must not have been any more affectionate in their prior life.

"But you will get no love from me then." they concluded, "They will bury my heart when they bury him."

Rick saw hurt bloom across Wisty's face, a shocked and helpless sort of pain, but Eris just spun and gave the cart another brutal shove towards the checkout lanes. Rick found himself pausing an extra moment, looking into Wisty's shockingly crestfallen eyes and debating an apology.

In the end, he just shut his mouth and trailed after Eris, leaving Wisty where she stood. He had a sense that speaking to her would only make things worse. It was better just for him to be, in her mind, some speechless nameless thing at Eris' heels. It was probably safer for the both of them.

He caught up to Eris just shy of the checkout lanes, right as they set a rotisserie chicken in the front basket of the cart. She glanced up at him as he approached and offered him something like a smile. It was a little pointed, a little irritated, but he didn't mind that too much.

"You're mine." she muttered, possessive like a wolf to its mate, "Until they put you in the ground, you're mine."

"I love you too, wartime."

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙄𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚

WICKED EYES

This is the interlude between Wicked Hearts and Wicked Eyes. You MUST read Wicked Hearts or else you will be spoiled while reading this short briefing of what happens to the reader.

Author's Note: This is a POC-friendly, self-indulgent dark romance with NSFW themes, descriptions of violence, gore, and unintentional but time-appropriate racism and sexism. The reader is canonically black but written in a way that those from all walks of life can enjoy.

Dividers

Read Wicked Hearts

You took a deep breath. Your eyes lingered around the room as you tried to figure out what words to say. The sofa beneath you was comforting—distracting almost. The silence of the room made you feel at ease enough to take a nap. “Erm. I…” You began. “I’m amazed at how much I’ve been able to do all of this time. I’ve met so many people and I’ve made so much music that I never thought people would enjoy.” A small smile graced your features. Your hands stayed folded on your lap as your gaze went towards the center of the ceiling above you. A voice invaded your ears.

“So, would you say that you’re grateful that Dio Brando turned you into a vampire?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the question. Your head snapped towards the voice, almost offended at the wording until you remembered that this was your therapist. You calmed down, frowning slightly before lowering your eyes to your lap. “N-No. I wouldn’t say I’m grateful, I’m just…” You trailed off. “I’ve just tried to look for the good in all of this.” You told the woman. She wore a lab coat that had the “Speedwagon Foundation” logo embroidered onto it. It’s been around 50 years since the last time you saw Dio. 50 years you’ve spent as a vampire too. You needed to take on different identities as a singer to get away with such a thing. Eventually, everyone would know something was wrong with you if you didn’t.

You accepted Erina’s request to come to New York and you’ve been here ever since. You couldn’t say it was too different from England. The people were still horrible towards you. You were always put down for being a woman and for that same reason, men believed they had a chance with you. 

And they didn’t like taking no for an answer.

What possessed a man to get violent when a woman rejects their advances? Only God knows.

“I see.” The female therapist sighed as she took notes of the things you were saying. “Do you hold any resentment for Dio or would all be forgiven at this point in time?” Her questions made you shake your head slightly. “He can’t be forgiven but I want to believe that he’s learned since then.”

“What about you? Would you be able to forgive yourself?”

“U-um. Yes. Maybe.”

You looked at the clock that had been ticking in the corner of the room. It was rather easy to tune it out. You’d been in there an hour already. It was time to go. The fabric of the sofa you were was audible as you stood. “I guess that’ll be all for today. I’ll see you here next week.” The therapist stood from her chair as well, closing her notepad and gathering your things. “Yeah.” You sighed before pursuing your lips. It’s really been so long and you’ve been mildly scarred from that night. Your immortality was a reminder of how powerless you truly were against him. No amount of fame or fortune you acquired from performing made you feel better after a while. 

Today was the day you would be traveling back to England to visit your mother’s resting place. It’s been a long time. Maybe 30 years? You couldn’t tell but you would probably be grateful to your mother until the end of time. She taught you so many valuable skills. It helped you figure out life so much faster. 

You visited your mother and wanted to stay there for a while before members of the Speedwagon Foundation came barging in to give you the phone. Someone was calling you?

You accepted the call to hear your great nephew, Joseph, on the other end of the line.

“Hello-“

“GREAT AUNT (Y/N)!!!” 

“J-Joseph? Why are you yelling? Is something wrong? I told you that I was leaving New York for personal-“

“I know, I know, I know but you won’t BELIEVE the trauma I had to endure just now, all for the sake of blah blah blah and then Straizo actually used the mask to turn HIMSELF into a vampire, blah blah blah”

As you took in the information, you didn’t know at all what to make of it. You knew Joseph wouldn’t like or be vile enough to play such a prank on you. 

“W-Wait, so you fought something called…Pillar Men? JoJo, I need you to slow down. You know what? I shouldn’t have left. I should have come with you on this little adventure of yours!”

“NO! NO!! The Pillar men EAT vampires. If they got to you Granny Erina would’ve been SO angry with me!” 

“Good heavens! Joseph, I truly don’t know what you’re on about but you have me worried, I’m coming home with the Speedwagon employees.”

The years went by so quickly after that. Joseph began to grow up. He married a girl he met on his adventure that sounded like make-believe. They had a cute little daughter named Holly, who seemed to gravitate toward Japanese culture. Shortly after that, Erina passed away. You attended her funeral with the rest of the family. She was the only thing keeping tied to this family for so long. You stuck around as a family friend but as time went on, the common knowledge of you being a vampire and your connections with Dio became less common. It was hidden from Holly.

Holly had a son as well. You didn’t take any time out to go and met him for the first time. So much more was going on in your life now. Your songs began playing on the radio, as singing had become your most successful career! The late 80s were such a dream. You had watched the world grow and evolve from what it used to be. You felt like…a princess. You were adored for your beauty and voice. 

During your performance for the night, it was interrupted by Speedwagon employees. This has never happened before. It must’ve been an emergency. Fans were outraged while others became sad. Why did their favorite singer get ushered off stage by a bunch of men in uniforms? This was the only time they could see you in person.

As you were being driven away, you had been informed of something…

Something you wouldn’t believe.

Something that you’d never hear in a million years.

There was a coffin found on a boat with a lot of dead men. It had “DIO” written above the latch. The men were drained in the same manner you saw Dio drain the woman in front of your eyes over a hundred years ago. 

If Dio was back, you needed to be as far away as possible. That’s why they sent the men to get you.

But it was too late.

Your scent was intoxicating to the vampire and he would rest at nothing to find you. The vehicle you were in was attacked and after that, there was nothing you could do for the men who were tasked with protecting you. Dio was much stronger than before and you couldn’t tell why. 

Dio only agreed not to kill more people if you came with him to Egypt.

Dio was alive and well. 

He never died.

[villainsimpqueen]

Eternal Bloodlines

Adriana tepes/ Alucard x Male Dhampire reader

This fanfic is for 18+ Audience's due to it containing gorey themes and later on smut.

Also available on A03

chapter 6

And fuck,

Wasn't he just a stunning sight to see?

For a Man, he was as beautiful as any fine woman.

"I will blast your head off before your fangs even dare grace his neck."

You blinked now the woman moved behind the blonde haired man.

He made a slight noise before grabbing the brunette haired man's arm, twisting it hard causing him to yelp, dropping his blade and the blonde turned moving closer to the woman baring his fangs.

"I thought you saw me as your messiah." He had a smooth voice,

Yet it didn't fall into your ears like honey, it didn't soothe your soon boiling blood as you saw the woman's eyes widen some, hesitancy and fear filling them as she took a step back.

"I-"

You weren't seeing the speaker woman and the blonde headed vampire.

You were seeing an image of a woman you had thought you had forgotten.

How her eyes looked at you with fear as a vampire had her neck between his teeth. Had thrown his immortal power over her. How he had taken her life from herself and from her young son.

Such sick power over a woman who was so kind towards you.

You felt your heel hurtle into something hard with force to break through stone, a crunching of bone breaking under your boot and the sight of gold being flung away into the crumbling brick and slamming into a column away.

A gasp echoing in your ears as your hand wrapped delicately around a warm sleeved arm as you moved her behind you.

You're through rumbling with a growl that bites through your own two fanged lips as you bared your own towards the man.

"I dont give a damn what she sees you as," You snarled out, meeting sunrise eyes looking at you in stunned surprise. Your hand twirling your staff to your ax as you had it ready.

"You come near her again and the hunter won't have to worry about ripping out your heart, There will be nothing to rip it out of."

You would kill him, before you allowed him to kill this woman. Her people were kind, and in turn that means she was kind as well. Violence isn't the speaker's way, so her threat would have mostly been a bluff, a fear tactic. But fear tactics from humans don't strike fear into vampires.

It's laughable at best.

But a vampire threatening another?

That wasn't laughable.

"...You're like a beacon for vampires." The hunter groaned out and you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was warm.

"I didn't know he was one…" The woman spoke but your eyes remained on the sunrise ones.

They moved as their carrier got back up.

"Surprising, Never thought a vampire would care about some humans." He spoke, his smooth voice not waving you from your stance.

"Much less willing to protect them."

You snarled.

"I only care about the woman." You clarified. "Don't give three shits about the piss smelling one."

You could see movement in your side vision and you felt the hand slide against your shoulder blades, the woman moving.

"Trevor dont." Her words cut and you spared a glance towards the human man before cutting back to the vampires.

The vampire's movements were far more important than the hunters.

"He is no different than that one." The hunter states, hands moving to a long rope. A whip then.

"He is. I know him" She speaks moving to your side, seeming to block the hunters path by your side. "He protected my family and he is still protecting me now, I will not let you hurt him."

Trusting

You didn't know why she was trusting you, You could easily devour her just like the sunrise eyes vampire could.

It was only the promise that you wouldn't harm speakers and would help them when asked that kept her safe from your hunger.

You didn't need protecting, yet she would put herself in harm's way too?

You glanced towards her to see the back of her head.

If it comes to it, you will be the one leaving these halls alive.

"He will kill you, Sypha." The man told her his eyes were moving between her and yours.

Untrusting, Smart.

It was wise to never trust a vampire.

Yet your eyes were met with bright ocean blue ones as she stared into them.

"He wouldn't." She said almost entirely confidently in her words.

"You wouldn't Y/n?"

Yes You would.

Is what you would do had she met you a year ago when all you cared was filling your never dying starvation. When your tongue yearned for daily village amounts of fresh Human blood. When you were nothing but an animal against your bloodlust.

But as you stared into those blue eyes, Eyes filled with such trust despite knowing what you were. Knowing that you were a hellspawn walking the earth no different from the night creatures.

She looked at you like how she had looked at you. Only looking for the best in you, despite the monstrous blood you bore.

No.

You couldn't.

You couldnt hurt her.

"Would you keep me safe?"

Safe?

From yourself? From other vampires? From night creatures?

You would.

Your answer was shown when you saw a flash of a sliver and the blade was met clashing against your own, sparks sliding against them as you grabbed her leaping out of the way of the sunrised eyes damned sword that flung after you in the air.

You saw the woman raise her hand despite her being held by your arm and move it upwards and a shield of ice shot from the ground as you landed. The sword stabbed into it, getting stuck.

"I believe actions speak louder than words." The smoothed damned voice dared to answer for you.

"I be damned." Muttered the hunter under his breath.

You ignored those ocean eyes that made you feel forgotten emotions as you let her go.

"You all will do." Sunrised eyes speak as he summons his blade from the ice back to his hand.

"We are going to kill my father."

Alucard.

Alucard Tepes, the son of Dracula, was the sleeping soldier.

Trevor

Trevor Belmont, was the hunter and last of his bloodline.

And

Sye was Sypha Belnades, a speaker magician.

Proper introductions said and made once Alucard led the group out of the catacombs and you all were at some abandoned house shack.

Your introduction was shorter than them,

"Y/n."

You simply had said as you piled more wood over Syphas fire in the shack.

"Just Y/n?" Alucard had asked as if he expected more.

You bared him a glance.

"Antiphonus, if you want to lose your tongue."

You saw him tilt his head.

"That's Nordic correct?" He asked.

"No, that name comes from greek…From olden stories of greek." Sypha spoke up and you glanced at her before looking back at Alucard.

"It's the name my father gave me." You simply state as you pull out a sharpening stone to sharpen your ax blade, cleaning it too.

"The hell kind of name is Y/n?" Trevor spoke up,

"I certainly ain't ever heard of it before."

Why were your names bringing up chatter?

"A name given to me by my mother." You huffed out. You suddenly rathered being alone, it was less annoying when you were alone. A Lot more quiet and your names didnt bring so much chatter and questioning.

"Was your mother human, or your father?"

your eyes snapped towards the blonde vampire.

So he could smell it off of you as much as you could smell it off of him.

"You say yours first." You shot back, you wouldn't be admitting shit if he wouldn't do the same. But you knew exactly which parent of his was the human.

The human wife that got burned at the stake.

It was petty of you, but why should you say anything of your own blood if he doesn't?

Would he say it? The son of Dracula Tepes, the 'Prince' of vampires, speaks out loud that he was nothing more but a half breed? Like you?

The humans looked between you both confused in their eyes as you and the other refused to look from each other.

For all they'd know or assume that he was born far before Dracula married and fucked a human.

"A human parent?" Sypha questions.

Your stare into the sunrise eyes was unwavering, it had caused many men back in your clan to buckle with unease, and it seems it still had that effect.

Alucard broke the stare first, a shudder seemed to break on his skin as he looked towards the two humans.

"My mother was Human." He answered and you watched with some amusement at how Syphas eyes widened as she looked over him and then looked at you.

"And yours?" She asked.

"Mother." You answered, and She smiled widely looking at the both of you.

"I have to know how that happened, there must be some interesting stories." She said eagerly.

Alucard chuckled.

"My mother just one day showed up to my fathers castle despite bodies on stakes, she pounded on the doors, demanded him to let her in and then demanded him to teach her science, medicine to heal people." He sounded so sincere and fond of his mother.

Demanded the King of Vampires to teach her? A simple human? And it worked?

You thought silently.

What did he even teach her?

"What was their first lesson? Bloodletting?"

Trevor's voice spoke up almost too eagerly.

He was met with an elbow to his side by Sypha and an annoyed glare from Aluacrd.

"My god, you still think your fun-"

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped your fanged lips. Sunrise eyes snapped towards you with disapproval but you could have cared less.

"See..He gets it." Trevor tried reasoning as he rubbed his side.

"You are so Rude." Sypha scolds him and then looks at you.

"What about you? How'd your parents meet?" She almost seemed excited to hear, a shame.

"My father and his men were pillaging her village, feeding." You started to explain watching her excitement fall and seeing how Trevor and Alucards faces hardened.

"He had the idea of half breeds in his head and when he saw her he gave her the choice to a fast death or live and bare him a hell spawn. She should've chosen the fast death."

The silence that came after was unsettling, or at least you assumed that it was due to how Sypha squirmed in her spot and how Trevor tapped his fingers against his folded arm.

Alucard's eyes bore into your head as you put your sharpening stone back and set your ax behind you on the ground.

They had questions.

You could feel it, you could feel each one of their questions on their tongues and now you waited to see who had the guts to ask them.

No one did.

The conversation was changed and the three of them chatted about other things as you had moved to a spot to rest. Laying on your back with your head between your crossed arms you let your eyes close and sleep reach your never waving mind.

Morning seemed to be a blink away as it came far too quickly. Breakfast was one you didn't partake in, not hunger for solid pleasantries. Your hunger in the morning was much more primal, vampiric.

"I can go find us a carriage if you all can behave." Sypha had announced shortly after breakfast.

"Please, we are not children." Alucard had spoken.

It was amusing since both he and Trevor could not stop insulting each other, like children.

Sypha eyed you all and you pushed up from the ground.

"You'd be going to the markets, yes? I'll join you." You say simply feeling the other two mens stiffening eyes. Sypha looked at you kindly but curiously.

"Why do you want to go huh?" Trevor questioned you, suspicion in his voice. It was annoying how pungent his scent was.

You turned looking over your shoulder baring into his eyes with your own.

" Animal blood." You started boredly, watching how the man tensed up his hand moving to his waist as stealthy as he could. You narrowed your eyes only slightly.

"Unless you want some poor village getting pillaged due to my hunger?" You felt your lips tilt up in a grin, showing your fangs.

Tension growing into the air, not just between you and the Hunter, but you could feel the sharp sunrise eyes burning into you more than the sun itself.

So strange, how you both were the same and yet he stared at you like you were more monster than him.

Perhaps you were.

But you would be damned if you forget what you were, you had changed, you had learned to control your hunger, you even favored a group of humans and was willing to help them.

But you were still were part fucking vampire and you will be damned if you ever felt ashamed of your blood.

You soon were shaken out of your eyelock when a hand smacked your chest making you turn to stare into ocean blue eyes.

"You are not pillaging nothing!" Sypha said scoldingly.

It was oddly funny with her scolding you considering you towered over her, and could easily overpower her if you had wished.

Yet seeing how her nose scrunched up as she glowered at you, her blue eyes trying to stay stern with you.

Her eyes are not judging you, unlike the two that burned into your back.

You felt the tilt of your lips soften some and your fangs being less noticeable as you made sure your Ax was fastened to your hip strap.

"Then the sooner i Have my breakfast the better." You tell her as you begin walking into the sun you were sure a hunter and dhampir would love it to set you ablazed in that moment.

such an amusing thought.

You walked the streets with Sypha, a silence between you but it wasn't tense. You could feel her questions. She bit back and sighed.

"Speak." You simply say as you both turned down another street. Her head turned towards you for a moment then back to the path.

"Do you really do it?" She started "Eat human blood?"

You hummed in confirmation.

"I had since birth and just human blood until a year ago." You tell her and she moves to look at you, those eyes filled with curiosity.

"Until a year ago? You said you came to Wallachia a year ago."

You nodded at her words.

"I was sent to travel by my father, away from the king's war. After devouring a few dozen villages by myself, I realized how alone it was." You told her, finding it easy with her, her curiosity not making you feel any sort of way.

"Do you still do it?" She asked and you turned to meet her gaze.

"I don't hunt humans anymore if that is what you're wondering." You watch her face as an ocean of emotions washes over it.

"Hunt them?" her voice was quieter. "Like animals?"

You simply stared into her eyes as you both had stopped walking.

You watched her jaw tense and how she swallowed as she stared into your inhuman eyes, their dim glowing reflection bright in her humane eyes.

fear gracing and swirling in her eyes as she stared into yours, and you could hear the now racing rhythm of her heartbeat picking up. How her blood rushed faster in her veins as her body slightly jerked with a shutter.

Her face suddenly changed and she smacked your chest, surprising you.

"Well if you are a friend of mine, you will never do such a thing again!" She exclaims and yet her eyes soften as she looks at you as if she was thinking over her words herself before you had a chance.

"At least, no one close to me, or nowhere near me." She softly speaks.

And now it was you with questions on your tongue.

"You accept this? You don't hurt any hatred?" You ask, tilting your head down at her, Emotions storming in her eyes as she looks back into yours.

"I do not agree with it.." She started making her understandings clear. She clears her throat before speaking again.

"But to hate you for eating would be wrong…I would just be more comfortable if i didn't have to see it.."

She looked at you, like how your mother used to when you drank a cup full of feeder blood.

Understanding.

No hatred, No judgment, No disgust.

But with understanding.

And you felt your chest grow warm, a strange unknown feeling as you stared into Syphas warm understanding eyes and you felt yourself smile some.

"Do not worry." You tell her as you started to walk towards the markets hearing her footsteps race after you as you looked over your shoulder at her.

"I don't drink unless it's offered now." You tell her watching her eyes widen with surprise before a smile forms on her face and she follows you until she is beside you once more.

"That's how it should be." She said almost proudly causing you to chuckle.

She was a strange human.

You managed to score your favorite animal's blood this time at the markets.

Lamb.

You grinned widely as you sipped from the jug you had purchased as you walked back to the house with Sypha. Taking the alleyways to be out of the public's eye so you could feed in some peace.

Her face was scrunched up in smoke disgust as you knocked back the jug and chugged down the sweet lambs blood.

"What does it taste like?" she asked, her tone .

You licked your blood stained lips and held out the jug to her.

"Wanna taste?" You teased her watching how she leaned far away from the jug pushing it back towards you.

"Absolutely not." She straightened back up once you stopped teasing her with it and taking another large mouthful of the blood and swallowing.

"I would just like to know, As a speaker it's my responsibility to know such things to pass along to younger generations, and I should be able to tell young speakers why vampires like the taste of blood." She says in a way.

You tilted your head as you watched her give off this facade, a smirk on your lips as she opened her eyes to look at you.

"Lot of words to say about you're nosey." You say back.

She stormed ahead of you, arms crossed and a crossed look on her face all the way back to the house.

You finished your jug long before then and tossed it as you watched her greet Trevor and Alucard.

"What's got your face squirreled up?" You could hear Trevor's voice despite you now breaking into the clearing and nearing the house.

"I ask what blood tastes like to a vampire and He shoves a jug of lamb's blood at me and says 'Wanna taste' Like that answers anything!" You walked in time to see her throw your hands up in annoyance.

Other eyes bore into you once again and it immediately kills your warm feeling in your chest as you glare back at them with your unwavering stare.

"Bloods, blood." You answer, and Sypha seemed to turn quickly at you, her brows scrunching up. confusion and slight surprise, before a form of disappointment grew over her features.

You had thought it was because of your simple answer.

But in reality Sypha was saddened at how cold your voice had become once again.

You had brightened up when heading to the markets. Your tone and accent was warmer, softer, inviting like it was after you had randomly charged from the forest and slayed night creatures saving her family from being eaten alive and her grandfather had greeted you.

The disdain in your eyes as you glare into Trevor's direction and the displeasure when they slide over to Alucards clear for her to see.

The distrust in the other two mens clear as they glared at you back, As if they stared at a wild animal with white foam dripping from its mouth and sickly eyes, instead of a man who was raised entirely differently and is learning to thrive in a world that is breaking.

One who had went against his raising to change, who could have been like the other vampires who wanted to sit by and let the night Hordes continue, to take pleasure in the genocide of humans. Could have continued to hunt down humans and feasted on them just like the creatures, just like other vampires were doing.

But you didn't and you weren't.

You had seen that you needed to change.

You worked hard on it, she could tell when you explained earlier, controlling your hunger, the need to kill humans for blood.

You settled on animals, only taking human blood when offered it by someone willing.

You had sought out Alucard, just because you heard speaker stories that he would stop Dracula's War.

You were honest.

Sypha noticed that right away, you didn't lie, you told her the truth and was ready to accept her reactions to your truth.

You weren't like them.

When she looked at the night creature all she saw was a feral deranged monster.

She didn't see that when she looked at you.

She simply saw a man, just trying to learn and survive like the rest of them.

She saw how gentle you could be, and she was seeing it now again as you ignored the hunter and soldier finding your horse and stroking his mane softly. You were muttering under your breath as you moved to feed the gentle beasty oats. That same gentleness you had when you snatched her out of the way of danger, putting your immortality in front of her mortal life.

Threatened and willing to kill another like you, just to keep her safe.

That was more than what humans would do.

Why didnt the other two see that?

If she could trust you then they should too.

Vampire, Dhampire

She trusted you.

Sypha paused as the conversation between her, Trevor and Alucard blurred from her mind as she watched you smile and groom your horse, a gentleness that the other two were not seeing.

She trusted you.

chp 7

[raintouchedstars]

The Window At The End of the Road

Summary: Years of survival and fighting for freedom, for a life of her own and all she was left was this. This place, this window, her curse...and him.

Author's Note: An enemies to lovers short piece from a story that I had long since abandoned, but wanted to post it anyway. The characters in this are both immortal adults, 10 years apart but well into their 100s. Though there is nothing too explicit in this story, reader discretion is still advised, mentions of war, trauma, violence, and survival.

The clouds rolled over the city, drenching it in rain that made the buildings look shiny and new. Liana pressed her forehead against the thick floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, looking down at the blurry lights far below. It should be beautiful, watching the cars move, creating colors like smears on a canvas. Not for her though. The war, the days spend slaughtering one crazed monster after another, the nights spent shivering in terror, unable to sleep for fear of being found. Vulnerable. Unprepared.

Thunder screamed across the sky, and Liana felt like crying with it. There was only one battle left. One fight, against the demon that started it all. The sun would rise tomorrow, and the humans would have no idea of the rage that would be unleashed with it. Would not even know that their entire existence hangs in the balance.

And here she was. She had run away from her family, her friends, all so that could follow him. He would be there at the battle tomorrow. He would not fight on either side. But no matter the victor, she knew he would walk away with prizes no one else would even consider.

He would come back here soon, to this penthouse, that he most likely stole. She wondered whom this house belonged to, and how he had tricked people into giving it to him. The receptionist on the first floor acted as though she knew Liana, and gave her a spare key, no questions asked.

He was waiting for her.

She thought about the last time she had willingly come to him. It had been raining that night too. She had remembered their shared past, and the pain of the truth had made her run to him, demanding to understand why he had chosen to be who he was.

How funny.

She understood it all now. It was so easy to fall below the ice once that barrier was cracked. She was no better than he was now. A monster.

She knew the moment he stepped into the penthouse. There was no grand entrance, no door rattling as the keys were turned. Nothing. Except the pressure of his presence. And his scent.

He always smelled like the clear sky after a rainstorm. How a man that dark would always smell that clean was a mystery to her.

She didn't turn. She saw his reflection in the window glass. A pleased smirk spread across his face.

"Well, well." He shed the outer layer of his suit, revealing the white dress shirt underneath. "I was wondering how long it would take before you came to find me."

Liana turned. Her heart was screaming, her mind did not agree with her eyes and ears, but there he was. Tall, relaxed, an easy smile hiding the cruelty behind his beautiful green eyes.

"I killed you," she whispered.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, his smile fading, his steps relaxed and slow as he moved toward her.

"I wrung your neck. I can still feel the snapping in my hands. You were dead for three years! You can't be real!"

He came close, till his body pressed against hers, pinning her between himself and the window. "Do I not feel real?"

Liana sunk her claws into his shirt, ripping the white fabric, staining it with red.

So he was real.

"Then explain, Isak."

She hissed, curling her fingers, drawing more blood. He narrowed his eyes.

"Explain why I remember something that didn't happen. Did you make me think I murdered you in cold blood? Is that it? Did you want to make me into a monster just like you? To prove some kind of sick point? I was nothing like you! I never took pleasure in killing! I did what I had to-to survive! Did you put memories of me wanting to destroy and main in head? Did-" Her lungs seized, not letting her continue. Breathing burned as she tried to suck in air through the rising panic.

Looking up, into a set of calm, green eyes, the one physical attribute they shared, she tried to search for some form of confession.

Isak he grabbed her wrist, and pulled her claws out of his chest, the wounds already closing. He held her hands in his, pulling them over her head, looking down at her from between his own arms.

"It's flattering that you think I'm powerful enough to change someone's memories, but no. I did nothing to your mind, except put you back together after you escaped from Narcius the first time."

Isak squeezed Liana's hands. All the years she'd spent, running and hiding in the Second Plane, the world that existed alongside the human world, ran through her mind. He was telling the truth. And it did nothing to ease her pain.

"Why would I want you to believe you had killed me?"

He let go of her hands, and they feel limply to her sides.

"I have nothing to gain from it. But Narcius does. And now, I can see why."

She couldn't hold herself up anymore. She would have crumbled to the floor, if Isak hadn't wrapped his arms around her ribs. He held her up, her feet floating in the air.

Liana slammed her fists down on his shoulders and back. "I don't care why he did it! I was never cruel before that lie! I'm tainted now!"

"That's exactly what he wants. Cruelty makes the curse spread. Killing me wasn't what you were afraid of. You're afraid of becoming a monster like me. He reached into your darkest fears and made you believe the one thing that would push you over the edge."

Liana felt hollow. If Isak held her tight enough, she might just shatter like glass. All the people she had killed, it had been a game. Stuck in a nightmare world, in a war, where the only person she had known kindness from was the same man she despised, it had been so easy to rationalize her cruelty. She was once a Priestess of the Spring. And now...

"Well, Narcius won." Tears ran down her face now. "Before this, I killed only to protect myself and others, and never without the goddess' blessing. Look at me now."

She pulled down her shirt, revealing part of her chest. Her skin was as black as ink, as though oil ran through her veins instead of blood.

Isak cursed. He reached down with one hand and pulled her blouse over her head. From her heart, black thorns spread outward, covering part of her breasts, her ribcage.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you leave." He pressed a hand to her skin. The black patches were cold. "But you resented staying with me. So I let you go. I never would have let you free if I knew he could still reach your mind, spread the curse further."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Liana sobbed. "The corruption won't stop. Not after everything I've done. I don't deserve to go back to my family. I have nothing."

Isak wiped away a tear. "So why did you come here? What were you looking for?"

"The truth."

"Even if it causes you pain?"

"Maybe that's what I deserve."

He pressed a finger to her temple. "Do you want to forget? Should I lock away that which pains you?"

"I thought you said you couldn't do that."

He smiled. "Do you think I can't find a way to do it?"

"Even if you did, it wouldn't erase everything I've done."

"You're right. It won't."

"How do you live with yourself? How do you keep going, knowing what you've done to people?"

Isak tilted his head to the side. "You're asking the wrong person. I quite enjoy what I do." He leaned forward, his nose brushing against hers. "I can't heal a broken spirit. Or a broken heart."

"Like I expected you to bother trying." She turned her head to the side, away from his eyes.

"But I can cleanse the darkness."

Liana closed her eyes, not believing him, her body shaking in silent despair. She had already lost her family, her principles, and soon she herself would disappear, turned into a raging monster once the poison in her blood covered her completely. She had nothing left to lose, no shame in letting him hold her close now. Better than being alone, then being cold. Nothing concerned her anymore.

Until Isak's lips pressed gently into the curve of her neck. Liana wriggled, trying to pull back from him. There was no sly smile on his lips this time, no smirk remark.

"You hate me, I know. I like to tease you, pester your family, manipulate information to better suit my wishes, but there are lines even I won't cross without your permission."

Isak's palm was hot, and Liana couldn't help pressing her cheek into that warmth as he tilted her head back.

"Only one of us truly deserves to be corrupted," he said against her lips. "Let me gather up the darkness inside you. Let me fill you will pleasure instead."

Liana could see her frightened expression in his eyes. Her entire body trembled as his offer sank in. Thoughts came to a halt as her heart began hammering in her chest.

"Should I let you go?"

Liana panicked, throwing her arms around his shoulders. The only thing that was keeping her from the numbing freeze was his hot body against her own. "No."

"What do you want then?"

"I don't want to be cold anymore."

He pressed his forehead against hers. Lightning flashed for a moment, and he didn't even blink or flinch from it, eyes as intense as the first day she had met him.

"There is no going back if I cross this line," he warned. "I've spent decades longing for you. If you demand that I leave, I will, but if you give me permission to continue, I won't go back to waiting for the day that you'd be mine."

Liana closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. What did it matter if she resisted him anymore? She was going to fade away soon. Her body would still exist, but her mind, her spirit, her consciousness would fade away into nothing but rage and bloodlust. Now was all the time she had, now was all the time that mattered.

He crushed her to him, squeezing her between himself and the glass, waking her heart, bringing heat to her cheeks. His tongue slid over hers, kissing her deep. Electricity zipped along her skin, making her feel as though her limps were turned into putty. When he pulled away, she was breathless.

Yet some part of her mind awoke and rebelled, reminding her of all the times she had resisted his touch in the past. This was not the same boy that she had loved as a child.

"You'll burn me."

"You're right. I will." He leaned in so close, that his chest crushed hers, and his breath puffed against her ear. "I'm not gentle, I'm not soft, and once won't be enough."

His tongue traced the outer rim of her ear. Liana cried out.

"Mmm, what a beautiful sound." Isak slid his leg between hers. "So what will be?"

Liana's mind was dangerously close to shutting down, and letting nothing but touch take over. She had to press a hand to his chest, to ground herself.

"If I change my mind midway through, if I wake up from this dream you put me in-"

"I'll give you a word. Say it and I stop, no matter what I'm doing."

He moved lower, his tongue tracing from her ear to her neck, where he bit down gently, nibbling lightly on her skin. "I need an answer."

"Yes."

"Good."

Isak looped his hands under her thighs, lifting her, positioning her legs around his waist.

"W-wait. Here? Against the glass?"

"Shush." He trailed kisses down to her collarbone, stopping just above her heart. "Relax now. Let me guide you through the fire."

[theunkn0wn-0]

The Gift of Immortality DRAGON BALL STORY: Insert Reader

GENDER-NEUTRAL READER ✕ DRAGON BALL CHARACTERS

╰➤ ⌈ 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵… ⌋ ╰┈┈➤ This is a FIRST PERSON POV story for the reader, Y/N, M/C. ╰┈┈➤ Instead of (Y/N), I use [First Name] for your name. ╰┈┈➤ Enjoy the story, have fun.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 005 | 𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑳𝒀𝑺𝑻 FIRST CHAPTER: 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 — 𝑩𝑰𝑹𝑻𝑯 | 1

TRIGGER WARNINGS: PANIC ATTACK, VIOLENCE!!! Mentions of BLOOD, MURDER, SWEARING!!!

006 | Reckoning

❝Sometimes it takes a good fall to really know where you stand.❞

•◉◓☆◓◉•

 "Suck my—"

The announcer's voice cut me off, calling for Junior's opponent to arrive. The blaring speakers were silenced as I sensed a distant energy behind me. Turning, I saw an old, nerdy man approaching, perhaps in his forties or fifties.

His light beige skin was smooth, complemented by neatly combed, short black hair. His black eyes, round and serene, exuded a calm and somewhat absent-minded expression behind glasses. A small, gentle smile lent his face an air of benign simplicity. He was dressed in a simple white button shirt and black pants, but he seemed vastly out of place in the martial arts arena.

I stepped aside, my eyes lingering on him as he walked past me. As he entered the ring, the speakers blared again, announcing his presence. "Ladies and gentlemen, Hero has arrived! Get ready, this sure will be an amazing battle!"

The crowd's excitement surged, their cheers growing louder in anticipation of the showdown between Junior and Hero. Hero apologized for his tardiness, explaining that he had lost his way. I would raise an eyebrow; he seemed like a goofy man just trying to live his life from my perspective while the other fighters beside me exchanged glances, their faces mirroring my own skepticism.

While I watched him, I sensed a familiar energy as Goku approached us. Krillin raised an eyebrow, curiosity lacing his tone. "Hey, where have you been?" 

Goku, standing next to us, smiled sheepishly. "Oh, something. I'll tell ya later," he answered before falling silent. Tenshinhan's curiosity was piqued as he glanced at Goku, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Something, huh?" he repeated, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Krillin chuckled at Goku's vague answer. "Classic Goku," he teased. "Always keeping secrets."

"Is that so?" I interjected, my tone tinged with curiosity and skepticism about Goku's sudden disappearance. I glanced at Goku, noting the surprise on everyone's faces as they turned to me. Goku, Tenshinhan, and Krillin couldn't help but react to my sudden interest in the conversation, while Yamcha regarded me with a hint of curiosity.

Goku chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, you'll see soon enough," he replied cryptically.

"Get ready, the Second Semi-Final begins... now!"

The announcer's voice boomed over the microphone. Hero's eyes narrowed in defiance, an unexpected anger flashing behind them as he gazed at Junior. The crowd's cheers and chatter made it difficult to hear their exchange, but Junior's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The tension between the two fighters was palpable.

Suddenly, Hero's energy surged, and he assumed a battle stance. With a swift upward motion of his hand, the ground trembled and an impulsive blast erupted, sending Junior soaring into the sky. The wind from the attack was so fierce that I had to close my eyes against the blinding light and brace myself to avoid being knocked over. The sound of the blast was deafening, leaving my ears ringing as I slowly opened my eyes to see the arena, now slightly crumbled and empty.

Another powerful explosion erupted from a mile away, shaking the ground once more. Squinting at the light as it diminished, I caught a glimpse of Hero descending before he landed gracefully, not breaking a sweat.

Junior reappeared behind Hero, slashing at him with sharp nails, but Hero vanished, reappearing above Junior, who turned too late. Hero bashed his knee into Junior's back, sending him crashing face-first into the arena ground with such force that the ground shattered, creating a hole. Junior fell through, breaking through the other side of the arena floor.

The crowd erupted in cheers at the match's progression, impressed by Junior's resilience. My eyes narrowed, an emotional turmoil brewing inside me as I observed the scene. Everything happened so fast.

Hero's skill was impressive, and for a moment, I hoped he might be the one to defeat Junior. However, something about Hero's fighting style seemed almost lethal, as if he were trying to kill Junior. Perhaps I was overthinking it, but his style was eerily reminiscent of King Piccolo's, it unnerved me.

As they faced each other again, Hero regained his bearings, his teeth gritted in determination. The others—Krillin, Yamcha, Tenshinhan, and Goku—watched in stunned silence, their eyes glued to the unfolding events. The air was thick with suspense, every movement and attack charged with the possibility of a volatile outcome.

"Unbelievable," Tenshinhan muttered, his voice filled with astonishment at Hero's incredible strength and agility.

"Who is this guy?" Yamcha exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

Krillin shook his head in disbelief. "What—how? He just—and—I've never seen anything like it."

The four of them continued to watch, their eyes glued to the battle. Tenshinhan's expression grew contemplative. "This fight seems personal. Hero is attacking Junior as if they were at war."

Hearing Tenshinhan's words confirmed my suspicions. Krillin raised an eyebrow, contemplating his statement. "Yeah, it does seem a bit intense for just a tournament fight," he agreed, his voice tinged with concern.

Yamcha nodded, his eyes fixed on the battle. "It's like there's more than just winning on his mind." Goku remained silent, his eyes narrowed as he studied Hero's movements, his expression inscrutable.

With a shout from Hero, he charged Junior with reverent speed, his quickened steps echoing on the floor. Junior prepared for the onslaught, eyes narrowing as they closed in on each other. Junior swung his hand to the left in a slash, but Hero halted abruptly, defying the momentum that had propelled him forward, catching Junior off guard.

Seizing the advantage, Hero struck a blow to Junior's abdomen; the sickening thud echoed through the arena, sending Junior hurling backward before he regained his stance. Hero charged at him again, tossing jabs and hooks left and right, yet they both seemed to block and avoid each attack with precision and inhuman speed, their movements a blur.

My eyes struggled to keep up, their bodies flickering across the ring. In a blink, Hero vanished, reappearing behind Junior, leg poised for a devastating kick. Junior, reacting with astonishing speed, caught Hero's leg before impact, gripping it fiercely.

With a powerful swing, Junior tossed Hero to the ground. Hero's agility shone through as he placed his hand on the floor, preventing a face-first crash, and performed a backflip to land gracefully. Junior did not waver. His energy spiked, creating an orb of light within his palm. He aimed and fired at Hero.

The blast was overwhelming, the blinding light forcing my eyes shut. The force behind it pushed spectators back, the wind roaring through the arena. However, I forced my eyes to open, determined to witness every moment. Through the blinding light and my astonishment; I saw Hero's hands outstretched, catching the blast and redirecting it upwards, away from the crowd.

My eyes widened at the sight. His hands hissed with smoke, the heat visibly intense; I knew the agony of such an act, having experienced it against Goku, yet Hero showed no signs of injury. It was a startling display of resilience.

What am I seeing right now?

Hero's expression was laced with fatigue and determination, while Junior, momentarily shocked, quickly regained his composure. It was clear that Junior now understood he could not underestimate this seemingly frail old man.

Yamcha broke the stunned silence first, his voice barely above a whisper. "How is he not seriously hurt from that?"

The audience was awestruck into silence by the display of power and endurance. Even the usually loquacious announcer was speechless, his voice lost in the sheer awe of the moment. I knew any normal human would have been severely injured, if not worse, by such an intense blast.

"This isn't normal at all," Krillin breathed out, his eyes still fixed on the arena. The fighters beside me could only watch, their eyes wide, their words lost. They had never seen such a display of strength and resilience before.

Despite the uncanny event, Junior displayed formidable power, surpassing even his father, King Piccolo, in speed and strength. I stayed silent, my gaze remaining on Junior as he stood his ground, his eyes narrowed at Hero, clearly sizing him up and analyzing him.

With the crowd dead silent, Junior's lips parted and spoke something I couldn't catch until Hero responded, "▯:⋊|♁⨅⌟◸.⋥.Ə| ∆∙◸.⋥.⨅⌟⨉⨉ ◸.⨉⨉ ⨅⌟◸.▯:⨕∙|▷ ▯.⊓⨉⨉◸.⋥.⋊|⨉⨉⨉⨉, ⨿⁚◸.⩞⩞◺⌝⊐:◺⌝" Translating... |Reading minds is dirty business, Piccolo.

What is this bullshit?

It caught me off guard; I couldn't discern his words, almost gibberish to my ears. It was a tongue I couldn't place, which only added to the mystery and tension of the moment. Junior seemed to understand, his eyes widening before responding in a bitter tone, "⨅⌟◺⌝ |▷◺⌝.⊓ ▯:⋊|♁⊐:⊐:|▷ ⨕∙∟◸.⋥.ɛ |▷◺⌝.⊓ ⩞♁⋥. ☉◺⌝◺⌝⊐: ∆∙⋊| P◸.⨕∙ ∟ ⨕∙ ∟♁⨕∙ ⨅⌟◸.⨉⨉Ə|.⊓◸.⨉⨉⋊|" Translating... |Do you really think you can fool me with that disguise?

Tenshinhan, Krillin, Yamcha, and Goku exchanged confused glances, their eyes darting from Hero to Junior. "Did you catch what they were saying?" Krillin asked, his voice edged with both curiosity and concern.

Yamcha shrugged, just as baffled as the rest. "Sounded like some kind of weird language, didn't it? I'm just as confused as you."

"But they seemed to understand each other," Tenshinhan observed, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and unease.

"Yeah, that's what's strange about it," Krillin agreed as Goku remained silent, his brow furrowed in deep thought, clearly focused on deciphering the exchange between Hero and Junior.

"P ∟♁⨕∙ ⨅⌟◺⌝ |▷◺⌝.⊓ ⨕∙∟◸.⋥.ɛ |▷◺⌝.⊓'▯:⋊|, ɛ♁∆∙◸.!" As Junior's guttural, otherworldly words reverberated through the arena. Translating... |What do you think you’re doing here, Kami!

There was a flicker of irritation in Junior's eyes, met with a smirk of amusement from Hero. The two exchanged their strange language, harsh and alien, until Hero responded with something that left both warriors glaring at each other in silence.

The announcer's voice cut through the uncomfortable quiet, attempting to engage the crowd and make sense of the situation, chimed in, "Both Junior and Hero are speaking in a language we've never heard before! But the meaning is clear in any tongue—these two warriors are out to get one another. I think..."

Uncertainty colored the announcer's tone, mirroring my feelings. My brows furrowed as I tried to decipher their conversation. Did they share a history? My thoughts were interrupted by Junior's laughter—loud, proud, and ominous. It sent a shiver down my spine, the unease creeping into my skin, reminiscent of King Piccolo.

"|▷◺⌝.⊓'▯:⋊| ▯⊐:.⊓☉☉◸.⋥.Ə|! ⨕∙ ∟⋊|▯:⋊| ◸.⨉⨉ ⋥.◺⌝⨕∙ ∟◸.⋥.Ə| |▷◺⌝.⊓ ⩞♁⋥. ⨅⌟◺⌝ ⨕∙◺⌝ ⨉⨉⨕∙◺⌝⨿⁚ ∆∙⋊|!" Translating… |You're bluffing! There is nothing you can do to stop me!

Junior's tone shifted from bitterness to cockiness as he continued in his native tongue. Hero's smirk faltered briefly before he responded, chuckling in amusement. Whatever Hero said made Junior's eyes widen in disbelief and panic, his posture stiffening with a rare vulnerability.

Yamcha's voice broke the tension, his tone laced with concern and curiosity. "Whatever they are saying, Junior doesn't seem happy about it." The others nodded, sharing similar thoughts as Hero and Junior continued their cryptic exchange.

Suddenly, Hero reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small bottle that sparked a fresh wave of questions in my mind. He unplugged the cap and carefully placed it on the ground.

"Hero has revealed a bottle and placed it on the ground; it doesn't register as a weapon. So... the match will continue. It might be some sort of magic charm," the announcer speculated, sounding more uncertain than authoritative.

I glanced at the bottle, noticing red writing on it. Realization struck me, sending my heart racing with perplexity and desperate hope.

"No! Not that!" Junior's voice cut through, his fear was noticeable as his eyes widened in terror. At that moment, a sadistic glee flickered in my eyes.

Hero leaped back, calculating and precise. His hands outstretched, a surge of energy illuminated his form as he shouted with sheer determination, "Evil Containment Wave!"

The words sent a thrill through my entire being, and the world around me fell into a tense silence. My heart thumped with ecstatic anticipation; I watched with bated breath as Hero unleashed a torrent of energy, creating a blinding light and roaring wind. Squinting against the brightness, I savored every moment. A smile crept onto my lips behind my facemask, uncontrollable and raw with hope. The light enveloped Junior, the containment nearly complete.

This was it.

As the attack neared Junior, a spark of light flickered within the blast, causing me to flutter my eyes, adjusting to the blinding intensity, but nothing could prepare me for what came next.

The energy of the Evil Containment Wave is twisted and reversed, the light bouncing back, redirected by Junior toward Hero. In a flash, the tide turned against Hero. He was tangled within the very technique meant for Junior. Everything seemed to slow down; moments stretched into an agonizing eternity.

Hero was trapped in the wave, struggling to break free, but Junior's control was absolute. With deft precision, Junior aimed the concentrated light toward the open bottle, seizing the opportunity to ensnare Hero permanently. But then, something happened. Something came out of his body and it looked like Junior. Someone had used Hero, a human, to disguise themselves, and they were trapped within the wave, leaving Hero behind.

Junior continued to guide the light, aiming it at the opened bottle, trapping the being within. He sprinted towards it, plugging the cap back inside.

Silence settled around me, a stark contrast to the disarray flaring. My mind reeled, thoughts racing yet frozen in dread as I stared at the unconscious Hero left laying face on the ground after—whatever was possessing him—departure from his human body and my stomach twisted in a knot. My heart throbbed, almost as if it stopped beating. I stopped breathing—no, I felt suffocated as the implications settled upon me.

Junior had managed to reverse the entrapment.

And that only meant one thing.

Was this the way he was going to get his revenge? His father's revenge?

The weight of the moment pressed down on me, a suffocating realization that history might repeat itself — that I could be the next one trapped, tortured in isolation for eternity. 

It was a fitting revenge for the one who had betrayed King Piccolo and entrapped him for centuries.

Fear gripped me, a primal terror clawing at my insides. Images of past torment flashed through my mind; memories I had fought so hard to bury. Memories of my previous entrapment flooded back, the endless darkness, the crushing solitude, the unending torment of repeating death.

Sweat trickled down my forehead. Panic surged through me, threatening to overwhelm what little composure I clung to. Junior's smug smirk cut through the haze of my terror. He could see the fear in my eyes as they shifted from sadistic glee to panic.

It was his turn to relish and savor my reaction.

In that moment of paralyzing fear, I saw the abyss staring back at me. Junior's eyes bore into mine, mocking my vulnerability. While holding the bottle in his hands, a reminder there was someone inside the bottle, it was almost satire that he may have known I might consider using that technique on him.

Clearly, that wasn't going to work.

A cruel glint sparkled in Junior's eyes as he observed my terror-stricken expression. He was reveling in my dread, enjoying the power he wielded in that moment. My breath hitched, my vision narrowed, and my heart pounded so violently that it felt like it might burst. Every fiber of my being screamed in protest, unwilling to face the fate Junior had planned.

Trapped forever. Alone. Tortured.

I couldn't go back to that. I couldn't survive it again.

I barely came out of that with a fragment of my sanity.

My mind spiraled, thoughts racing, crashing into each other in a chaotic whirlwind. The world around me blurred further, Junior's smirk was a haunting beacon in the turmoil. My legs felt weak, threatening to give way beneath me. The thought of being sealed away, of losing my sanity, gnawed at my very soul.

"Hey, are you okay?" Tenshinhan's voice cut through the haze, a lifeline in my panic. I hardly registered his presence, my mind locked in a battle with my own demons.

"I..." My voice sounded ragged, my throat dry. The words died on my lips as I struggled to compose myself. Tenshinhan could see the raw panic in my eyes, a deep-seated fear that seemed to grip me with a vice-like grip. He stepped closer, his expression concerned, as he tried to reach me.

"Breathe," he said firmly. "You need to breathe."

I attempted to follow Tenshinhan's advice, but each inhale felt inadequate, my focus consumed by Junior and the haunting resemblance he bore to his father, King Piccolo. Backing away, I was lost in a tumult of memories, the terror of past captivity threatening to overwhelm me. Desperation clawed at my chest, urging flight from the imminent threat. I couldn't afford to be trapped again. Not like this. Not by Junior.

Tenshinhan reached out, his hand gently gripping my arm to steady me. "Hey, calm down," he repeated, his voice a blend of firmness and reassurance. "Focus on me. Take a slow breath through your nose, then exhale through your mouth."

Yamcha observed, his eyes flicking between me and Tenshinhan, while Krillin kept a respectful distance, worry etched on his face as he watched my distress. But they knew Tenshinhan could handle the situation. He was the most level-headed among them.

Meanwhile, the announcer's countdown for Hero's unconscious form underscored the tension in the arena.

"Look at me," Tenshinhan instructed firmly, his eyes locking with mine, blocking the view of Junior. "Breathe in slowly. Inhale. Hold it for a moment. And exhale. Slowly. You need to calm down. You're going to hyperventilate."

But Something inside me snapped.

The panic, the fear, the memories — they all funneled into a single, blazing point of desperation. I focused intently on Tenshinhan's guidance, breathing deeply and methodically. Inhaling through my nose, holding briefly, and exhaling through my mouth, I felt my racing heart begin to slow.

Soon my vision cleared, and my breath steadied. My panic began to subside, replaced by a steely focus. I straightened up, my breathing still ragged but controlled. There was only one thought that remained, burning with clarity and purpose: I couldn't let Junior win.

Tenshinhan observed the shift in my demeanor, his grip on my arm easing as he saw the quiet strength returning to my gaze. Goku, on the other hand, took glances at both my state and Junior, his eyes filled with anger — a silent communication that suggested a deeper history between him and Junior.

Yamcha broke the silence, his voice a welcome relief. "You okay now?"

I nodded. Anger burned away the fear, a fire fueled by desperation for survival. I couldn't be weak. I couldn't afford to be weak. Not now. My eyes glanced at Tenshinhan's hand gripping my arm; it was awkward since I was a stranger to them, yet for a moment, there was an odd sentiment that someone had helped me.

But I pushed the thought away, focusing on the situation at hand.

Tenshinhan released his grip on my arm with a pat that felt almost brotherly, satisfied that I had regained my composure. The familiar noise of the crowd's cheers and the booming voice of the announcer reverberated through the arena, snapping me back into the present moment.

"Junior wins the match by knockout and will now advance to the championship round against Anonymous!"

The name rang in my ears: 'Anonymous.' Throughout this tournament, I had avoided facing Piccolo Jr., but now, as I stood there, all hesitation dissipated. I didn't care anymore.

Taking a few steps forward to gain a better view of the arena, I observed the announcer knelt beside Hero, attempting to rouse him from unconsciousness. Slowly, Hero stirred, groggy and disoriented, aided to his feet by the announcer. The audience flared in applause for Hero's valiant effort to reach the semi-finals.

But my attention swiftly returned to Junior, who stood there with the bottle clenched tightly in his hand, his smirk unwavering. His eyes met mine, and he saw it—my resolve, my determination not to back down despite my earlier panic attack.

We locked eyes, a silent battle of wills. Anger surged within me, mingled with a deep-seated fear and a desperate resolve. One thought consumed me: I will kill Junior. It was the only way to ensure my safety, to prevent the horrifying fate he intended for me. This was no longer just a tournament.

It was about survival — my survival.

As my gaze bore into Junior's, my determination burned fiercely. But instead of faltering under my intense stare, Junior's smirk widened. He seemed to relish the intensity of my resolve. To him, it signaled fear, a delicious confirmation of his power over me.

A gong struck, a deep, resonant boom filling the air, starting as a sharp metallic clang before expanding into a rolling wave of sound that echoed through the arena. It momentarily broke my focus, drawing the attention of the crowd and the other fighters.

"Next up is the final round as Anonymous and Junior battle for the championship! Get ready for the most spectacular match of the day!!!" The announcer's voice excited the crowd, their excitement masking the true nature of the confrontation about to unfold.

"The fight will begin following a ten-minute intermission."

The ten-minute break stretched out like an eternity. It was a cruel pause, offering too much time for my thoughts to spiral, for my fears and doubts to metastasize. It was as if the universe was taunting me, prolonging the inevitable confrontation with Junior.

With a scowl, I turned away from Junior and returned to the tournament building. The gaze of the others followed me, but I ignored it, pushing forward with a single-minded focus, seeking a moment of solitude.

Inside the building, I found a wooden bench and sat down heavily, my thoughts spiraling out of control. The weight of those dreadful events pressed down on me, threatening to unhinge my already fragile sanity. My breaths came in shallow gasps again, my hands quivering as I clutched at my knees.

I couldn't shake the relentless urge to butcher Junior, to eradicate the threat he posed. Thoughts of consequences — of exposing my identity, of causing collateral damage, of risking capture — faded into the background. All that mattered was the singular goal of ending Junior's life.

The wooden bench beneath me creaked as I shifted, trying to steady my racing thoughts. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the coolness of the air around me. The noises of the bustling tournament outside seemed distant, muffled by the commotion inside my skull.

The wait was excruciating, my mind playing out every possible scenario. My heart pounded against my chest, a relentless drumbeat of fear and determination. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself and focus on the task ahead.

I didn't know how long I was waiting until a sudden chuckle shattered the silence, jolting me out of my thoughts. Tension coiled within me like a spring, my muscles tightening as I braced myself. Opening my eyes, I met Junior's gaze—smug, lethal, towering over me. He stood with casual arrogance, one hand resting on his hip while the other idly played with a fragment of his cape.

"Well, well, look at the state you're in. Afraid? Oh, you should be," he taunted, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. Anger surged within me, a blazing fire igniting in the depths of my chest, momentarily overpowering the despair that threatened to consume me.

I focused on controlling my breathing, forcing myself to maintain my calm facade. I remained silent, meeting Junior's gaze with defiance and apprehension, torn between the urge to lash out and the instinct to retreat. In the end, I just sat there, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my turmoil.

Junior's dark eyes flickered over me, drinking in the sight of my tense form. He seemed unperturbed by my festering rage, relishing the tremor that ran through me and the subtle betrayals of my tightly clenched lips. His next words were laced with danger, delivered in a low, menacing tone.

"All that waffling, all that scheming, all for naught. You've done well, [First Name]. You've survived this long."

His right hand shot forward, his long fingers enclosing my throat with swift brutality, the impact snapped, splintering, and crumpling the wooden bench beneath us, its splinters poked and stung my body. His grip tightened mercilessly, the pressure was instantaneous and suffocating, his thumbs digging into my windpipe, his sharp nails dug into my throat, causing small rivulets of blood that escape my neck.

I could barely breathe or speak; a scream lodged deep in my constricted throat. My eyes widened in panic, every nerve in my body tensing as I clawed desperately at his hand with renewed strength, fighting to loosen the vice-like grip on my windpipe.

The searing pain radiates through my neck, the blood rushing to my temples, my vision dimming on the periphery. My calloused hands, hardened by years of battles, found no purchase against his implacable hold. My attempts to break free only made him greedier for my pain.

Junior leaned into me, his face contorting into a mocking expression, and showed his fangs with a grin. "We both know, even if you can't die, I can make you wish for it." he hissed, his grip squeezing tighter, ready to crush my trachea.

He was right.

Even if I can not permanently die, I could still feel the pain. But if I die right here.

I would come back to life.

•◉◒☆◒◉•

Finished: JULY 4, 2024 Happy (early/late) 4th of July! — theunkn0wn-0

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: 005 | 𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑳𝒀𝑺𝑻 NEXT CHAPTER: 007 | 𝑼𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺

LINK TO THE BOOK [WATTPAD]: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 — 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚗 𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 If you're interested in stories like these, here is my 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[fawnhoards]

A collection of dialogue from Rick Yancey’s The Final Descent. To be used as sentence starters. As per usual, feel free to change pronouns or whatever you see fit. Mentions / implications of death, murder, violence, alcohol.

“ It would be humorous if it weren’t so painful to watch. ”

“ I have no idea what you’re talking about. ”

“ It’s positively reckless going back in there. ”

“ I strive against the dark that others may live in the light. ”

“ Do you think your tears will bring them back? ”

“ I was a child; what choice did I have? ”

“ When was the last time you had something to eat? ”

“ Speak plainly. I haven’t the time for riddles. ”

“ The bridge of trust has been burned. ”

“ I’ve made a tactical error. ”

“ I thought you might like another cup. ”

“ What if I fail? ”

“ Don’t you have anything better to do? ”

“ This is excellent brandy, by the way. ”

“ You’ve no idea what trouble it is. ”

“ What in heaven’s name have you done? ”

“ Every second is precious now. ”

“ It is not fame I crave; it is immortality. ”

“ You are now resisting the urge to brag. ”

“ You are the most even-tempered man I have ever met. ”

“ You aren’t coming? ”

“ I can see that your heart is troubled… ”

“ The less who know about the find for now, the better. ”

“ Stop that. Don’t be childish. ”

“ I believe I am in charge of my own death. ”

“ I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind. ”

“ It isn’t my fault you don’t have a sense of humor. ”

“ You aren’t half as clever as you think you are, you know. ”

“ I should very much like to kiss you now. ”

“ I should very much like for you to kiss me again. ”

“ May I ask you something? ”

“ You are the first and only girl I’ve ever kissed. ”

“ I wonder what other intelligence he may be privy to. ”

“ Where do your fascinations lie? ”

“ Your passion carries the seeds of damnation, not deliverance. ”

“ I’m beginning to think you’re merely full of shit. ”

“ I would suggest getting some sleep if you can. ”

“ She annoys the hell out of me. ”

“ Cursing is the crutch of an unimaginative mind. ”

“ You are the last person I expected to see. ”

“ Tell me what to say, and I will say it. ”

“ I can’t help but feel that we got off on the wrong foot. ”

“ Of course I pray. I won’t bother asking if you do. ”

“ I’ve no obligation to explain myself to you or to anyone! ”

“ Do not say such things! ”

“ I’d no idea you were a killer. ”

“ You always were a terrible liar. ”

“ You may very well have just signed my death warrant. ”

“ I don’t recall requesting the pleasure of your company. ”

“ I do not think you should lecture me about arrogance or simple human decency. ”

“ You’re easier to read than you may think. ”

“ I don’t care what you want. ”

“ You’re not being honest with me. ”

“ This was an act of revenge: rash, vindictive, heartless, monstrous… ”

“ I never asked to be this. I had no choice or say in it! ”

“ I sacrificed everything for you! ”

“ I owe you nothing. ”

“ I think I’m going to be sick. ”

“ I have no home to return to. ”

“ Of course, you are always welcome to stay with me. ”

“ I am a burden, a hindrance. ”

“ I have saved you from yourself for the last time. ”

“ I shall decide if and when to end her misery. ”

“ You are my eyes in the dark places. ”

“ I haven’t killed anyone for a very long time. ”

“ I am glad to see you. I was afraid you might be… gone. ”

“ It was worth a try, wasn’t it? ”

“ You ask questions when you should be quiet and hold your tongue when you should ask! ”

“ Do you think it means anything that I’ve murdered three times before I’ve fallen in love once? ”

“ I’ve always thought, if heaven is such a wonderful place, why is entering it so absurdly easy? ”

“ So you see there is no need for anyone to keep me human, for there is nothing human in me to keep. ”

“ You know next to nothing about the matter, and I would appreciate it if you dropped it and never brought it up again. ”

“ Please don’t begin the conversation by saying you had nothing better to do or some other insulting remark that you mistake for wit. ”

[hundredsspoons]

There's something I don't understand about long-lived species in Star Rail. Long-winded question under the cut.

So first of all, not every long-lived species has the same biology or lifespan. There's the Xianzhou natives, the Foxians, the Borisin, the Vidyahara, etc. and even among the Xianzhou natives, there seems to be differences of how they became long-lived species. Sushang says her ship has a moon where the Loufu has the tree.

So for the Xianzhou natives, the whole crux of their vendetta against Abundance is that once they have lived long enough, they become mara struck. What that means seems to vary, but confusion and forgetfulness are common symptoms. Often they just outright turn into monsters. In Dan Shu's quest, we see some of these monsters talk to her, so some of them seem to keep their sentience in some form at least. Other times, like in the case of the monster we find the note about the secret treatments, they don't seem to have any intelligence left. And in the case of Jingliu, she doesn't seem to have any physical deformities and continues to be able to fight with a sword, but has changed allegiances.

Whatever exactly it is, the Xianzhou natives fear becoming mara struck and hate the Plagues Author for forcing this fate on them. But here's what I don't understand. They can still die, right? Sushang says she's seen tons of people die. The mara struck appear to fade away after being beaten (though maybe this is just a video game mechanic). When they start to become mara struck, Xianzhou natives are taken to the Hall of Karma, which is said to house the souls of the dead and is the same place where short-lived species who die on the Loufu have their souls housed. In one of the books, a guy says on the eve of him being taken to the Hall of Karma, his father looked more clear headed than he had in a while, much like how we talk about visits from ghosts.

So... isn't becoming mara struck a pretty much completely avoidable fate? They get to live like 1000+ years or whatever, and then they can pass away like any short-lived species? There are still problems with being a long-lived species, like resource consumption and the inability to modify your body, as seen in Dan Shu's quest (though it seems more like discrimination and stigma against the disabled, as well as the violence of the war the Xianzhou claim to have started is what really ruined her life). But I don't really see why the Xianzhou see immortality as a curse without exception? We are told that a lot of long-lived species become resource hungry. We are also told that a lot of the ways to become immortal rely on immoral methods like cannibalism. But for the Xianzhou natives who are immortal from birth because their ancestors ate a fruit or whatever, and who are clearly very careful about resource consumption, what is the problem? They will die one day. Is becoming mara struck such a painful process that even living hundreds or thousands of years longer than you would have not worth it, even though you will probably be killed before becoming fully mara struck? No one likes the idea of forgetting themselves, of course, but that doesn't sound too different from dementia, which is something that affects short-lived species too? Is it because it took many years and the Three Sufferings to figure out how to make the Hall of Karma and deal with the mara struck (idk when the Hall of Karma was made)? Perhaps before that, they actually couldn't die? Do they actually not die in the Hall of Karma? Maybe a bunch of tortured mara struck are just running around in there? Is it the idea that a long life is inherently a horrible thing? Jing Yuan and Yukong are not happy after living long and painful lives. And the books say that with long life came wars over resources, which made everyone miserable. But is that really any different from how short-lived species live? Life is painful, and we often fight each other. So is their problem with Yaoshi basically a religious one, with them saying life is not worth it?

I'm sure we'll get to see to see the side of the Denizens of Abundance at some point. I mean, we're already seeing the hypocrisy of the Xianzhou with Tingyun and (presumably) other shorter-lived long-lived species coveting the lifespans of the natives of the Xianzhou. Plus a lot of the natives of Xianzhou are focused on longevity measures, not just for Outsider Elixir Seekers, but for themselves trying to avoid mara. On top of that, a nation solely devoted to the military and the extermination of particular other species (while expanding its own power across the universe) does just seem like.... obviously sinister lol

Of course, we've already seen a little of what the Denizens of Abundance and mara struck are capable of. They clearly are dangerous and trying to destroy the Xianzhou. And I don't think people like Jing Yuan would just believe and support a war if it was genuinely just all propaganda. I really like the idea of immortality as a disease that takes away bodily autonomy that Star Rail is exploring. But I just don't understand the primary concern of Xianzhou natives, which is that they can't die - when it seems like they can??

[corpocyborg]

2 & 18 for Valerie - for the make your ocs suffer asks

Thank you so much for the ask!! 2) How much death and/or destruction have they wrought?

It depends on which point of her character arc you ask about. The V that existed before the Frankfurt incident had excellent self-control. She wasn't liable to fly off the handle, so if she wrought death or destruction, it was deliberate. She was also unlikely to be driven by motivations like revenge or justice, so she had no real reason not to try to minimize death and destruction in most scenarios. She was more likely to use intimidation, subterfuge, or diplomacy than to leap straight to violence. Johnny leaking into her brain did not bode well for her self-control. There's nothing V hates more than the idea of losing control over herself. But no matter how hard she fought against him, his influence was palpable and growing. His mannerisms, his emotional reactions, even flashes of his thoughts masquerading as her own haunted her. She hated him for it. Hated him more for being just about the only person she couldn't fool. So despite her resistance, or maybe even escalated by her resistance, her self-control waned.

V'd always thought of herself as having a positive outlook. She enjoyed competition, enjoyed facing a challenge, and especially enjoyed overcoming one. So as Johnny's influence made her more aggressive and impulsive, she started to enjoy aggression and the actions associated with it. It was an hideous mimicry not only of Johnny's idealism and passion, but of her own fortitude and daring.

Near the end, as she got closer to the engram surgery Arsaka promised her, there were definitely many cases of death and destruction caused by her that were sadistically motivated. 18) If they could go back in time for 5/10/15 minutes and change something, what would it be?

For this one, I'll focus on post-Mikoshi V since I didn't mention that version of her in the previous one.

Her instinctual answer would be that she'd go back to the day of the Frankfurt incident and try to make sure she was never fired from Arasaka in the first place. The problem with that is she honestly doesn't know what she could have done differently to avoid that outcome. Also, if she hadn't been fired, hadn't stolen the biochip, hadn't teamed up with Goro and ultimately uploaded to Mikoshi, would she have ended up with what she has now? Immortality, strength and abilities well beyond any organic, and a position at Arasaka much higher ranking that she likely would have climbed to in Counter Intel.

It's hard for her to answer the question, actually, because she has such a fundamentally positive outlook. She doesn't put much stock in regrets. They're a waste of time. You pick yourself up and keep going.

She wishes she'd never had to experience what Johnny's engram did to her brain, but at the same time, if she hadn't put his biochip into her head, then she'd be dead. Yet another example of the pointlessness of regrets.

Ultimately, she'd say she has no regrets.

[we-live-we-die-we-live-again]

RULES

These will make things so much easier for everyone involved. Please read these, and understand that any steps outside of the boundaries made in these rules are grounds for being blocked. With no warning, no explanation, and no remorse.

1. I am very open to shipping! Please do not come to me expecting to ship without discussing it with me, first. I will most likely say yes! I just want some heads up that you’re interested.

I will usually say if I am interested in a ship. This does not mean that I am forcing a ship, simply letting someone know that I am open to and interested in that ship.

Shipping With Me Info Meme

OCs and crossover characters are welcome to try and ship but do not just jump in expecting a ship. Desired characters to ship with will be listed on their shipping calls, but I will never, ever force a ship. That being said, I love shipping and will most likely be into it! Just let them have some time.

I do not have exclusive ships and I will ship with multiples of each character. Please be aware of this.

2. HEAVY warnings for: Gore, blood, canon-typical violence, religious themes, trauma, PTSD, regressive coping mechanisms, mental/physical/sexual abuse, unhealthy relationships, drug use, alcohol use, cannibalism, age gap ships, taxidermy of humans/animals, body horror, death, guns/weaponry, abuse, domestic abuse, gaslighting, victim blaming, non/dubcon, cruelty, sociopathy, animal cruelty, animal death, prostitution, slut shaming, coercion, homophobia, racism, mentally ill muses, mental health.

Know that I will not limit myself or my muses in any way if not asked by a specific partner. I will not write rape on this blog, though it can/will be talked about if it happens. Everything is tagged with cw -tag-. If you need something tagged I will tag it happily, just let me know. 

I may forget catch-all tags because I have a memory disorder that makes remembering hard. Please be patient with me and let me know if I forgot to tag something!

ANY HATE that I get is going to be deleted. I am not going to tolerate it on this blog. If you dislike what I write, simply go elsewhere. I will block people that overstep my boundaries, I’d like for you to do the same.

If A Villain is going to be doing anything abusive or cruel to your muse, you need to clear it with me, first. You do not get to play my muse, I get to play my muse, and you may not know how MY portrayal’s abuse works.

My NS/FW tag is (NSFBlood Bags)

For anything else: Please tell me and I will tag whatever you need me to! Just a reminder that I’m not a monster, and I will happily tag whatever is needed. Also, you are always free to ask about what things I tag! I will happily get you a list!

3. If you have an OC, I need to know about them. I would prefer an image and written bio, but at least tell me about them and their relation to my character. Unless you have a good backstory and discuss it with me, no family of them that aren’t canon, please.

4. ABSOLUTELY NO EYE TRAUMA OR DEFECATION. At. All.

5. I have decided to write smut on this blog provided my partner is okay with it. I only talk/plot over DM, I do not rp there. If you cannot do Discord we will figure something else out. I do participate in Sexual Sunday and Hump Day, so Sundays and Wednesdays my memes will be of the horny variety all day.

6. If you have read these rules please say ‘We could be immortals, just not for long!’

7. Please understand that they are somewhat canon-divergent.

8. PLEASE no minors. If I follow you and you are a minor, please let me know. I do not have anything against you, but I am not comfortable rping with underage kids as I am over 30.

9. I operate under “reblog karma” rules. If I reblog a meme from you, I will also send at least one ask from said meme to you. I ask that you do the same for me. If you reblog from me constantly and never interact, it is an instant block.

10. Due to an influx in personal blogs following and not knowing rp blog etiquette: I do not mind if personals follow me. I do not mind if you like my threads. But do not reblog my rps, and do not like my starter calls. I understand that you like the gifs and that is fine, but do not interact with my starter calls. It messes up my bookkeeping system.

11. I have the right and ability to block anyone for any reason. Do not come to me about it. Do not block evade. Do not send your friends after me. I only hardblock, I never softblock.

12. Do not bring drama to my doorstep. I don’t care. I don’t want to be involved. I’m not going to be involved in any kind of call-outs, or any slandering of anyone. I do not condone bullying or harassment. If this applies to you and you do these things, do not interact. Only I decide who I will and won’t interact with.

I have never experienced a callout post that had any factual evidence to it. If I am interacting with an actual predator of some sort and you have actual proof DM me about it. This goes double for minors lying about their age. These are the ONLY exceptions to this rule.

13. I am semi-selective and mutuals only. Due to some recent-ish events, I have decided to become mutuals only. This is because people keep following me and breaking their own DNI. Semi-selective here means that I will write with almost anyone, but I don’t accept one-liners unless it’s a crack thread.

[dzthenerd490]

Personal Log: Dr. Zeek #666

"... The Reset... Everyone knows about it; well, they know the bloody name but not a damn thin' about what it really is. I do though, I existed before it 'happened, how the bloody root do I know? Because I'm Dr. Clef. 

Now i know wat yah thinking, dr. Zeek yah a stubby shawrt of a sixpack. You're not Dr. Clef, you don't look like him, you don't sound like him, you were born in Australia and never had anything to do with the GOC. Most importantly, you don't even act like the super intelligent, brave, handsome... slightly sexist... but legendary Dr. Clef. Your bloody right I don't act nothing like Dr. Clef... because that's not who I am anymore. 

Since the Reset happened, I was reborn as an entirely different person, just like everyone else in The Reset. I lived a different life, had different motives, and thus became completely different. I remember being such a gun nut and loved to play on my ukulele but now, I actually really hate violence... also I'm more of a painter now. I mean I'm not against violence, but I only enjoy watching it happen to buggers who deserve it, like a bloody fucking predators. I guess reincarnation really changes a person. Though somethings don't really change, my daughter was still born, she had the same name and everything despite me never meeting her old lady in this life. I don't know how that's possible, but it is somehow. 

Thats the first thing that doesn't make sense about The Reset, so many things changed yet so many things remained consistent. For example, in the prime universe the Foundation was created in 1918 after World War 1 ended. Which was also the time SCP-106 was born in case anyone was curious. Anyways in this reality the Foundation was actually founded in 1788 when members of the Commission of Unusual Cargo met with the Illuminati.

Now mind ya, the Commission of Unusual Cargo is SUPPOSED to be one of the founder organizations but not the Illuminati. Which is weird because there were people on both side who were both immortal and knew the Foundation would eventually exist. Though regardless, because they knew they decided to get a head start and form it earlier than any of the other major Groups of Interest. Don't really know where those guys are now maybe their dead or maybe they're the current O5 and Ethics Commitee don't know and if I tried to find out the Red Right Hand would surely kill me.

But anyways because they knew so much, they managed to anticipate a majority of the anomalies and contain them before they would activate or cause serious damage. They even found better ways to contain some like SCP-106 and SCP-096. For SCP-096 they made sure the pictures were never taken and got some blind hunters to find it and contain it. For SCP-106 he was captured before he wiped out that city... you know the one. Though SCP-682 was unfortunately still able to eat the fetus of SCP-231-4 and thus gained its power of immortality before we could kill it. Can't get them all, I guess. 

Though as time went on things were getting weird as there were new anomalies that weren't supposed to exist. The first one that raised red flags was SCP-AFD though at the time of discovery, it was called SCP-001. Apparently, the founders figured it was more deserving of the title though The Reset was still placed as another candidate for SCP-001. However, as time went on more and more like them were getting discovered. These things, these new anomalies... I mean regular anomalies aren't supposed to exist, but these ones REALLY weren't supposed to exist. Some were cool, some were scary, some were funny... Then we found the few that were absolute bloody nightmares.

Thats when it became clear that numbers weren't enough anymore, we had to separate the ones that we knew everything about form the ones we knew nothing. Hence why some are labeled by numbers and others are labeled by letters. Those that are labeled by letters are the ones that existed after the Reset and those with numbers existed before.

Hm... I think that's all there is to know about The Reset... Oh, wait there's the one thing that's the biggest mystery of the Reset. No one knows when it started. Like I said I was Dr. Clef before The Reset and I remember everything that happened but... I don't know when it all ends, and the Reset starts. I just can't remember it for some reason, like I got all the pieces, and I SHOULD be able to see it but... I can't, my mind literally can't comprehend when the Reset happened or what even caused it. In fact, the more I think about it the more everything leading to it makes no sense, so The Reset ends up making no sense. Blech! Bloody hell... Fucking bollocks.

Though if there's anything good about the Reset it's that the Foundation and by extension the O5 could learn from their mistakes. Especially with the SCP-3002 disaster, Iris that poor Shelia, she didn't deserve that shit, nor does she deserve to remember every horrible thing the O5 did to her... what I did to her and her friends. Though I am glad she's doing better, her and Meri are even going out and planning on getting married soon. Good for them, after all the hell they went through both those Shelia's deserve all the happiness in the world after going through such hell.

Well, I don't really have anything else to say except... Welcome to the Family... if you know that that means then sorry, if you don't then... still sorry. But now you know why there was no warning when you opened this file. 

Personal Log, Doctor Harvey Zeek. Signing out."

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SCP: HMF Tales Hub