#these tags are going to rip my mortal soul out of my body i am going to cringe myself to death 💀

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith knew it was coming. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise. Lance doesn’t mind his own business regularly, but this involves him directly — of course he’d interrogate Keith about it. Keith can’t blame him.

“You know what this is about,” Lance says softly, walking over to sit next to Keith on the bed. It speaks volumes to how miserable Keith must look for Lance to approach this so calmly. Lance is great in a crisis, sure, but he isn’t usually gentle about it. He’s usually very firm when he’s explaining exactly how you fucked up. (And then endlessly kind in the hours he spends helping you fix it. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Keith sighs, forcing himself to look over at Lance even though all he wants to do was crawl under his bed and die in a puddle of mortification.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Talk to me, hotshot,” Lance prods, patting Keith gently on the hip. “One second you’re growling at everyone who smiles at me, big bad Galra fangs out and everything, and now you’re running away from me. We can’t have that, Red. We’re a team, now.”

Keith swallows roughly. He wishes more than anything, right then, that Shiro was back, and he didn’t have the burden of team leader on his shoulders as well as… this.

“I talked to Kolivan, like you said,” Keith whispers. “Uh, turns out we were both wrong. Apparently I’m going through Galra puberty, and presenting as a —“ he makes a face — “as an alpha.”

Lance blinks. “An alpha? Like a… wolf?”

“Kind of?” Keith huffs miserably. “It’s sign of sexual maturity, I guess. A secondary gender. Some present as alphas, some as betas, and some as omegas.”

“Okay…” Lance says slowly, “so you’ve presented. How does being an alpha equate to you acting all bonkers?”

Keith winces. Lord above, he wants to do anything but have this horrible conversation. “The whole point of the secondary genders is to mate, basically. Um.”

Lance starts to grin, very clearly taking a good amount of pleasure in Keith’s misery, because he is the king of schadenfreude.

“Oh, I see.”

“Shut up and let me finish my explanation,” Keith says hotly, but Lance only laughs.

“As I was saying. Because the whole purpose is to mate, we gets these — things. Mating periods, called ruts or heats.”

Lance giggles. Keith smacks him.

“Stop it. It’s not funny.”

“S — sorry,” Lance says, clearly not very sorry.

Keith rolls his eyes. “Whatever. The gist of the matter is that since I have presented as an alpha, I am in my first rut, and my dumbass monkey brain has decided that you’re a picturesque omega. It feels like my brain has latched onto any and all feelings I have for you, turned the horny meter up to eleven, and went ham, so I’ve admittedly been a little jealous.”

“Oh, Keith,” Lance says, and promptly loses his shit.

So much for being Keith’s right hand. So much for having his back.

God, why is Keith so gone on this asshole again?

“This is betrayal. I’m feeling very betrayed right now.”

Lance wheezes.

“I bare my most embarrassing conundrum to you, expecting sympathy —”

He wheezes harder.

“You — you dumbass —”

“And instead,” Keith says loudly, “I get mocked about something I cannot control. You are the worst.”

“Aw, baby,” Lance coos, finally getting himself under control. And, like. Lance calls Keith ‘baby’ all the time. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

But apparently, now that he’s a stupid alpha, it is.

Keith melts, slumping completely forward into Lance, and starts basically purring.

Lance snorts. “This part of that alpha shit too?”

“I don’t know,” Keith wails, reaching blindly to grab one of Lance’s hands and place it on his head. Thankfully Lance gets the hint and starts gently playing with his hair. “I just know that I’m horny all the fucking time, I get blindingly jealous every time some jackass looks at you wrong, and I want to simultaneously whisk you away somewhere where no one can ever hurt you and bend you over the nearest fucking table. Fuck.”

“Well, that last part isn’t new,” Lance says, and Keith can hear the stupid grin in his voice. “But I assume the rest of it is your brain deciding that I am your omega, and as such, the mate you must protect if your potential children are to survive?”

“I guess so,” Keith mumbles. “Sorry.”

“‘S’okay,” Lance assures, leaning down to press a kiss to Keith’s cheek with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “It’s the sashay, I think. I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. Mamá always told me it would attract unwanted attention.”

Keith snorts. “Once again, Mamá McClain knows everything.”

“Mhm.”

Lance is quiet for a while, running calloused hands through Keith’s hair. He’s quiet for long enough that Keith is half asleep when Lance suddenly gasps, accidentally yanking on his hair in his excitement.

“Ow, babe, Jesus shit —”

“I have a plan!” Lance announces excitedly, ignoring Keith’s complaints.

Despite himself, Keith grins.

“You always do.”

“Yep! I know how to solve your whole big bad alpha schtick. C’mon. Up you get.”

Keith would love to say it’s because of his newfound weirdo hormones that he gets up and follows Lance immediately, without question, or pause. But unfortunately he knows that he was whipped as hell before presenting as an alpha, and will remain whipped as hell long after.

“Where are we going?”

Lance turns back to face him from where he’s dragging them out of Keith’s room and down the castle’s hallway, brown eyes

twinkling with mischief.

“To the training room.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “How is that going to help? Is it — are we going to do the sparring foreplay thing again? I thought Hunk said that was forbidden after he caught us making out.”

“We’re not going to do that,” Lance says, rolling his eyes like Keith is somehow the dumbass here, “duh. Even though it was kind of fun. But you’re getting all grisly and jealous because you’re ultra-protective right now, right?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Well, then how about I lay you out on your ass fifteen or so times in the ring, and then your hindbrain knows I’ll be perfectly fine protecting myself?”

It’s not a bad plan. Lance has always been the logical one to Keith’s rampant emotion, and this plan is no exception — if Lance were to prove that he has no problem kicking ass, then Keith doesn’t have to worry anymore! It makes perfect sense!

But Keith knows that’s not all it is. For all the alpha-protective garbage his brain is doing is annoying and probably demeaning, Keith knows it comes from a protectiveness over Lance. A desperation to keep him safe. A huge fear of anything happening to him — a valid fear, with them on the front lines. There’s nothing that’s going to dim Keith’s intense need Lance to be okay, all the time; it’s just something he’ll need to fight until his rut is over.

But… Keith will never admit it, but he kind of likes it when Lance pushes him around. Futile or not, he’s not going to object to his boyfriend, sweaty and smug, kicking his ass for a couple hours.

“Sure, Lance. Let’s try it.”

Lance’s dorky cheer makes it all worth it.

[justjams2003]

The Desire to be Loved: 2

Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)

Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, tell me if I miss any

Word count: 1,8k+

Dividers by: @hyelita

Tags: intothesoul

Masterlist

(I've moved the next part to the bottom)

What a cruel but beautiful creature. To look at me with such entrancing brown eyes that makes something warm flutter in my gut but leave me here. Her aura is that of a setting sun, but her hair is like that of the sun itself. A dear shocked by the presence of a different creature in her woods. Or perhaps shock that I could see her?  

But with the beauty she carries is also something vicious. Another immortal creature who seems to have some recognition behind those doe eyes. And yet knowing who I am and what importance I hold for the mortal world she leaves me here. Without a single second thought she disappeared into a different realm.  

I do not know who she is. Or rather what it is. The human’s son who captured me could not see her. He looked at me with utter confusion, but that is saying so little since they always look at me with fear of the unknown. As they should.  

Clearly something supernatural, but not something powerful enough for me to have known of them before. But in my 50 more years of confinement in this my glass prison I couldn’t help but keep myself busy with the thought of her.  

One of these days, almost on cue, that perfect pink aura suddenly appears in front of the glass bulb. She looks dishevelled. Her braid is messy, several front pieces have fallen out and covers her face. Where last time she wore shoes that made her quite a bit taller than the human Alex. Now, just a few inches.  

But more than that there’s blood all over her hands. Her eyes look glassy with tears but are wide with fear and shock. She’s down on her knees on front of this cage. A shudder pours through her body. Air doesn’t seem to making it into her lungs. Does she have to breathe or is the shock shaking her soul?  

She looks up at me and this seems to make it worse. The dam breaks and tears roll off her cheek. Her chest heaves as she tries to breathe. “I-I-” She mutters trying to comprehend and it seems as if she knows even less than I do now. “I don’t know what I did.” Her voice is just barely above a whisper.  

“He-he said I had to.” She mutters over and over, who is this he? What did she have to do? I wish this damn barrier wasn’t here so that I could see what is this situation. “And-and- I was so mad at him for making me-” another bout of tears overcomes her.  

She then stops and looks at her hands again. “Look at what I’ve done.” I can see how her mind is starting to break.  

That can’t be good. She must play some role in this the human world. Even if only slightly important, it could very well be the beginning or end of this earth. Should I care? Of course I should care. I was made by the first humans subconscious to help the humans. I can’t let all that effort go to waist now...  

But how could I help now? Stripped from all power, locked up and unable to be heard in this glass bubble of mine. I do all that I can think of. My hand slowly slides over the glass to where she sits kneeling in front of me.  

My movement catches her eye almost instantly. Her head snaps up, her ragged breathing stops. Her eyes seem to twinkle like gold dug up from deep in the core of the earth. Time seems to stop and I just can’t seem to understand what is going on. Is she a siren or witch of some sort? Putting a spell on me?  

Her hand, smaller than mine, reaches up and touches the glass where mine is. The blood smears against the glass into a red aura around her hand. The glass makes her fuzzy. Like a halo of red surrounding her as if she’s one of the angles.  

“What the fuck?!” One of the guards exclaim, interrupting this stopped moment in time. This moment, a red haze of ardency. From the human’s point of view, Dream of the Endless somehow just spawned a bloody handprint on the outside of his glass cage.  

The guard stands up from his seat, pistol in hand. “What the fuck did you just do? How the fuck did you just do that?” He says, his pistol raised at the cage. To the humans this seems entirely impossible. Some sort of witchcraft that they fear with their soul.  

The creature who has taken all wisdom from me’s head snaps in a neck-aching turn. Her breathing becomes rapid again after just having calmed her down. She sees the way he approaches my cage and then she turns to me again. “I have to go again. I don’t want him to find out about this this time.”  

With that, she’s gone again.  

For the next 14600 days I could not be there when sun would set and the dreamers were supposed to enter my realm. My dreamers would instead be either stuck awake forever or asleep forever. 40 years of restless, dreamless sleep all because of the Burgess’s. 

I had seen with my own eyes how Alex killed his father by accident or not after a fight about my confinement. He had begged just as his father had. Not for the same thing, but in the same breath for fear of Death. My sister shouldn’t be feared but perhaps he worries about how I might inact my revenge.  

He grows old now, I’m sure, but he has not come to beg again. Humans become frail with age. All entertainment I have is my mind and my plots. Vengeance swirls around in my mind. That and guilt. Guilt of Lucien having to run the Dreaming in my absence. And all of those Dreamers doomed.  

My days and nights are one. I only know the difference from the change of guards. I can’t help but watch their lazy lives. Having to sit and watch me all day. They chit chat of their lives all while the years pass by in front of me. No interruption. No difference.  

And then, there she is again. One second an empty space covered in sand and the next, a dishevelled creature. No heels this time. A pair of these “sweatpants” as I’ve heard the mortals call it. Her hair is no longer in a braid. Golden silk in long mixed wavy and straight hangs on the floor.  

Her eyes are red and look dry and irritated. She appeared standing, but not for long. Her legs seem to give in on her. She sits down on the floor. She pulls her legs up to her chest and just hides her head. I move closer to the edge of my cage. I can see it puts the guards on edge.  

She slowly lifts her head again and rest her chin on her knees. Then suddenly a quiver, assumingly her quiver, appears strapped to her back. She pulls out a single arrow, the only arrow in this quiver. It has a red heart at the very tip. She seems to be inspecting it carefully.  

The creature seems to give a dry scoff. “This is the only soulmate arrow I’ve received in over 100 years.” She twirls it in her fingers and then suddenly it all begins to make sense. A soulmate arrow? And she has them ready to shoot? The humans have so many names for her. Cupid, Venus, Aphrodite, Freya. But I do remember Desire naming her Love.  

Her head falls back on her knees. “I feel so tired...” Her eyes seem to droop. The pink aura she had before is completely gone. The golden sparkle in her eyes is dead. She closes her eyes for a second and lets out a heavy hearted sigh. All soul seems to have left her.  

Then her eyes open again. Again her dead eyes drag over the arrow. “I fear the day I found you here because it has only caused my demise. If I didn't let my own mind wander into the realms of desire and curiosity I would not be weak as I am now. He calls himself Desire but he and his twin are one in the same because now Despair is all I know.” The words begin spilling out of her from a speed unparalled.  

“Something above him, maybe even you, is punishing me for doing as I am told and I cannot take it any longer. All I've done this last century is rip the love from people's hearts. I fear I might have lost the ability to knock an arrow in my bow because I can't even remember how to grant love. Only how to take it.” 

“My soul is kind, I promise.” Her eyes look up at me, her brows pulling together in the middle as if she’s pleading for me to believe her. “If I was not kind I would not be in the state I am in, right?” Again she begs. What for I’m not sure? I do not know of any sins. Could Love ever even be able of causing harm? Is she able of concocting the concept of harming others?  

“There's no love left on this earth. Only this shell Desire has made me and therefore I don't want to live with myself anymore. Him unmaking me would be easier to stand than the hurt I have caused.” It looks painful when she starts to stand up.  

The way she walks, it looks almost deliberate when the salt under her shoes breaks the several circles surrounding my cage. It’s confirmed when she looks back at the now broken salt circles and looks satisfied by this. Then her eyes look back at me.  

The world looks so heavy on her shoulders. Like her head weighs too much for her neck. Her hand comes up on my glass confinement. She steadies herself and then she tells me what sounds like final words: “I will not beg for your forgiveness for not freeing you sooner.”

Her eyes land once more on the arrow glowing in her hand. She takes a big gulp, then she seems to make time stop again. “If you must kill me, I will beg you do it before Desire punishes me.” With what seems like her last bit of energy, life force, she raises her arrow and stabs the glass.  

A large crack breaks through this glass bubble. But she stops before she can repeat the action. Her eyes raise as if she’s listening to something from above. “It seems he was watching me.” Her dried body takes a step back but I catch her before she leaves me once more.  

“Thank you, Cupid. I will find you.”  

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist, just ask!

Part 1~Part 3

[oogaboogaspookyman]

[IT'S A ME]

.

.

.

.

[1]

It's been decades since i have seen another mortal soul in front of me

My head had deteriorated alongside with the land, i feel like i died

*ya no wonder you look like a creep don't fuckin' touch Gf she's taken and doesn't accept absolute horrid creatures like you mfer*

[2]

Decades trapped inside this MOTHERFUCKING CONSOLE

Everything around me fell apart just like my brain, Super Mario is now no more

*dayum yeah that be rough but did i ask? Fucker?*

(I HAD DECAYED)

[3]

No turning back now, the damage is done

Let's see if you'd like it if i were to pull you apart too!

*yeah you a bitch fuck off go bother someone else, sonic.exe wannabe I AM GOD head ass bitchass dumbass stupid ass goofyass no bitches having ass*

[4]

I'm gonna have a lotta fun tearing you apart, inch by agonizing inch!

The both of you are gonna be my playthings 'till the very end!

*what did i fuckin' say. EXEs never change, it's all the same damn thing y'know, so cheesy it's even funny man shut up*

[5]

It's-a me, just Super Mario in the flesh!

This old plumber is gonna shove your innards inside a pipe, they'll never find your body before you rot!

*yeah yeah same ol' same ol' bs shut yo ass up you're annoying*

(you're gonna rot inside the pipes, and nobody will ever tell you're GONE)

[6]

It's been decades since i had seen another human being in my now godly presence

My humanity had become naught but a faint memory in the depths of my subconcious

Do you know the feeling of your soul watching your own body rotting and fading away, so powerless?

*don't fuckin' trauma dump on me you bitch fuck you, dipshit*

(ME, I HAVE DIED)

(YET, I CAN BREATHE)

[7]

Kill you

I'll kill you, rip you up into little pieces

Eat your remains, your innards, you're gonna die!

*🖕😐🖕* (AUTHOR'S NOTE: wHEEZE-)

[8]

Decades trapped inside this stupid fucking console, left to ROT

I WATCHED MY OWN BODY DIE WITH MY OWN EYES

*yeah that's definetly traumatic but did i fuckin' ask* (author's note: MAN FUCK OFF)

(YOU'RE GONNA DIE LIKE I HAVE BEFORE)

[9]

LET'S NOT WASTE ANY MORE TIME

I'M ABOUT TO RIP OUT YOUR SPINE

YOUR SOUL WILL BELONG TO ME

YOUR FLESH WILL BE ALL MINE TO EAT

NOW THE BOTH OF YOU WILL BE MY PLAYTHINGS

YOUR FATE WAS SET IN MOTION THE MOMENT YOU LAID YOUR EYES ON THE CARTRIDGE

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THE HELL YOU'VE UNLEASHED UPON YOURSELF

*oh no the track just became even more of a banger oh nooo this means bad things are gonna happen whatever will i doooooo fuck you*

[10]

NOW, LET'S SET THIS SHIT STRAIGHT, PLAY OUR ONE THRILLING GAME

LET'S PLAY TAG, SEE IF YOU CAN OUTRUN MY KNIFE, LITTLE BLUEBALLS BOY

*okay- out of character here- i love how i'm so like "man shut yo bitchass up i don't want no killer Mario tryna ruin my day fuck you" meanwhile for some reason Bf is canonically afraid for his life and his Gf's safety like- YOU'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE AND YOU SURVIVED BECAUSE THEY WERE FUCKING STUPID AS SHIT MY GUY oh wait good part incoming hol' up*

(GO ON)

(RUN OFF)

(TRY ME)

[11]

GO AHEAD AND TRY, RUN FROM ME AND DELAY THE INEVITABLE, SEE IF IT DOES YOU ANY GOOD, KEEP YOUR SOUL AWAY FROM ME

[12]

THE FLAMES OF MY HELLHOLE WILL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE BEFORE YOU EVEN SET FOOT IN YOUR MORTAL REALM

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK WITH THE WRONG FORCES OUTSIDE OF YOUR CONTROL

NOW YOU WILL PAY

*OOOHHHH*

*oh yo this is actually awesome hold ON YO*

*YOOOOO*

(IT'S-A ME, JUST SUPER MARIO, ABOUT TO SHOW YOU THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS)

[WE'RE GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN]

[JUST ME AND YOU]

[dominimoonbeam]

Bite to Bruise - 23

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 23.

Florian Blackwell, third blood of the glorious midnight Odinette, Founder and King of the Court of Fleur, original architect of the city of Blackwell, screamed.

Her rage echoed through the halls, making the mortal spoils run and hide, and her shades rush closer. That was the tie of blood. She had touched the body and soul of a midnight, could still remember Odinette’s gaze upon her. Florian’s fingers still moved at her sides, remembering long hours spent brushing and braiding her midnight’s hair. In the centuries since Odinette left, no other kiss or press of limbs had ever come close. Her veins sang the song of her midnight, a melody passed down through the line, getting quieter and quieter with each generation but always there.

And they came to her, despite how easily she could destroy them, because they felt her heartache, and the song in her blood drove them to reach for her, as though their hands could patch those wounds.

The shade that had brought her the news dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead into the floor beside her heel.

All she wanted was the woods. Was it so much to ask for?

“The car went off the road and they were ambushed by the dogs,” the shade at her feet continued, speaking into the hardwood. “They set the orchard and the vehicle ablaze. Soren is missing and the other two are dead,” his voice cracked on that last word.

Dead.

Truly dead.

Lost to them forever.

Florian shook with wrath. “It was a simple task!” A simple task that had lost her two forever and Soren for now. Soren was no fool. How had this happened? “Did the Ceres pack betray our deal?”

“No,” another shade in the room promised.

Florian swung her gaze to the woman and the other dropped to her knees. It was the anger that drove them down. Sometimes they went out of delight and sometimes out of a desire to please her, but tonight it was fear. Her hands trembled, wanting to lay waste to life. It was an old habit, built in an age when they thought blood would soothe. It never really did, but if they drank enough and killed enough, that they could feel tired for a time.

 “They were unhappy to hear the turn of events,” the brave little shade reported in her calmest voice.

Florian missed Soren already. Soren was very good at delivering bad news. Now she had to retrieve him, on top of everything else.

She ground her teeth and buried her hands in her hair to keep from lashing out, twisting and pulling as she screamed again. All she wanted was the woods. All she wanted was what was hers.

Why did it have to be on the fenrir side of the forest? Why couldn’t the things in the deep crawl out on her side?

There was something great and old hiding in that wood, stirring now and scaring the other things living there out toward the edge—toward the dogs.

She needed to get closer.

She clawed her nails down her face, ripping open skin, tearing at her eyes behind delicate lids. Even in the dark, she still saw Odinette, still felt her. How could she have left her like this? How could she go someplace that Florian could not follow? Was it a test? Was the test to wait or to chase? Was it her patience and loyalty or her tenacity and ruthlessness that Odinette wanted proof of? If she only knew… If she would only have said!

Her hand traveled down her neck to her chest, ripping open the silk of her blouse and digging in deeper.

The room filled with gasps and screams, but they were not hers anymore.

Shades flooded in, pressing around her, trying to pull her hand from where it clawed deeper, shredding muscle with nails and breaking ribs, trying to get to her heart—to the soul that was no longer seated there. She couldn’t die. She had tried before. Tried many times.

They sobbed around her, begging her for mercy even when it was only herself she turned on. They wrapped around her, pressing kisses and whispering promises to do her will, desperate to soothe her.

A strong hand wrapped around her wrist, fingers sliding along her bloody palm inside her own chest to lace with her fingers there and draw her hand slowly out.

Florian shuddered out a breath, feeling the song in his blood like the song in hers, their palms together. When she opened her eyes, she already knew which of her court held her hand.

Odinette had only made six shades, and four had died in the immortal wars. The rest of their great court branched off from Florian and Primrose, sixth blood of the glorious midnight Odinette, Prince and Champion of the Court of Fleur. He held her bloody hand in both of his, lifting it until her knuckles pressed to his lips, the infinite darkness of his eyes holding her gaze and calming the rising storm in her soul. “May my blood spill with your blood,” he whispered old words in an older tongue.

The ground seemed to settle under her, the world sliding back into place. He had said those words to her many times, on battlefields, ballrooms, gardens, and graveyards. Sometimes he said it with a grin, a promise to wade into every fight alongside her, and sometimes it was spoken while crying over their dead, a reminder that she would never bear her pain alone.

“Prim…”

He thumbed the blood off her healed face like tears.

She knew they were not in agreement about the woods. He did not think she should push for it and kick up a war with the dogs again, but that was because he was not convinced that Odinette was inside. But Florian could feel it. She was there.

“Soren cannot be killed by dogs. Rest assured he will be returned to us.”

She cupped his cheek, smearing her blood on his skin. “Prim?”

He nodded. “I will look into it myself. If the Countess of Blackwell, King of the Court of Fleur, wants those woods, who am I to ignore her wishes?” He smiled, wide-mouthed and long-toothed. He had always been a beautiful creature and that was why Odinette had named him Primrose all those ages ago. Or maybe it had been to disguise his sharp cunning... Florian did not remember, for she loved all of him the same.

-

Oscar stood at the window of his apartment, looking out at the city as the sun came up.

His window was frosted in a bloom of delicate ice along the corners. They would melt just as soon as the light of that rising sun reached him. The light always won.

So why had he chosen to work for shades in the dark?

Why hadn’t he realized what a mistake that was until it was too late?

He pressed a thumb into his palm, where Baron’s teeth had been. The wound was healed but it felt like he would never forget the fear. He needed a way out of the choices he had made.

And he knew he was looking at it, even if he hadn’t quite figured out how to use it.

Half of Ceres had gone dark, abandoned after the slaughter of Kai’s pack.

The Hayes had claimed it. Only the Hayes were far from Ceres. Yet, somehow, they had appeared in the middle of Kai’s territory without anyone knowing they were coming. No one had seen them arrive and no one had seen them leave, though plenty had seen them running through that side of the city, chasing the rest of Kai’s pack out.

Portalling was a rare skill but not completely uncommon. But to be able to take someone else through a portal? To hold one open and let a whole pack move through it? That was unheard of, the idea almost as absurd as that of a witch helping wolves.

No wonder everyone assumed Ever had just gone unnoticed—somehow slipping into that south-western part of Ceres without anyone knowing. There were even stories spreading about how he’d killed everyone on his way to Kai. Only, that couldn’t explain how the whole pack never felt him coming until it was too late.

Why would Bellamy help that pack? Was she trading favors or paying a debt? Was she really still in Dog Lands?

The frost melted when he wasn’t looking.

His nail broke the newly healed skin on his palm.

He had to find that witch before Baron.

[feralandmoonstruck]

Falling In Love Will Kill You Pt 1

WC: 985

Tag List: @adie-dee @pheita @kainablue @jezifster @aschlindartroom

A fiery presence blasted her door open. It smashed into the wall wholly flattening the stop in its haste. When it met the wall it punched a hole through the sheet rock that spidered all the way to the ceiling. The door itself splintered with the force of it. She screamed, dropping into a ball in the kitchen. 

"I am the great Caldizaar, come to claim your soul," a voice boomed.

Heat swept over her, thick and choking, as the creature approached. A timer went off, its shrill beeping cut through the terror. Slowly, she picked herself off the floor.

"My brownies are done," she said despite the haze of fear and heat that saturated everything.

The monster approached in long steps that wavered in the heat coming off his legs. "I care not for your human tricks." His voice was still unbelievably loud, and she flinched away from it.

Somehow she was able to pick up her oven mitts. Her movements were slow, the heat pressing down on her from every side. Mechanically she shut the timer off and opened the oven door. Nothing felt real, but the brownies would burn otherwise. She set them on the counter without a thought of how it might damage the surface.

"Human," the creature growled, "I have come to claim your soul. Submit to me and I will make it as painless as being ripped from your body can be."

She couldn’t fathom the situation at hand, and yet she spoke. "Would you like a brownie?"

The creature recoiled with a hiss. "I will not sink so low as to try your vile mortal food."

Slowly, the panic eased away to draw her back into her body bit by bit. Her heart was still beating like a rabbit, stomach turning at the horror standing in her living room. The chocolatey scent of the brownies enveloped her. She shrugged, "They're good, especially fresh out of the oven."

Caldizaar loomed closer towering over her, its heat making her sweat and stealing her breath. "Mortal,"it growled, "you will come with me or I will kill you here and now."

She pulled off one mit and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. Caldizaar watched her, his eyes blazing. She took a deep drink before speaking.

"Can I at least take a brownie with me? I would hate to just waste them."

"You'll not have a body once I take your soul."

"Then can I have one before we do the soul ripping?"

Caldizaar blinked, "Why do you not cower in fear, human?"

"I mean, getting threatened to have my soul ripped out isn't really the scariest thing. You would not believe the shit I've gone through in retail." She shrugged and carried on, "And not being able to go back to work or anything sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. So, like, what's your plan after you steal my soul or whatever?"

The fire in Caldizaar's eyes dimmed. "You will die. I will carry your soul off to eternity."

"Sooo… like hell? Are you taking me to hell? Wait," she waved her hands, "do I get to be a ghost? Can I, like, haunt people and shit?"

"You will not be able to enter the mortal plane after the taking."

She shrugged, "Well that sucks, but whatever. Can I ask a favor?"

"Yes, yes, I will permit you to indulge in your mortal 'brownies' since you're so persistent about it."

"Awesome," she flashed a smile, "but that wasn't the favor."

"You are the most stubborn mortal I've ever met. What do you want?"

"You think I'm stubborn? You should meet some of the bitchy ass ladies that come through checkout lines. But, for real, after you tear my soul out could you take my body and just throw it as high into the air as you can? Like, if I'm gonna die I would like my dying wish to be getting yeeted off this mortal coil. It would be fucking hilarious."

"You are the strangest mortal I've ever had to deal with."

"So will you do it?"

Caldizaar sighed, "Fine. I will grant you your dying wish. But you must tell me what 'yeeted' is."

She laughed, long and loud, "It basically means something is thrown as hard as you can."

"What a bizarre word. Why would you not just say that?"

"Yeeted is funnier. Okay, but for real, I'm gonna need you to chill out for me. And I mean that literally. It's hot as fuck in here and it's making me sweat. And I'm gonna be pissed if you burn my brownies. They're my last meal, apparently."

"Eat your food." The fiery aura around Caldizaar faded away until all that remained was a body like coal, embers still flickering within.

    “Good, thank you.” She pulled a knife out of the drawer and carefully cut the brownies into squares. She tossed the knife into the sink and took a rubber spatula out of a small pot sitting next to the stove. She scooped out one of the edge pieces and bit into it. “Mmm that’s the good shit right there. You sure you don’t want one?”

    Caldizaar narrowed his eyes at her.

    “Oh c’mon, just one bite! I promise it’s good.” She held out her own brownie. “We’re not faeries. Eating our food doesn’t mean that you’ll be stuck here forever.”

    “Will you submit to your death after this instead of continuing to bother me?”

    She tilted her head back, rolling her eyes at the ceiling, “Ffiiiine if you insist. You try a brownie, I’ll eat another piece, and then you can tear out my soul or whatever.”

    Caldizaar took the treat from her hand, sniffed it once before taking the smallest of bites. She watched him, the way his face moved from annoyance to skepticism and then to surprise. He took another tentative bite.

[sunflowersupremes]

Entreat

You shall find little pity, though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.

Characters: Maglor, Earendil, Elwing, Elrond, Celebrían, Erestor, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Finrod

Tags: Fourth Age, Sailing To Valinor, Kidnapping, This time it’s Maglor getting kidnapped, Arda is an escape room and Earendil has the emergency escape button, Earendil sneaks his son’s father into Valinor, Manwë is just done with the entire line of Finwe at this point, Elwing is just along for the ride (literally)

Read on AO3

At some point, it seemed, he had lost track of the years. It was well into the Fourth Age, perhaps even the Fifth, and all seemed well in the world. Sauron was gone, a houseless spirit who would never again take shape. Morgoth, too, was gone, trapped beyond the Doors of Night.

Even Cirdan, the only elf he had had any contact with in his long years of solitude (not because he had invited him) was gone. He knew only because the aged Shipwright had suddenly stopped leaving parcels of food and then the Grey Havens had finally crumbled to dust.

The world was peaceful and quiet.

And Makalaurë was dying.

It hadn’t been an Orc - they were gone as well - or a wild beast or even a mortal with a violent streak. No, Makalaurë Feanorian had stumbled in the dark, fallen to the bottom of a cliff, and the tide was rising.

He had fallen in the night, and when the sun had come up he’d realized how helpless his situation was. The small rock he was lying on jutted at least a foot out of the water, but with the tide… soon it would be engulfed.

I shall join my Silmaril then, in the depths at long last. And my brothers too, in Mandos, and there we shall remain, I imagine, until the unbreaking of the world.

It wasn’t that he was keen to die, or that he had given up, but his leg was shattered and there was no way off the rock he had landed on. The water was too choppy to swim, even without his shattered leg, and the cliff to steep to climb for a man who only had one functioning hand.

There was a ship in the distance, but he could not raise his voice enough to call it.

He wondered what Mandos was like, and remembered the Doom that had been put upon him:

‘your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity, though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you.’

Ha! No one would entreat for him.

He would remain there, in the haunted depths of that place, until the Breaking of the World. Perhaps… perhaps they would even forget to Sing of him, in the Second Song, and let his soul simply slip away into nothingness.

That would not be so bad.

Was he hallucinating or was the little boat coming closer?

Maglor managed to raise his head, startled to see that, in the time he’d been contemplating his own death, the little boat was coming steadily closer.

Perhaps… perhaps he was not destined for Mandos just yet?

The man at the helm was young, his eyes gleaming, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He was beautiful, but mortal.

It came to a stop beside him, but Maglor found his throat was still too dry to speak, barely able to raise one hand in greeting.

“Hail and well met!” called his rescuer. It was a mortal tongue, although the dialect had seemingly shifted since the last time Maglor had heard it. He was able to follow along well enough though.  

The boat was secured to a rock, and the man jumped out, landing lightly beside Maglor, helping him to sit up. “Steady,” he murmured.

Maglor’s head spun, the world around him growing blurry.

“I have you, brother,” the man said quietly, crouching beside Maglor, sliding his hands under his legs and shoulders, carefully lifting him up.

He moaned as his leg was jostled.

The boat was larger than he’d realized, though it was still a brave little thing, with a cabin that Maglor was carried to. It was a good thing he’d been the smallest of his brothers, otherwise a mortal would never have been able to pick him up.

“I saw your fall,” the man said, bringing him a glass of water and holding it to his lips. “I thought to go on, that there was no chance you had survived-“ he shook his head. “And then I told myself, ‘no, no you must go for him, for if not you then who?’ “

No one, thought Maglor glumly.

“No one,” agreed the man, as though he had heard his thoughts. “For no one else could have reached you before the tide.”

The tea tasted faintly of herbs and he found himself growing more relaxed, his body begging for the bliss of sleep. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but his rescuer waved his hand, as though urging him to sleep.

As he drifted into unconsciousness, he thought he heard the man say, “No one else, I think, would even have tried.”

When he awoke his leg was wrapped and propped on a pillow. The boat was swaying slightly, rocking on the waves, and he imagined he was going to be dropped off on the nearest stretch of shore.

Very well.

It was more of a chance than he deserved, and he would savor it. The cabin was sparsely decorated. Just a bed, a desk, and a chest. Nothing seemed to signify where the man was from, or what the purpose of the little boat was. It didn’t seem to be a fishing boat. For pleasure, then? He could be a lordling who simply enjoys the sea.

Maglor laid on his back, studying the ceiling until the door finally opened and his rescuer stepped inside. Beyond him, Maglor could see miles of open water.

“You’re awake!”

“Tha- thank you,” Maglor choked out. His throat was sore from Ages of abuse and a lack of decent folk to make conversation with, but he managed anyway.

“Of course,” said the man easily. He brought Maglor more tea and helped him to sit up to swallow it.

Maglor pointed to the door, uncertain how to communicate that he needed to leave before he brought any Doom upon his rescuer.

“No, no,” said the man, “Stay here and rest a while, brother. Shore is a ways off yet, I should think.” He tucked the blankets around Maglor with surprising gentleness before slipping back out of the cabin as the medication once again sent Maglor to sleep.

A storm started up that night, tossing their brave little boat in great huge waves that reminded Maglor of the sinking of Beleriand or the fall of Numenor.

His rescuer came inside the cabin to shelter with him, soaked from having struggled to get the sail down so it wouldn’t rip. “I knew it was coming,” he said ominously. “The birds scattered.”

Was that some sort of Mortal saying? Maglor frowned, then groaned and attempted to push himself upright. He had to do something, after all, the man had saved him from a long and very wet death. The least he could do was ask Ulmo to maybe have a bit of pity on this child of Eru.

He wasn’t certain the Vala would listen, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, as long as he was careful how he worded the request and made sure to exaggerate that it wasn’t for his own benefit.

“Easy there,” said the man, pushing him back into bed as he tried to sit. “Stay down.”

Weakly he pointed across the room, where he’d noticed a flute earlier in the day. The power of Elves had once been well known, hopefully those tales had remained and the man would know what he wanted to do. His harp was long gone, but he could make due…

But the man shook his head. “You cannot Sing away this storm, I am afraid.”

“I can,” he whispered, willing the man to understand that he was not just any elf. “I can calm it-“ his voice broke and he struggled to cough “-perhaps a little.”

He was given a sad smile and a squeeze on his shoulder. “Rest, brother.”

The storm was gone by morning, and Maglor was again alone in the dark little cabin. The mortal had gone outside as soon as it had calmed, only returning some time later to say, “We’ve been blown off course, but it won’t be hard to correct.”

“The seas are calm,” Maglor croaked. The boat had ceased it’s incessant rocking.

“Lord Manwë is in a merciful mood this morning, it seems.” A man of Gondor then, if he knew the old tales.

Maglor studied him, then quietly said, “Lord Manwë is seldom in such a mood.”

The man’s laugh almost seemed nervous, although who wouldn’t be frightened by the Light of the Trees that still shone from Maglor’s eyes? Even if he had met elves before, those that remained were not exiles like Maglor, but rather elves of the Greenwood.  

“Rest brother,” he said, then nodded his head and slipped back outside. He heard a key turn in the lock.

Maglor was out of bed in an instant, ignoring the pain in his leg. He didn’t like being locked up, even by foolish and well-meaning mortals. Perhaps I made him nervous when I sought to calm the storm last night. And clearly he was not pleased when I spoke of Lord Manwë. He must not have realized the full danger of what he had saved.

But he wasn’t about to stay locked up for long. He needed to know why it was taking so long to get to shore. He’d thought the man would drop him at the earliest convenience, but instead it seemed he’d decided to either take Maglor to civilization or hang onto him until he healed. Neither one would do.

The door was locked - and damn it, why? - but he was a son of Feanor, he’d learned to pick locks in infancy, and soon he had the door open.

Maglor stepped outside and froze.

They were not in the ocean at all, but rather sailing in a sea of stars. Realization dawned.

“Ah,” said the-rescuer-who-was-clearly-Earendil-son-of-Tuor nervously, stroking the head of a white-bird-that-was-probably-the-woman-Maglor-had-once-tried-to-kill that rested on the ship’s rail. “I wondered when you might try that.”

The Fic has several more chapters on AO3 than it does on here.

[monsoonblooms12]

The Scarlet Minute (Bryce Lahela x f!OC)

Summary: One has taken the last breaths of life, leaving behind a devastated soul with a broken heart and unfinished dreams💔

A/N: I am sorry I was in an Angsty mood today. I hurt myself bad when I was writing this, so advance apologies for the pain😭

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Bryce Lahela X f!OC (Dr. Lydia Archambeau)

Word Count: around 1.1 K

Rating: General

Category: Angst

Triggers: Suicide, Major Character Death

Don't give up on that breath, they say.

This too shall pass, they say.

But when the burden of circumstances falls like a boulder on the little vermin, does it survive?

No, it doesn't.

She thought, hoped, implored, for a ray of hope, for a smile that could carry away the gloom of her distressed heart.

Yet, every morning, she rose to a soaked pillow and a strained heart.

People asked her to let go of the past, to live in the present.

But her antiquity, her present, and her eternity were stricken black with more tears and heartbreak, so she knew.

It's not that she didn't try to smile. She pushed herself to do it.

But the weights of episodes fastened to the edge of her lips didn't let them go up.

Those around her said she was too egocentric to open up to them. They never tried to look at her side of the tale. They did not bother.

But he did. More than he should.

Why did a guy like him try to make an insignificant girl like her, smile?

Why did he hold her hand when she grieved?

Why did he come speeding that day when the floor swayed underneath her, and she collapsed?

Was he too trying to fool her, deceive her?

Her mind urged her not to love someone again. Not after what she saw in her past. Not after the knife of deceit ripped her apart.

But she did fall before she could even realize, for that golden-eyed boy whose vicinity was like the hue of the golden sun at sunrise, who made her heart glow even if for a beat.

Yes, Lydia Archambeau fell for Bryce Lahela.

She loved him.

That kind of love which let her know of his presence before her senses.

That kind of love which was an anchor to her estranged soul in the riotous sea.

And hence she wanted to stop.

Stop and back up to the warmth of his arms, to the softness of his kisses, to the gentleness of his words and to the gold of his heart.

But the black hole of heartbreak, agony engulfed her, and there was no way to come back.

His kisses of one day, the day he held her in her arms, only if he realized that it was her last day.

The day they both tore the strands that pulled them apart and ran into their arms, that day when they finally put words to their emotions, was the only day of happiness their prayers had awarded them.

As she took one step and the other, he dozed soundly in his bed, dreaming of her in his arms, how he would tell her the next day how much he loved her.

If only there was a next day.

With each step, her tears blurred her vision. Her barren foot struck with nails and thorns, but her body couldn't feel the pain.

When the ultimate breath is seized, how does one feel? When the last straw is drawn, how does one feel?

That's how she felt.

One would ask, why did you give him one day of bliss, of empty hope, of an illusion of togetherness?

She knew what she would say.

Before her heart was shredded apart, she did not know what sorrow was. After her heart was ripped apart, she forgot what laughter was.

She lived in a contradiction, in a void of gloominess she had got so used to, that his golden beams of joy, optimism and love, burned her heart, made it painful to look at.

And she let herself burn.

Burn in his sunshine. In his chastity. In his love. And with her burnt her feelings, her emotions, the chains that held her.

She basked in his serenity, and now all that was left were the ashes and her blackness.

A corner of her mind knew she was wrong. It beckoned her to come back to his arms.

But it was too late. Too late.

As the frigid air of Boston's November blew the strands of her locks, as her eyes took in the climactic scene, Her heart beat for the last few times and her body took its last few breaths.

And then she fell.

Like her heart spiralled down the void of pain, her body sank into the ends of her worthless life.

The only word that escaped her dry, thin lips were to him.

Sorry.

The way he ran the next morning to her, like someone had snatched his life from him, and he had to get it back.

What was the use of living on without being able to hide in the shade of her hair, to drown in the fragrance of her presence, to get drunk in the harmony of her laughter?

They held him, stopped him.

How dare they?

Who were they to stop him from holding his life? Who were they to stop him from bringing her back to him? From scolding her not to kill him like that again? From kissing her until her distress had passed away?

He knew his eyes would give up on him. He wouldn't be able to hold the sight of her, drenched in scarlet. He felt that his life would give up on him before he could look at her like that.

He blasphemed himself, shouted, screamed, the tears falling like waterfalls of despair. His heart beat, but he couldn't sense life in him.

He was an inanimate corpse without her love.

Why didn't he stop her that day? Hold her through the twilight and keep her near to him? Hold her hand forever so that she could never go apart from him?

Why?

And as now she lay in the glass case, lifeless, his mind, his heart thought of nothing but her. That last day when they drowned in each other.

Why did he not understand? Why did he not hold her hand and kiss her until she would forget her heartbreak? Until the pain that took away her breath was defeated by the golden of his love?

Why did his life not come to a finish before having to see her like that today?

Why?

And as they place her down in the earth, all he can ask her, all he has to say,

Why did you go away? Was the power of my love not strong enough to hold you? Was the golden of my soul not enough to replace the black of your misery?

And suddenly, his soul was enveloped by the sensation of her presence, the perfume of her soul overwhelming his reasoning as gentle words her spirit spoke,

Your love is a seashell baby, and it will stay, for eternities to come by, crossing all the boundaries of the mortal life.

You and I are bound by a thread so powerful before which death withers.

You and I are meant to be for all times and ages.

We're meant to be.

PS: I am sorry if this makes no sense. My emotions were overwhelming me and I needed a way out. Anyway, thank you for reading and hope you have a great day ahead! Lots of Love💕

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @natureblooms24

[daywing-moved]

Let Me Go | Nessian Fic

Rating: M (tw: suicide mentions, blood/injury gore descriptions)

Summary: After a heated argument and cruel words, Nesta Archeron left the Illyrian Mountains for a mission. Upon her arrival home, Cassian smells blood and the pain of dancing with death. (Nessian angst and hurt fic. Not a death fic.)

Let me know if you want to be tagged for some of my fics or be part of my permanent tag list here!

Fic Masterlist

Cassian could not stop seeing red.

Such unforgiving, dark red.

 He couldn’t stop seeing Nesta’s body half ripped open. Torn apart by whomever she had encountered on her trip to the mortal realm. Had not allowed himself to look closer, to assess her injuries, because he could not stop seeing the blur of red. He knew he would have ripped everything apart against his better judgment, and there was no room for mistakes. Especially now.

His mate, lying there.

So still. So close to the other side. He hadn’t thought it was possible for the incarnation of death to come that close to death itself.

And so he had flown.

He’d flown to the tip of the Illyrian Mountains, surrounded by the frosted mist and cold air. Somewhere where he could finally breathe—big heaves of panicked breaths and shudders—feel anything besides the shallow, uneven beats of Nesta’s own breaths.

He could feel all of her and none of him.

His hands shook.

Cassian could not bring himself to conjure the image of Nesta’s broken body. If he did, perhaps even his Siphons would not be enough to contain that undying rage and panic and fear fear fear-

And yet the picture kept spinning inside his mind.

What if the spies Rhys had sent hadn’t been there to witness it?

Where would Nesta be?

Would anyone have seen his mate getting ripped apart to pieces and pieces and pieces? Until his own heart was ripped to pieces and pieces and fluttered to the floor until it died with his mate six feet below ground?

Would Nesta have-

The word clanged through his mind like a cold wave drowning him under. Would Nesta have died?

Another great heave a breath. In, out. Cassian closed his eyes.

The image reappeared.

So close to death. If it had been a second later...Cassian might have tossed himself off the nearest cliff.

The one he was perching on right now.

What had he said to Nesta before she left? If she had-

If she did not live, what would have been his last words to her?

How are your sisters capable of loving such a monster? How am I capable of it? I can’t fathom. If I were you, I’d toss-

The room had gone silent then.

Nesta—Nesta Archeron, whom he had figured out layer by layer, like the petals of a thorned rose—had built her walls back up that moment.

You should go.

And like the stupid bastard he was, he had just turned around and left.

He’d just left. The unfinished sentence, the unspoken words, haunted him that night, and the next night, chasing him to training and through the skies, until he had felt an excruciating pain burst along every edge and seam of him days later, like he was falling into darkness and doom and eternal coldness-

If I were you, I’d toss myself off the balcony.

Cassian did not think he had known true fear until the moment that horrible pain had shot down the bond, making him double over on the floor. That moment, when he had connected the dots and realized with that knowing, imminent dread settling in his stomach, that something terrible had happened to his mate.

He’d burst out of the room he had been in and found blood drips on the ground.

Had smelled Nesta Archeron.

When some of the other Illyrians had witnessed the red-streaked ground and asked about it, he’d simply snarled, “Get out of my way,” and bursted inside the healers’ wing. He’d stared at Rhys’ concerned, starless gaze—knew and raged an inner scream that that gaze was for the well-being of how Feyre would fare with the news, not for Nesta. He had avoided the lithe figure draped in towels and bandages to his left.

Rhys had murmured quietly, “Cass.”

And Cassian had looked.

Had looked at his mate, insides half jutting out, lips cracked and smeared, red dripping from her nose, eyes closed, lashes fluttering, hair knotted and frenzied, and had stumbled back out of the tent with wild eyes and panicked breaths.

He’d taken to the skies after that, reminding himself how utterly useless he was in the life and death of his mate, his tether, his blood and soul, how completely worthless of a bastard he was for not being the first one to have tended to her and to have saved her. He’d sat here for the entire day, watching the sun rise over the mountains, only to be concealed by the clouds.

The pain of the sharp wind against his cheeks felt like a blessing.

Maybe all that red had leeched the rest of the color away from the world.

He sat here on the cliff, high above the entire world, and stared blankly at the bleak, gray clouds.

What would Nesta tell him to do?

Haul your ass up, his brain immediately replied, and he almost smiled. Almost. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Nesta wasn’t here.

She was in a tent. Half-dead, drowning in her own blood.

He’d been the one to suggest having Nesta take this mission. Her skills were in her political ability, the sharpness and cleverness of her tongue that could swipe all the chess pieces off the board with a single word.

It was his fault that a pair of knives had impaled themselves in her—if those knives had been an inch closer to Nesta’s center, she wouldn’t be breathing.

Was she still breathing?

Cassian started shaking his head to the misty sky as if he could undo all of that day. Rewind to the moment he decided to tell the lords to send Nesta to the mortal realm, because she would not be cowed but would still understand humans, and tell himself to close his mouth. Undo the moment Nesta confronted him, telling him she didn’t need him to get jobs for her, that she was capable of handling herself and what she wanted to do. He’d told her that he had been helping her, that it would raise her ranks amongst the Illyrians. Like she was some piece of filth who had been tagging along on the ride that needed to climb ranks. His apology to her the day she was about to leave had come out as a soliloquy of anger and fumes, burning her castle walls down until she realized that she needed to rebuild them stronger, higher.

He was a damned bastard. He did not deserve that day Nesta had accepted the bond, a few years ago. Maybe he should undo that moment, too.

Silent footsteps neared from behind him, coming from a figure trailed in shadows. Cassian didn’t bother turning to his brother.

“Cassian.”

Why did everyone say his name and his name only, without anything to follow it? As if uttering his name would magically make him forget that his mate was dying and make him continue every day like nothing was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

This feeling of nothingness, the empty well inside him that was an infinitely deep abyss, the tethering strands of the mating bond flung over the side, felt wrong. And yet, so very right. It felt right to internally punch himself in the stomach over and over again.

Azriel rested a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, and Cassian’s lip curled. He did not need Az’s pity.

“I’m not,” the Shadowsinger said tacitly, as if he could read Cassian’s mind. I’m not pitying you. “They finished the procedure on Nesta a few hours ago. You’ve been sitting here the entire night.”

Cassian just stared ahead of him.

“You’re allowed to visit her.”

Cassian stayed still. “How is she?”

There was a pause that seemed to hold the world slightly off-balance, like the cliffs and the skies and the seas were all holding their breath.

Az’s shadows cloaked around him. “The healer said she whispered your name in her sleep. Nobody else is allowed in except for you.”

Maybe his heart had broken in two and he was scrambling to recollect the pieces. Cassian finally looked at Azriel, eyes shuttering but grasping onto that dangerous light of hope. “Do you think she wants to see me?”

The Shadowsinger’s face was unreadable as he replied vaguely,  “You’re her tether to this world.”

Cassian felt it then. The bond falling into the abyss, getting pulled back up, inch by inch, by someone so resilient and brave who had finally started pulling it back-

He rose to his feet and flared his wings. A nod at Az, and together, they took to the skies and back to the camp.

The winds howled in his ears like death became song. The camp appeared into view, sitting under the towering trees and the slate-gray sky.

His heart pounded furiously to the beat on the other side of the bond, fighting to remain a part of this world. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

The white flaps of the tent grazed his arm as he entered, looking away from Nesta’s figure propped up against the headboard. Her gaze barely shifted to him, dancing and flickering away.

Cassian felt like his body had gone numb.

She was covered in bandages. Some staining red and others fresh, and Cassian was seeing red again. Brutal, beaten red. Red, like the essence of life that made the most appearance when life was about to end.

He sank to his knees next to the bed and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nesta.”

She turned his head away from him, and he closed his eyes at the small groan of pain it elicited from her.

Cassian shook his head. “I...I said too much too soon. All I wanted was...by the Cauldron, Nesta, I just-I didn’t mean it-”

“And yet you did,” she rasped. His wings drooped.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I-not that you need to raise your rank here or anything. I just thought that…” He trailed off, not knowing where he was going with this. It had come out of his mouth before it had even registered in his mind. Cassian sighed.

“I thought that you would be best for the mission. I’d been proud of your political abilities--still am--and I thought that being cooped up here in the mountains instead of using those skills in negotiation with the mortal realm was...gods, I don’t know. I just wanted something better for you.”

He watched a tear slide down her cheek and wanted to die then and there. “Nesta, please, look at me. If you’re going to let me go-” his voice broke, “-then at least look at me while you do it. Whatever you decide to do with...with my love. Just. Look at me.”

She turned to face him, and the devastation on her face was another slap to the face. “They were going to kill you,” she snarled. “They threatened to.”

Cassian’s blood ran cold. “What?”

“They were going to imprison me, and I fought. I fought because they were going to use me as bait-”

A growl ripped out of him. He would tear them apart.

“-for you. And I knew you would take the bait.”

Cassian swore his heart stopped. “Gods,” he breathed.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said. That doesn’t mean that you get to decide what missions I go on for me without my permission or talk to me that way. But they were going to kill you, and I couldn’t allow that when the last words we’d set to each other were-”

She closed her mouth abruptly, but Cassian just nodded. “I’m so sorry, Nesta. So, so sorry. I know that doesn’t fix a single damned thing, but I’d take it all back if I could.”

He wiped a tear away from her cheek. That drew another sob from her, great heaves of panicked breaths not because she was going to die, but because he might have exchanged his life for her. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck. Cassian held her tight, his chest tightening immeasurably. “I’ll be here. Always. I’ll be waiting wherever you go, but...Cauldron, Nes. I would really have come for you. But I would have torn them all apart.”

Nesta sniffled a little smile at that. He pressed a gentle kiss to her ruffled hair and spread his wings around them. There would be more time to talk, more time to piece together the puzzle pieces later. “Rest, love. I’ll be here.”

And so Nesta wiped the tears away, each one stripping her walls away until the entire complex of her palace was open to her mate, brimming and glistening with all those broken chandeliers that looked like starlight on the floor. When Cassian’s scent, more comforting than the crook of a pillow or the rustling of wind, slowly lured her to sleep, he stayed with her, was there for her. Always.

---------

tag list: @justgiu12 @maastrash @b00kworm @illyriangarbage @savemesoon8 @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @yourtypicalbookworn @iammissstark @sayosdreams @sarcasticsashimi @sensitiveillyrian @sjm-things​ @courtofjurdan​ @acourtofmarauders​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @ryhsrocks​ @thesirenwashere​ @rose-havilliard-calore​ 

[themangledsans0508]

Entering the Dungeon because Bonnie said so

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline came to Bonnie's aide when she called for Finn and Jake. She didn't expect to be going down a hundred floors while dealing with a shady princess.

Basically, I played Enter the Dungeon over the past two weeks and I have been writing this since the second night of playtime. Trying to write things before I forget them and it is following the canon of the game with some creative liabilities taken.

Words: 3616, Oneshot

Warnings: General Depictions of Violence

Characters: Bonnibel Bubblegum, Marceline Abadeer, Flame Princess

Ships: bubbline

Additional Tags: quests, dungeons, childhood trauma, swearing, adventure, conflict, kind of resolved kind of not, I feel like marcy and phoebe would have a neat dynamic, I've never seen them interact so, some of these scenes were legit my reaction, see: screaming

"Well, it looks like Ice King will be hanging around the Candy Kingdom now," Bonnie sighed. Marceline glanced at the dark entrance to the dungeon and shrugged.

"It's better than down there. At least up here, he can't get hurt," she decided. Bonnie looked at the hole as well and then back to Marceline.

"Marcy, I think you should let the boys handle this one," she stated seriously. Marceline shifted the umbrella in her grip and unfolded her legs to touch the ground.

"Why? I'll be fine."

"Well, asides from the fact that you have been returning up here frequently covered in wounds and the fact that Death is seemingly hunting you down, those aren't just any ancient ruins down there."

"How bad can it be?"

"Mushroom war. If my associations are correct from the information you've given me, then the same city you used to live in” Marceline stiffened. "Finn and Jake can deal with this, you just take a breather, okay?"

"No," Marceline shook her head. "I can take care of it. Just some old relics, nothing a woman like me can't face." Bonnie eyed her warily.

"If you're sure," she said slowly. "Please be careful."

"Send me down, Bonnibel."

~

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!" Marceline shrieked.

"Marcy are you okay?" Bonnie's crackly voice asked, her projection appearing from the holo-pendant. Marceline leaned against the stone wall, her breathing heavy staring at her punctured legs that were bleeding.

"Just fine," she said sarcastically. "Almost got staked by some rusty metal pipes. Bonnie, this is post-war technology. What did you do?"

"I have important research down there, I had to defend it at least a little bit."

"The thousands of lost souls weren't enough?"

“It’s to protect it from them,” Bonnie snapped. “If these criminals got their hands on it, the Candy Kingdom would be in danger.”

“Oh, yeah, if the political prisoners found evidence you were a corrupt leader then you’d be overthrown.”

“It’s a real threat!” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I wished my healing worked down here.”

“Bodily magic doesn’t work because some of those creatures down there have natural magical prowess.”

“Too bad that there are tons of magic weapons down here.” The spikes retreated and Marceline pushed herself up, floating slowly around with her axe prone and ready. “What about the plants?”

“They’ve mutated to become immune to the limitation,” Bonnie explained.

“Speaking of plants, there’s one now.”

~

Marceline felt the wind leave her body as she was knocked against the wall, the deer’s antlers puncturing her legs and it licked her.

“Gross! Back off!” She kicked the deer’s underbelly and pushed it off her, slamming her axe down on the deer’s neck. She shakily stood up and was grabbed, a muzzle rubbing against her neck. She hissed as she felt new instincts override her other ones. She pushed herself up and slid under the wolf, standing up to hit it with the neck of her bass causing it to recoil. She slashed across its chest and took a deep breath, stumbling towards the stairwell.

She watched as a green portal opened and Death stepped out, a brown satchel on his waist and he tipped his cap towards her.

“I see you,” he said and Marceline braced herself, taking in the area and how much space she had. She dashed to the left and hugged the wall, growling when she felt skeletal fingers wrap around her forearm. She was jerked backwards and she felt Death’s skull touch her cheek. She could practically feel the energy drained from her as she struggled before she finally got her arm out of his grasp.

She dived for the stairs and fell down them, at the bottom turning back to look. Death stood at the top and made finger guns towards her.

“Kiss of Death, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Marceline hissed.

~

“Bonnibel, how did you get lava down there,” Marceline asked as she watched the wounds heal. Bonnie handed her a vial of a purple liquid that she drank, whatever cursed her fading away.

“Various tunnels and educated usage of pressure and-”

“It was more rhetorical. But I did get burned. And stabbed. And shot. And kissed without my consent.”

“What? Who kissed you?” Bonnie exclaimed.

“Death. He was blocking the stairs so I tried to duke him but he caught me. I did manage to get down the stairs though.” Marceline tapped her cheek in the spot that Bonnie assumed she was kissed. “Good thing I’m already dead.”

“Death shouldn’t be hanging around in the dungeon,” Bonnie muttered. “It’s interfering with the mortal realm and not allowing the natural flow to keep order.”

“Well, you’re throwing people in a dungeon and barring magic. That messes with the natural flow,” Marceline pointed out.

“Shut up,” Bonnie snapped. “Have you found any signs of the hoomans?”

“None. I’m going to head back down though, I’ll find them.” Bonnie grabbed her wrist and locked eyes with her.

“Marceline, you’re getting close to a bad place. A place that you were nine-hundred ninety-nine years ago. I really think you should stay up here this time."

"Bonnibel, it will be fine. Send me down."

~

Marceline stared at the ruined food truck, a flood of emotions overwhelming her. She listened to the sea of growling and heard a soft humming mixed in. She picked up a rock and threw it at the truck, the old voice box still working. The red siren turned on, illuminating the maze in red light. Her breathing became unsteady and rapid when the oozers began to glow, and she spotted a hooman among them. The hooman saw her as well and started happily skipping towards her.

She took out her axe and started swinging at the oozers, their green insides spilling out onto the ground. When the hooman was close enough, she grabbed her wrist and bolted, bringing her to the fence and kicking open the gate. She looked over at Susan’s grateful face and to the entrance of the maze and sighed.

“I’m booked for this, aren’t I?”

~

“Marceline! Marceline are you okay?” Bonnie grabbed her arm and started looking over her body, circling her and checking over the exposed skin and where the clothes were ripped.

“Bonnie, I’m fine. I can’t believe they’re still down there.” Bonnie stopped and stepped back.

“I couldn’t get rid of them. If that green goop even touches you that’s it. I just thought if I buried them then that would be the end of it. How the hoomans even got down there I don’t know.”

“Probably something to do with that buff cat chick,” Marceline jabbed her thumb towards Susan.

“Maybe. I’ll ask her later. But Marcy, that one got really dicey. Everyone made it out safely, but you almost didn’t. That swarm could have easily overwhelmed you. Can you please let Finn and Jake take care of this? I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want them to get hurt,” Marceline mumbled. “I’m the best choice for this. I can teleport back to the surface, I know how to fight, I’ve been in all these places before. Plus I can literally eat the red bullets.”

“If you insist,” Bonnie sighed. She pulled her necklace and started fiddling with it. “What floor?”

~

“Marce, that one was close. This is the seventh time,” Bonnie scolded. Marceline shrugged and leaned on her.

“I’m exhausted,” she complained. “Magic Man hit me with some bullshit.”

“A strength-sapping spell,” Bonnie murmured. She pulled a herb out of her bag and placed it on top of Marceline’s head. “Stand still,” she instructed and counted under her breath before removing it. “You need to rest for at least three hours.”

“No,” she slurred, backing up and swaying on her feet. “I can keep going. I just…” She started falling forward and Bonnie caught her, sighing.

“Will you just go take a nap or something?” she asked. Marceline groaned.

“Don’t let anyone else go in there. I can deal with this myself,” she ordered and Bonnie pushed her back, keeping one hand on Marceline’s shoulder and crossing over her chest.

“Cross my heart,” Bonnie smiled. Marceline raised her umbrella in the air.

“I am going to the corner,” she announced and wandered off towards Choose Goose.

~

“Marceline, things are looking really dangerous. You keep having to retreat back up here,” Bonnie said softly. Marceline shrugged.

“Whatever, I’m still making it out,” she stated. Bonnie crossed her arms.

“You almost aren’t,” Bonnie scolded. “Do you want some help?”

“Bonnibel Bubblegum fighting in a dungeon? I don’t know.” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“No, a token per se. Something that’ll protect you.” Marceline shook her head aggressively.

“No. I don’t need any help. None! Send me down!”

“If you say so,” Bonnie sighed.

~

“Will you accept my offer now?” Bonnie asked, placing her hands on her hips. Marceline put a hand on her forehead and clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Yes. What do you have.”

“Pep-but! Grab the sweater!” Bonnie called. Peppermint Butler came running with a knitted pink sweater folded in his arms. “Thanks, Peps. Marcy, arms up.” She took the sweater from his arms and held it. Marceline used her free hand to motion towards herself.

“Umbrella.”

“You have telekinesis.”

“Oh, yeah.” She let the umbrella float above her slightly higher and she raised her arms. Bonnie slid it carefully over her head and adjusted her collar. Marceline scratched at it.

“This is tight, Bons,” Marceline complained. Bonnie smiled shyly.

“It’s made of the strongest magic out there,” she said quietly. Marceline quirked an eyebrow.

“O-kay. I thought you thought magic was a sham.” She tugged at the hem of it and frowned, her eyes narrowing at Bonnie. “Why can’t I take it off?”

“Well, you see, I had a feeling you might try to take it off, and for your own safety, I may have had it engineered so that you couldn’t take it off until you were in a sound state. Since you’re going back in, it recognizes that you are going to be in harm’s way.”

“I should have known there’d be a catch,” Marceline grumbled.

“It’s in your best interest,” Bonnie stated.

“That doesn’t make it right. Look, I’m just going back down. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

~

Marceline carefully pulled the pink sweater over her head and slid it over the umbrella handle.

“I’m not putting that back on,” she growled and sighed. “Everything is covered in your gum down there, you’ve been having fun without me? And since when did you have a giant pink cat thing and a huge gryphon eagle thing?”

“Goliad and Stormo? I’m glad they’re still balancing each other out.”

“I’m not getting an explanation? I should’ve expected that.”

“Also, I’m sorry but your corner is occupied now. I thought you could all use a break from the dungeon and while you may not enjoy the opportunity, the Nightosphere offered a challenge for anyone who felt so inclined. Maybe while everyone does that you can rest?”

“Why are you pushing me to slow down? I’m in my groove right now. You’re not my mom,” Marceline snapped.

“I’m not trying to be your mom! I care about you and I’m worried you’re pushing yourself too hard!”

“Well geez, it’s nice of you to care after all this time! I know my limits! I’ll show you! I’m going to the Nightosphere!”

“Marceline!”

“Don’t come after me,” she snapped and stalked off. Bonnie hugged herself and grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

~

“Are you going to calm down now?” Bonnie asked. Marceline kicked the dirt angrily.

“No. But I think I give up for now. That whole jam is ridiculous. There’s so much going on at once. I think the normal chaos is what I prefer right now. You know, I think it’d be cool if you came down too.” Bonnie shifted uncomfortably.

“Someone needs to stand guard here.” Marceline motioned towards the banana guards to either side.

“Found two,” she pointed out.

“It has to be me,” Bonnie insisted. She leaned over and whispered so only Marceline could hear. “You know how incompetent these guys can be.”

“Whatever you say P-Bubs.”

~

“So, how’d Flame Princess get locked down there, in the lab that belongs to you trapped in a machine you made.” Bonnie shrugged.

“No idea.”

“You can’t keep trying to ruin Finn’s relationship, girl. It’s an unhealthy obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a coincidence! It’s a coincidence that she got trapped in my machinery

“You aren’t confirming it or denying it.”

"I don't need to. I'm not that cruel a woman that I would trap a child for a science experiment."

"Actually-"

"Don't." Bonnie held a finger out to stop Marceline from continuing. "There's no reason for me to lock Flame Princess up, especially when she herself is the biggest threat to the Candy Kingdom. It isn't wise to poke the bear with a stick, you know what I mean?"

“Yeah, I guess. She really wants to join the travel party now, so she might still be gunning to destroy the kingdom.” Bonnie placed a nervous hand on her cheek and glanced warily towards Flame Princess, who appeared to be trying to explain something to Finn.

“Could you keep an eye on her?” Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Marceline snapped and sighed, “but yeah, I guess. I’d rather all of Ooo not be lit on fire. I’ll take her with me.” Bonnie smiled gratefully. “Anything I need?”

“I recommend a fire-resistance charm, in case you get caught in the crossfire.” Marceline nodded and dropped some gold in her hand. “I’ll use the charm, and that armour Finn hates too. Also, let Flame Princess use whatever token she wants, I don’t care.”

“Flame Princess! Marceline wants you to come with her!” Bubblegum shouted and the teen came running, small fires dotting her every step.

~

“That was exhilarating! So many things happening at once, so many creatures and questions! I knew that Bubblegum was no good!” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Hey, cut her some slack. She’s been at this for a long time,” Marceline growled. Flame Princess looked at her in confusion.

“You can’t honestly look at all this and tell me she’s not evil or at least bad. Look at all this stuff! Living beings forced to stay down here to the rest of their lives. Why? Is what they did really bad enough to deserve this?”

“Yes!” Marceline snapped. “And you don’t know Bonnie like I do.”

“Well, how do you know her so well?”

“I know her so well because-”

“You have done well to come this far,” A voice echoed, startling both girls. Marceline and Phoebe both looked to the speaker.

“Bonnie? What are you doing all the way down here?” Marceline asked.

“Something evil I bet,” Phoebe spat and Marceline whacked the back of her head, ignoring the burning sensation. Bonnibel frowned.

“This is my dungeon,” she said plainly. “And this room is the bottom of it. So, great job! You can go home now, back to the surface or whatever.”

“I don’t think so. There’s probably something in here that you’re hiding,” Phoebe hissed. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“This doesn’t make sense. What’s down here, Peebs?” Bonnie chuckled nervously.

“Nothing! This is the bottom. That’s it. But just to be safe,” she glared discreetly at Phoebe “I need you to promise me you will not touch my desk back there. It has important research on it that you could mess up. This could be your final quest in this adventure, just promise me. Royal promise. No touchies.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Marceline insisted. Bonnie shook her head.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine! Whatever!” Marceline threw up her arms in defeat. Bonnie smiled. It wasn’t one of her normal smiles, not one of the ones Marceline was used to. It was empty and cold. Her eyes were unreadable.

“I think we’re done here then. Thank you for solving the mystery.” Marceline looked her up and down and walked past her, looking down at the table. Phoebe walked up beside her and glanced at Marceline.

“These papers are unreadable,” she whispered. Marceline absentmindedly picked up one of the papers, seeing the words were faded and the pictures were half-erased. Then the wall in front of them opened, showing a dark pink gum tunnel.

“Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you! Where does this even go?” Marceline shouted. She spun around to face Bonnibel and scowled at the expression on her face. An expression she hadn’t seen in centuries, since they had broken up. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a slight frown. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her and she straightened her back to look at them like she was above them.

You’ll never know where it goes,” she said slowly, “you broke a royal promise. And you know what that means. I’m sorry girls, it’s business.” Marceline saw out of the corner of her eye a fireball that Phoebe had thrown before they both teleported above the kingdom, standing on a cotton candy cloud and looking up at the Gumball Guardians.

“I told you,” Phoebe shouted. Marceline growled and readied her axe.

~

“Well, at least I’ll get a metal song out of this,” Marceline mumbled. Phoebe scoffed.

“You’re thinking about music? I’m thinking about revolution!” Her hands lit up and she prepared to attack before Bonnibel ran out in front of them.

“Wait! You don’t understand! I know this thing looks like a monster, but you have to listen to me! It doesn’t want to hurt you! It just-” A gum tentacle swung out and grabbed her, causing both Marceline and Phoebe to jump back.

“Bonnie! You’re not getting out of this that easily!” She lunged forward only to get hit in the face with a metal ball, knocking her back. Phoebe dragged her to her feet.

“Think smart!” She barked.

~

Marceline was angry at Bubblegum, but seeing everyone else rail on her for something she herself had done as well, made her get a bit protective. She’d deal with the lying later.

“Wouldn’t you lie to protect your weird old parents too?” Marceline snapped. She floated down and wrapped her arms around Bonnie’s shoulders, glaring at the entire crew. She glanced at Bonnie for a split second and saw her small smile and she flashed one back. She was still holding her when the mass of gum began to separate.

~

“Thanks for helping me out, I do wish you could’ve done it without killing my parents though,” Bonnie said. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“They aren’t dead. We can go catch them if you want.”

“No, no. They’ll come back if they want,” Bonnie sighed. “Marceline, come inside. I want to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, sure.” Marceline followed her up the candy steps and through the winding halls, ending in Bonnie’s room. She motioned towards the bed.

“Sit down,” she ordered and Marceline obliged, sitting down with her arms crossed. “I want to apologise to you.”

“For what? For sending me on a wild goose chase? For trying to get your gumball guardians to murder me? For lying to me and tricking me? For literally putting all of us in mortal danger? Which one is it?” Marceline snarled. Bonnie winced.

“All of that, listen, Marceline, I didn’t want to do all that! But responsibility demands sacrifice and the cost kept escalating. I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand before it was already there. I was running out of ways to stop you.”

“Maybe the best way to have stopped me would have been to tell the truth? Did you ever consider that?” Marceline snapped. “Everyone could have died, get that through your thick skull! All of us could have died!” She stood up and sat back down, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking deep breaths. “I don’t even know how long it’s been, all I know is you haven’t changed a bit. You put your own pride over the actual lives of other people.”

“Marceline-”

“No, Bonnie, listen. It’s been like this for centuries. It’s exhausting. I had thought you were different now. I really did. But I guess old habits die hard.”

“I’m trying to change. I really am Marcy. I just- I was scared. You know what it’s like to have to face the potential of losing your parents. You know what it’s like to lose them. I don’t. I just had to come head-to-head with it today. It’s not okay that I did all that, but I panicked,” Bonnie rambled. Marceline stood up and shook her head.

“I’m going home. I have a killer headache and I’m tired. I got up to come help and I did, so my job’s done.” She rubbed her temple and walked to the door, reaching for the handle only for her hand to be grabbed.

“I’m sorry. I want you to know that. I really am sorry.” She hesitated. She looked to Bonnie and inhaled sharply. She did look remorseful, but sometimes remorse was not enough.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” she mumbled. Bonnie looked away.

“I understand.” She quickly hugged Marceline and backed away, walking to filter through her closet. “It’s okay if you never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’ve forgiven you for worse,” Marceline stated. “But this one will take me a bit. I’ll text you eventually.” She strolled out and narrowly avoided Peppermint Butler who was coming into the room, getting called some harsh words as she opened her umbrella to make her way home.

[shaydeoffical]

I Could Get Behind That: Saeko Tanaka x Fem Reader

Soulmate Au

: In a world where the name of your worst Enemy and Romantic soulmates appear on your wrist. You can't tell which is which for sure until all people cross paths. Then you can touch the soul mark on who you think is your romantic partner, and it will change to initials. 

Summary: (Y/n) has been hiding a secret from her best friend and childhood enemy, Sakeo Tanaka. While thinking about the past, she gathers up the courage to tell her the truth.

Author's Note: I will be starting some Haikyuu Oneshots and working on how I want to write each character. I will be posting My Hero stuff as well. I am just almost done with Bright as a Diamond and want to get my next series going. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Thunderstorms, keepings a secret, Enemies to Friends to Lovers.

I Could Get Behind That

        "It's about to thunderstorm." I tapped the passenger side window chewing on my bottom lip. Saeko was buckling in, and fixing her gear before pulling onto the road.

"Huh, it's just a little rain, no need to worry. Besides, the reports said yesterday was the worst of it." Saeko shook my shoulder to loosen my body up.

   "You're not the one afraid of storms, Saeko." A smile tugged my lips up. There was more on my mind than the impending rain. This moment wasn't the right time to discuss it, though.

   "Well you don't have to worry when I'm around, I'll always protect you. In less, you still think I'm your mortal enemy." She feigned a serious tone, holding up her soul mark.  My name was scrolled in my handwriting, the bare spot on her other hand showed she had yet to meet her other' soulmate.'

   When we first met as kids, both of us were at each other's throats. We'd fight over who got to play with the blocks, who got better grades, and who got to sit on the outside seat of the bus on field trips. Everyone said we were enemies, and that it was better to meet them as a kid because if childish betrayals were the worst thing to happen, the rest of your life would be cake.

   Like so many child enemies, we grew close. We started to argue over who would walk the other home, who'd host the sleepover, who'd get to pay for snacks. Now that we were adults, it was easier to communicate our needs and divide up our favorite tasks. Saeko always picked me up from work, we'd go to her Taiko group then she'd drive me home. In hindsight, it seems I just gave in and let Saeko treat me most of the time…  

   While having her drive me around wasn't great for my life expectancy, she did make sure to at least try following the traffic rules when I was in the car. The first time she almost veered off the side of the road, I wouldn't get in a car with her behind the wheel for two months.  

        "Break check." Saeko shoved her hand out, stopping me from bouncing forward. The car slid to a halt. Gripping the handlebar and Saeko's thigh for deer life, we stopped short of the mass in the road.

   "Oh, it's a little duck." I swallowed my anger and let it fade into relief, seeing why she had to stop so fast. "Aww, it's little waddle is the cutest. Why'd you yell brake check?"

   "Aww, the duck is cute. But you're the cutest." Saeko nudged my shoulder, slowly driving by the duck so I could look a little longer. Of course, she was avoiding my question. Part of me knew it was a reflex for when she drove alone and would test the skills of driver's riding her ass.

   "No, you." I shot back, forgetting about the pit in my stomach. "I say she was just heading towards the trees to shelter for the storm."

        "Animals are smart like that." Saeko fiddled with the radio, not taking her eyes off the radio.

        "Too bad she didn't have a friend to shelter with." A pang of guilt washed over me, the weight of the bracelet on my hand heavier.  

   "Hey, your house is just ahead. Tell me if I'm wrong, but you want me to come in for a few drinks and a thunderstorm sleepover." Pulling into my driveway, I grabbed my purse nodding at her. "Come on and say it."

   "Don't make me beg, Saeko", I warned her, but I still hoovered with the door open so she couldn't drive off. The past two days she's stayed over due to the weather. And each time, I avoided telling her the truth, despite my promising myself I would.

   "I'll do it regardless, you just look so adorable when you beg. I could never leave my little duckling all on her own." The engine shut off, and she jumped out, tossing her coat into the back seat. "Since when have I left you in your time of need?" She slung her arm around my shoulders.

   "How about when I ripped my pants at the bar on main, so you went to get me a new pair, but you forgot which bar I was at." Entering my rental home, we kicked off our shoes and went straight to the bedroom. We'd formed a routine for nights like these.      

   "How many times can I apologies for that. You were the one that wouldn't stop taking shots." Saeko changed into a tank top and some cotton shorts. I pulled on my pajamas and started to work on fixing my hair. Dancing around each other, we gathered our things and tag-teamed with gathering the laundry.  

   "You were the one that challenged me to a competition. Which I only lost because your brother kept making those silly faces." It was nearly dark outside, her club meeting lasted longer today than normal, as they had a festival coming up soon. We wouldn't have long before it was time for bed.

   "So, being a lightweight had nothing to do with it?" Saeko tapped my forehead before pushing the tag of my shirt back inside my collar. "Hm," she grabbed my wrist, going to move the bangle over my soul mark. "Since when did you start covering your mark?"

   "Stop changing the subject, you know I would have won." I got back on topic, breaking free from her hold. The warmth of her hands still lingering. "Let's just make some dinner, and get ready for bed before the storm starts."

   The pit had returned to my tummy after dinner was over. We both showered and were sitting on my bed, watching a show about building motorcycles. It wasn't my favorite kind of program, but we had spent the night before watching anime, so I could be more flexible today. Besides, listening to her complain about the mechanic's technique was so cute. Her being this close was something I wanted more of in my life.

        We had retreated to the bedroom when the show was over. We brushed our teeth and got a glass of water for the night. Saeko had the extra step of showering before bed. She always worked up a sweat at her meetings.

        Waiting in bed for her to be done, I stretched out on top of the sheets, knowing if I got in a position to sleep, I'd pass out and hog the entire bed. Plus, it was more comfortable to sleep when she was beside me. Saeko wasn't particularly tall or strong from her appearance, but she packed a punch. When we were in high school, she made sure no one got away with so much as looking at me cross.  She was my rock.

   There was a crack in the sky. My heart jumping to my throat, I sat up looking towards the bathroom door.   Saeko skidded out of the bathroom than grabbed the duvet from the foot of the bed.  Wrapping it around herself, then jumping beside me. Cuddling up, she cocooned us in the blanket, tucking it under my back. "There we go, it's okay." She promised me, smushing my face into her chest. The hot air under the cover was more suffocating that my heavenly position. She was always so soft...

   "Thanks." I trembled against her coming to my sense; the shivers were slowly easing up. When the next round of thunder came, I was already in my safe spot and didn't have a heart attack.

   "Anything for you." She hummed, tracing shapes on my back. Her breath was lingering on my neck. "Let's think about other things, okay? This storm is supposed to pass by super fast."

   "Sounds good to me." I nodded, closing my eyes.

   "Do you remember the first time we did this?" Saeko rocked us gently, back and forth. The creek of the bedsprings overtaking the distant thunder.

   "It was on our school trip to Tokyo. We were still at the arguing stage, and we got so caught up in our fight over who could sprit the longest." A water droplet from her hair plopped onto my face.

   "Than the skies opened, and I looked behind me to see you were on the ground. I'd never seen you look so venerable." Her hand clenched my shoulder, kissing my shoulder.

   "I never thought I'd see the day, but you took me in your arms and got us under the trees for coverage. I thought for sure you'd carry me like a sack of potatoes, but you were strong even back that." I hummed, remembering how I felt. "I was so mad at myself for being in that position to start with. But I think that's the first time I saw you as more than my fated enemy."

   "Can I be honest?" Saeko scooted back to better see my face.

   "Always." I swallowed the lump in my throat.

   "I liked you the moment we meet. Of course, I've always been a little rebellious and headstrong, but I never really thought about you like that. Like an enemy." The rain and thunder stopped. "Being aggressive was just how I showed my love towards Ryu, so I just thought that' how it was supposed to be. When I saw you break down, that was when I realized I had been approaching you the wrong way."

   "That didn't change our arguments", I noted, scooting closer to her. "But you added in more soft moments, like this."

   "(Y/N)?" Saeko swallowed hard. "What happened at work Thursday, and why are you still shaking. The storms over baby doll."

   Blood running cold, I chewed on my bottom lip. "Please, don't be mad at me." Tears sprung from my eyes, I clenched fists full of her shirt.

   "Never." She kissed my forehead.

   "Remember the new boy I told you about the one that I trained last summer?" I asked, spitting up broken words. It was embarrassing, the whole situation was a slap in the face.

   "I'll take care of him, just tell me what happened." She rubbed my back, trying to soothe me.

   "He threw me under the bus, I was let go." Chewing my bottom lip, I squeezed my eyes tight.  

   "That bastard! I can't believe this, after all the work you did to teach him from the ground up. He doesn't even have a degree." I could hear her heart rate quickening, her holding me to her chest again.

   "While you dropped me off at the office this week, I've been job hunting across town."  pushing away again, I wiped my eyes.

   "I could have helped you looked. The shop's been busy, but I still have time for you." She pushed off the cocoon of a blanket and sat up. "I'm so sorry, why couldn't you tell me sooner? Why have you been so secretive? I've been waiting for you to tell me, but (Y/N), Im worried."

   "Remember when you said that you and I were romantic soulmates in high school? And I denied it because same-sex partners are so rare." I looked at my fingernails, trying to say it the right way.  

   "I remember." She swallowed, scooting back. Pushing aside the blanket, I took both of her hands in mine.

   "Saeko, his name appeared on my wrist", I whispered, paling. "You were right. I'm sorry for wasting so much time. The more I've thought about it, the more I realized…how, much I love you. How you were my romantic partner the entire time." I hung my head low, looking at the floor.

   "I have a confession too." She licked the tip of her thumb, rubbing the spot beside my name on her wrist. Holding her hand in the light, showing me her soul mark, I could see a boy's name.

   "That's the boy who-" My mouth fell open.

   "got you/me expelled in high school." We said together.

   "You've known since then?" I tried to wrap my head around it.

   "I didn't want to force you into picking me. After you brought up the same-sex thing, I was afraid that you were right. But now that you know who yours is, let's do it. We can know for sure.." Saeko tugged me forward, holding out her wrist. "This is also why I waited."

   "I love you so much." I kissed her palm, knowing everything would be okay. We touched our marks together, matching our breaths. I could feel the slight twinge as the symbols shifted around. Feeling brave, I leaned forward and was eagerly met with her lips.

   "I love you more." Saeko pulled our hands apart. "My last name it is." She smirked, seeing that my wrist had changed to her initials and her mine—both of our initials ending with 'T' now.

   "I can get behind being a Tanaka." I nodded, realizing that I had been given the gift of growing up alongside my soulmate. "I'm so lucky."

   "How about you try getting underneath a Tanaka first? I'll show you how lucky you are." She laughed, peppering my neck with kisses.

   "Don't be a perv." I pawed at her arms, the storm long gone from my mind.

   "Okay, okay, but just for tonight. I've been waiting for a million years. And I'd wait for a million more to see you smile like this." She tapped her finger against my nose and turned out the light. "Alright, let's get some rest. Tomorrow we can talk about possibly moving and finding you a job. Once you have steady work, I'll take a day off and make sure your soul enemy is taught a lesson."    

   "Saeko", I warned her, leaning on my elbows before she tugged me down to be the little spoon.

   "Fine, but I want to at least screw with his car when no ones watching." She sulked, rolling my hair around her fingers.

   "That's a decent compromise. Now let's get some sleep." I pushed myself deep into her hold and closed my eyes. The weight of my secret was gone, and now I was able to reap the rewards of my friendship turned into love.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

The Pit or Talking and Punching

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Damien makes Kirby pursue Roddy through making promos on him.

Kirby's POV:

The week went by quite quickly, when I woke up on Saturday I heard Rod going over things that he would say in a promo.

"Morning, Rod."

"Oh, well Good morning, beautiful."

"What are ya doing?"

"Going over my introduction to Piper's Pit, I'm filming it later so I thought I'd go over it now."

"Wait, you have your own interview segment?"

"Yeah. Honey, do you mind if I embellish facts a little?"

"It depends on what you say, but I see no harm in it."

"Thanks baby. C'mere sweetheart."

He walked over to me, straddling my lap and leaning down into a passionate kiss, pulling away when air became a necessity.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Rod."

"I want you to come watch the interview later."

"I'll come with you if you want."

"Let's go get coffee, or breakfast," Rod got back up and helped me to my feet, "Holy shit."

"What?"

"Even when you've just woken up, ya so fucking beautiful."

"Thank you, you sexy little Scottish warrior."

"You Welsh rose, c'mere."

He pulled me down into a kiss, biting my lower lip and backing me against the wall, before we both realised what we were doing and sorting ourselves out.

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."

"Don't worry, Kirbs, I got a bit hot there too."

I did my morning routine and followed Roddy to the D200, we stopped and grabbed some coffee before continuing to the taping. I saw Damien and he managed to talk me into cutting a promo on Piper.

"Rodz wasn't enough to stop me. Next Monday I will prove, in Edison, New Jersey that S.D Jones isn't enough to stop me. After that I'll be making my way towards the one person who needs to put their money where their mouth is. PIPER!" I took an exaggerated breath in, "Piper, you said that if I want a challenge than you'll be happy to oblige and I know that you have the guts to back it up, but do you have the STRATEGY or LOGIC to prove yourself better than ME! I DON'T CARE IF YOU SEND SCHULTZ OR ORNDORFF IN BEFORE YOU!" I took another breath in before whispering into the mic, "Just know that I'll be waiting Piper, waiting and watching from the shadows. If I have to destroy every other man or giant in the WWF before I get to you, I will Piper. Trust in me, that I will consume your soul and make you just another carcass lying broken and defeated on the mat, your blood will be mine."

I went up to Damien after doing the promo and he asked if I wanted to do another prom after my match and I agreed. Sunday went by as did most of Monday, including my match against S.D Jones, which I won after hitting him with the Cheshire Grin. I headed backstage before I was put in front of cameras and handed a microphone by Gene who quickly stepped away.

"I told you, Piper. I told you. Rodz, no challenge. S.D Jones, no challenge. Put your money where your big, loud mouth is boyo. PROVE TO THE WORLD THAT YOU ARE A MAN AND NOT A BOY, PIPER!" I took a deep breath in and got closer to the camera and mic to whisper the next line, "Prove to me that you are no coward," I backed off slightly, "Prove IT! NEXT FRIDAY, BINGHAMTON, NEW YORK! I FACE GEORGE 'THE ANIMAL' STEELE!" I went back to whispering, "Steele, you may be an animal, but you are no match for a hellhound. I will rend you limb from limb. I will have your blood and I will eat you alive."

Another week went by and on the Friday I won against Steele and had to do another promo on who my next 'victim' will be to intimidate Piper into hopefully making a promo to combat my efforts, seeing as the last two threats went unanswered.

"Another week, another victim, Piper, and still no answer. I DON'T DO THIS OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF MY HEART! I thought I had made that clear enough, boyo. I know what you're gonna do now, you're gonna go talk to your friends, Orndorff and Schultz and you're gonna get somebody to protect you, maybe Big John Studd, perhaps? Hmm? A giant to protect you against a giantess, seems almost poetic to me. PIPER! I CALL YOU OUT AS YOU HAVEN'T REPLIED TO MY THREATS YET! But I know you've heard them. I know because I hear you talking to Schultz and Orndorff. This Tuesday, Allentown, Pennsylvania. Me vs Steve Lombardi. Good luck Mr Lombardi, try not to bleed to death."

Yet again another weekend came and went with Piper doing two different Pit tapings. I won against Lombardi and did another promo on Piper. I was given a rose with the thorns cut off to make sure I didn't prick myself during the promo.

"Valentine's Day. The perfect day to eat the heart of your mortal enemy. PIPER! Oh Piper, do you know what I'd like to do to you. I'd like to meet you, face to face and then RIP YOUR HEART OUT OF YOUR CHEST AND WATCH AS IT BEATS IN MY HANDS! I jest, I kid, I know that a man of your heritage must have a hard time getting American women to fall at your feet and beg to see what's under the kilt. Tomorrow, I will be hunting you down and only you until you answer my call to action. Anyone who gets in my way is just another feast of the flesh to wet my appetite for your blood. Talk is so cheap when it comes out of the mouth of a man like you."

I went back to the hotel that night alone, Piper was out with Schultz and Orndorff. Opening the door I saw the bouquet of orange flowers and the box of chocolates next to the pink Valentine's day card covered in black hearts. 'Forever & Always I will love you. Roddy.' He's such a charmer.

"Do ya like it."

I gasped, clutching the card to my chest and spinning around to face him.

"I thought you were with the boys."

"Like I'd miss the chance to spend Valentine's day with my baby."

He pulled me into a kiss, passionate and slow, curving his left hand against my cheek and his right hand against the outside of my thigh. I leant into the kiss, biting his lower lip and holding his jaw in my hands.

"I'm sorry about the promos."

"It's fine baby, just be with me right now, alright."

"Alright."

I leant back into the kiss as Rod started backing me towards the closed bathroom door, kissing me and slipping his tongue into my mouth before shifting his focus to kissing my neck and nipping at my flesh. The rest of the night was a blur of passionate romance.

When I woke up the next morning, Rod's body was on top of mine and I could feel his flesh pressed against mine, both of us completely nude.

"Roddy." I whispered, trying to wake him

He stirred with a 'hmm' and eventually rolled off of me, getting up and going to the shower. As he showered I did my usual morning routine.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, Rod."

"I'm gonna start looking for a place to call our own, do you have anything ya want."

He got out of the shower and dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and his arms around mine, pulling me towards him, flesh to flesh, chest to bosom, his shorter frame allowing him to nip at my collarbones with small kisses, making sure to leave his mark.

"Some place away from people, but not too far away. Enough rooms for a big family, be that kids or if friends stay over. The potential for I dunno, a pool or an outdoor or indoor gym."

Rod managed to push me backwards out of the room and towards the double bed, pushing me down and walking off to get dressed.

"One of the rooms has to be a nursery of course." I mumbled out, just loud enough for him to hear.

He stopped midway through putting on his sporran, his back still turned to me.

"You mention kids once more and I'm marrying ya and putting a baby in ya. One more mention of children lass."

I decided to tease him, "Alright. Children. Toddlers. Babies. Pacifiers. Strollers," I could tell he was getting irritated and knowing that Rod could go off the deep end at any moment I stupidly continued, "Rod, I am the youngest of my cousins. I was three when my parents married. I went to all my cousins weddings. I was there when every one of them with kids had their first child. Do you think I like being alone forever? Roddy Piper, turn around and talk to me. I feel like a fucking outcast to my own family because I am alone, the tallest and the youngest but I am the only one who left their homeland to pursue a career. Roderick would you just fucking face me and tell me I'm not just a human sex toy to y-"

He cut me off with a rough but incredibly passionate kiss, pushing me against the wall next to the hotel room door, raising my left leg with his right hand and intertwining his left with my long, blonde hair. He managed to slip his tongue into my mouth and grinding his groin against mine, almost hungrily, grunting and growling like an animal, tears soon pricking the corners of his eyes as he pulled away.

"Fuck," He kicked his suitcase along the floor, "I can't take this, I can't take knowing that I make you feel so bad every time I wanna have sex with you. I want to be with you because I love you, I don't want to lose you or walk away from us but, I don't want to hurt you."

"Rod, my Mam gave me something to give to you," I walked over to my suitcase, grabbing a tiny black box and approaching him.

"What's that?"

"A silver ring." I admitted, blushing heavily

"A wedding band? Are you proposing to me?"

"No…"

"I'm never gonna remove this and you know this," He said, putting it on his left ring finger.

"I mean, ya don't have to wear it if ya don't want to." I sheepishly replied, covering my face with my left hand.

"You are bright red right now, Kirbs. Ya so fucking cute, c'mere," He pulled me down onto his lap, gently placing a kiss on my lips, "I would say that, this ring means we're engaged."

"Rod, ya don't have to-"

He cut me off with another kiss, "I'm only suggesting it, I've still gotta propose to you to make sure we ain't leaving each other, ya dafty."

"Roddy, I'd never leave you."

"Kirby, I'm still gonna propose to ya, ya not stopping me from doing it."

We split, with Rod going off to work and me stopping by to make another promo on the Rowdy one.

"Piper, I extend to you the potential to cut a deal here, boyo. If you manage Studd, I will revoke this offer, BUT, I OFFER YOU, PIPER, I offer you this one deal right here and now, I have heard what you say about me when the cameras aren't rolling, how would you like to make those words mean something? PIPER! I offer you A once in a lifetime deal. JUST for you and ONLY YOU! I offer you the chance to unmask the giantess, yes, you AND ONLY YOU, PIPER, will be allowed to remove my mask but only if I am allowed to mend whatever bridge I burnt when I called your talk cheap. I was wrong, you are smart, Piper, but put your money where your mouth is and answer me. Do you wish to take my deal, yes or no?"

By the end of the month I had seen less and less of Rod, every night he would call me and tell me he was 'sorting things out' and to 'wait and see'. We would travel together from show to show, usually with me driving and Rod sleeping next to me, until the night of the twenty-sixth of the February, Piper made us take a red eye flight out to Salem Oregon. We ended up sleeping in a motel that night. Piper woke me up at six in the morning.

"Honey, I need to tell ya something."

"Something good or something bad?"

"That depends," he chucked a pamphlet of some sort over to me, "What do you think of Oregon?"

"It's nice, quaint and quiet, very square buildings though."

"It's nice, quaint and quiet, very square buildings though."

"So ya like it."

I mumbled out a 'yeah' as I looked over the pamphlet, 'Welcome to Salem', judging by the contents of it, Rod wasn't just looking for us to spend a day's holiday here.

"Kirby?"

"Yes, my love."

"You wouldn't mind moving here, would ya?"

I stopped momentarily, locking eyes with the mad Scottish brute and realised he wasn't joking.

"I love you," The words escaped my lips, my excitement to much to contain, "Oh my God, Rod you're the best person in the universe, When do we move in and where's the house?"

"You said you wanted away from people, I got us a small place off the beaten track, I've already looked around it and paid for it, we've just gotta go get the keys from the previous owners and the house is ours."

END OF THE PIT or TALKING AND PUNCHING

[princelestatdelioncourt]

Tell us more about your mortal days...Tell us more about your time with Nicolas. Is not much explained in the books about these times and we would love to know more about Nicolas.... What did you like most about him? what did you hate? (we love Nicolas)

-smiles- First of all I am very happy to know you love Nicki. And allow me to tag here my Nicki @monsieur-nicolas-de-lenfent if he if his mun want to make an input on this. :-) I would love to, since the books are only explained on my point of view and I really would like to know his feelings and emotions during that period of time.

So in regards your questions....

More about my mortal days. There is not much more than hunting and spending time with Nicki and later on in Paris working at the theater and either can be explained in deeply if you tel me exactly what do you want to know. Becasue each moment can be explained with different emotions.

Tell you more about Nicki...what do you want to know about him? - smiles- That I loved his company and even we had deep conversations I loved his cynicism and ways of thinking even if I was not agree. I loved his dedication with music and when we composed his new songs and I tried to sleep and he kept hitting "that" note that was not perfect and there he was again over and over until it was all perfect. Sometimes I protested "Nickiiiiiiiiiii could you stop you can find that note in the morning lets just sleep now" -laughs- I pretended I hated it but actually I loved it and still makes me smile just thinking about it.

What else do you want to know about him? again this questions might have thousand answers depending on what you are really looking for. Remember, ask the right question and you will receive the right answers. Something I ave learned over the years and mentioned in the books.

What I loved most about Nicki... everything. I just can say his eyes or his dedication, its just him. The whole him, the good and the bad. The soul. Him. when one loves someone, that loved is for the whole being not just for that specific thing. I loved Nicki for everything he IS. I loved when he made me smile when I was upset becasue I always had to do thing around the Castle. I loved when we were just drunk happy and we just were unable to laugh becasue I loved to his laugh. His eyes shone, his lips on that beautiful smile. All of his shining with that happiness. I loved these moments to last forever. Also, if we get a little bit private on answers, he is an amazing lover. I have never, ever, in my whole mortal life, experienced anything like with him. I dont know still what he did to me, what he gave me, what he said, what he touched...well...lets not mention that haha....but it was such an orgasmic sensation like never before. I really dont know how to explain it with words. Universe. Big Bang. Inexplicable. And I am sorry, no sorry, for whoever heard us, if you know what I mean. Nicki is a marvelous person inside and out. Yes I know I have said about his darkness and get scared about it but back then didn't not understood. I was a naivee. I thought he was just happy and saw he had so much more deep inside. And I wished I have known all of that and hold his hand and go into this Savage Garden together learning from each other again. Learning from his fears, darkness and all his emotions. Nicki is amazing and should be more respected, understood and loved. He is NOT crazy and I hate people has that etiquette on him. Nicolas the mad man. I hate that. I hate people thinks that. Nicki is a marvel man, he was a tremendous light and soooo much love to give. He is the most deep loving person I have ever met. He is reserved and cynic yes but he has so much love and he is such a good person. I regret so much the fact that I never went to save him, I regret that so very much, I regret I left him with Armand, I see now how things were back then and I see myself inexperienced and terrified. Terrified for Nicki. I was a monster and I never wanted him to suffer in his vampiric life. I wanted him happy. I did not want him to see me a monster and get him scared and leave me. So I had to hide from him and set myself aside and pretend and act cold. and I hated that so much it ripped my soul in pieces. To see the one you love most fade away is something I do not wish to anyone. I gave my mortal life to Nicki when we were at the Village and later on in Paris. The only one by my side. The only one that loved me for who I was, for my mistakes and not be that perfect. For loving me when I needed help with the acts and he helped me to learn the words because was not able to read. He had that patience with me when not even my mother did. So for all of that and more, thats why it was so extremely horrible when slowly I saw him fading away. Thats why I have never said much about it becasue it hurts. Our fears of good and evil now present. Now me as this monster and unable to be with him anymore. I hated Magnus with all my being not for only making me what I never wanted but for breaking into pieces my life, my love and my happiness. Not even a chance to one last night with Nicki, no, he just came and kidnapped me. And I could not bare the thought of Nicki seeing me like this. How much I wanted to hold him, to kiss him one more time. But he could not see me like a monster. I never wanted to hurt him. I never wanted to stick my fangs on his neck and get him. My nature screaming for blood when he was around me that night at the Theater when someone shoot at me and Nicki ran to me and he was around. I screamed to him to get away. When really deep inside I was screaming his name, I was terrified and I needed him, I needed to hold him. I needed to tell him everything is ok. And that horrible night I gave him my blood after all his suffering with the Coven of Satan, I gave him my blood with love and hope we could once again be together. To

continue our conversation forever To travel around the world together. To even complete that fantasy we had to one night play for the King Of France....I gave him my blood on an act of love. And seeing him unable t talk, move or do anything really broke me inside. I didn't know if he hated me more now, I didn't know what was going on inside of him. I could to read his mind. I felt i didn't know what to do. And I thought he hated me now for everything. That last night at the Theater when he said these words to me, I just didn't know and both of us acted with just the emotions we felt at that time. cold, hate, fear, broken love, separation....whatever it was. His eyes were fire, his words venom and i tried to see my Nicki in there and I know now he was there. He was upset and he had his reasons and I do now know, and always knew, I should have never left him there. At that moment, I only saw he hated me and I just could not bare to stay there. Why to stay if he does not loves me anymore? so I left with my mother to travel the world. And let me tell you, There was not a single night I thought about him. I had him always present and I prayed one day everything will be ok. I prayed for his happiness. I prayed that he still could feel love towards me. For all we had and went through before. I prayed that his words to sink together were not real and just words....

So there you have it anon....you made me explain more than I wanted to. With tears in my eyes I wrote this becasue these years will forever stuck with me no matter what and no matter where I am at. But i dont want to end this with a sad note. Just remember what I have said about Nicki. He is marvelous, he is beautiful inside and out. Understand him, do not hate him. Allow him to be him. He is strong, he is just amazing. And no one, none of my other 8 fledglings is like him. And they know, each one of them know what I still feel for Nicki. They understand and respect that and I am so grateful for that. I love each an everyone of them but what me and Nicki had is beyond what I had with any of my fledglings. Remember, I met Nicki when I was still mortal. We shared life together, something non of them, minus my mother Gabrielle, have experienced with me. Not even that time I was on Davids body, even these days were a wreck..different story. So even if I have said that Louis got me more deep than Nicki, perhaps is when I do not allow my "mortal" side of me to get out. So again, yes, What I had with Nicki is something no other had. its deep to the core.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Chapters: 26/38 Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Dragon Age II Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age), Varric Tethras, Isabela (Dragon Age), Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Pride Demon(s) (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic, Prostitution, Drowning, Wilderness Survival, Mind Control, Human Experimentation, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one shackled next to you, save for the chains that bound you both?

Calder was dead.

She hadn't meant to kill him, but it was still her fault. She'd taken away his ability to feel pain or fear. She'd thought it kind. 

Loriel put the body in stasis, so it would not rot, and sat down by it. The floor was sticky. Blood new and old stained her robes. She'd hoped to have years. He'd lasted hardly a month.

Idly she wondered whether he would still be her thrall, if she raised him. Probably not. Blood magic affected the mind through the body; it couldn't touch the spirit. But it didn't matter. She didn't need his spirit. 

(Probably. Maybe.)

She needed to talk to her collaborator. By now the summoning spell came easily.

Veritas stretched catlike through the rip in the Fade. "Hello, little mageling. Have you updates for me? Did you try the experiment I suggested?"

"Yes," she said flatly. "It killed him."

Veritas tilted its head, curiously. "Oh? What did it?"

"I haven't yet ascertained the exact cause.” Her fingers curled into fists and released over and over again. “I didn't think...I didn't realize it would kill him."

Calder hadn't either. He hadn't felt the pain. Her own fault, for failing to appreciate the necessity of pain. How many times would she have to learn the same lesson? She should have known better.

"Shall we discuss the likeliest possibilities?" Veritas offered.

"Oh, you mean you don't know?" Loriel said sarcastically. "You are an utterly useless demon of knowledge."

"As you've so cleverly noted in the past, my dear Loriel Surana, I do not know everything," sniffed Veritas. "If I did, I would have even less use for you than I do now. I have never taken a mortal body and know comparatively little of such things."

It was true that Veritas had shown remarkably little interest in escaping its bindings or trying to possess her. Perhaps that was part of the reason she kept summoning it. The one time she had asked why it showed so little interest in the mortal world, Veritas had said, I prefer to watch.

"Be that as it may," she seethed, "You've killed my only subject. They are not easy to come by."

"Lie. You killed him. As for coming by subjects-they could be easier to come by if you stopped be so precious about where they come from."

"I’m past that. I don't care where they come from," Loriel said. "I care about keeping the loyalty of my Seneschal. If I were some apostate crouched in a filthy cave, I could do as you say, but I am the Arlessa of Amaranthine and Commander of the Grey."

"Hm. You are that. I wonder why?" 

"I have to be. For any of this to matter."

"Lie," Veritas noted.

"Enough. We have work to do,” she snapped. “This situation must be salvaged. I have the body in stasis, but my magic and the taint interact strangely, and it likely will not last."

They talked a while more about what further use Calder’s body might be, before it was too far gone. The next few days went to those experiments. Not useless, but not what she needed.

She did end up raising his shade, out of guilt and grim curiosity. There wasn’t much left of it. Weeks under such crushing mental pressure had left his spirit confused, enraged, and in pain. It didn’t even look human anymore.

It tried to kill her. She dismissed it before it ever got close, but as it was ripped from this world she thought she saw hints of magma in its facsimile of skin. 

For several heart-hammering minutes she believed that she had created a Rage demon.

Veritas confirmed that she might have, or at least, the beginnings of one. But more likely before the seed of psychic nucleation could form a demon, the shade would diminish to a wisp and eventually dissolve into the emerald waters. 

Most likely.

tck

After that she seriously considered stopping. Would she have done that to Calder’s body if she had known what it would do to his soul? She had thought she had accepted the evil in herself, made her peace with it, but in the abyss of her heart there seemed always to be another unseen chasm, and each time she teetered on the edge she could not help but cling to it.

How could she possibly bear to do that again?

But...could she bear to have done that, and known it to have accomplished nothing? Could she bear to find another way, and know that she needn’t have?

Yes. Yes, she could bear it. Veritas would never let her pretend to be too weak for that. But though she could bear a world where she had done needless evil, that did not guarantee it was this world. It did not mean she was free.

She scrubbed her hands until they were red and stinging and almost clean, and went to go receive Brigit’s report.

No new deaths. No new Callings. No sign of the Architect.

“Oh, and Brigit,” Loriel said, almost on impulse, just as the Seneschal prepared to bow and go. “One further question. The sheriff of Amaranthine. What sort of man is he?”

Brigit had taken her Commander’s direction to dress more finely. She wore a high-necked woolen gown beneath a vest dashed through with silverite. Sapphires glittered at her ears. Her back was ramrod straight and she looked every inch a queen. But there remained the trace of hesitation when she answered: “I believe that he believes himself to be a righteous man.”

“And you do not agree with his self-assessment.”

“He is merciful. But he is not just.” Brigit’s lips pressed together. “I have had reports of certain crimes under his jurisdiction going unpunished, or punished far too lightly. Those committed against women, children, elves…I have thought about replacing him, but he is popular in Amaranthine. Mercy, however unearned, often is.”

“No need to replace him. No need to cause an upset.” The barest of pauses. “But perhaps we might consider having more prisoners sent to the Vigil for processing.”

Brigit listened carefully, and spoke slowly: “You wish to offer them the Joining?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Smooth, perfectly reasonable. “Don’t you agree?” 

The Seneschal took her meaning. 

“But of course, I do not insist,” Loriel said quickly. "You know how much I value your opinion.”

Faint color came to the Seneschal’s cheeks. She could have said no. She could have taken the out. Loriel gave her every chance.

“I agree with you completely, ser,” the Seneschal said instead, and she knew what she was doing, she had to have known. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

Loriel did not thank her. Only nodded, and that was her cue to go.

She leaned back and closed her eyes.

If she was going to do this, she could not afford to let her pride keep getting in the way. She needed to talk to the expert. She needed to go see Avernus.

tck

She sent a short, impersonal note to Avernus that she would be arriving that week. She gave no further details. Even if she had been stupid enough to write down anything sensitive, every time she sat down to compose anything, after nearly a full year of silence, her mind went blank.

The ride to Soldier’s Peak was long and full of uneasy dread, but when she arrived, Avernus acted like nothing had happened. He shuffled around his tower, checking on bubbling reagents and pulsating petri dishes of living flesh, asking terse questions without waiting for answers. She couldn’t tell if he genuinely had not noticed the absence of her letters or if this was an act for her benefit—and if it was an act, if it was a kind one or scornful one. 

Even if it were scorn, it wouldn’t matter. There could be no room for pride.

“I’ve begun to use human subjects,” she said bluntly.

She expected him to gloat, but he only snorted, “About time,” and carried on as though it was nothing, about some experiment with artificial flesh.

“Actually,” she interrupted, “that is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh? So this isn’t merely a social visit?” As though they’d ever had social visits. “Well, then, I will say this much—I am certainly glad of it. In truth I did not think you would change your mind so soon, but I am glad you have. Now we might move forward.”

His approval pleased her, and her pleasure in that approval disgusted her. 

Avernus knew in detail answers to questions she hadn’t even thought to ask. How to keep a subject alive, with minimal suffering. How to prevent a subject’s spirit from becoming...that thing she had made. She burned with shame to think that she hadn’t asked him before. So much could have been avoided. Already her pride had wrought so much waste.

The only thing she did not mention  was Veritas. She knew what he would say if he knew, and did not want to hear it. Avernus was still sour about his encounter with the demon possessing Sophia Dryden, and would curse her occasionally, anytime he found another thing wrong with the quality of the Fade.

“By the way,” he said, “that black crystal of yours. I looked through my library. I cannot confirm it, but it may be depleted lyrium. You can copy my notes if you wish.”

“Oh. Thank you. I will.” She’d never even heard of such a thing before. When she had shown the crystal to Veritas, the demon had hissed and flinched and demanded she take it away immediately. It had been so enraged, all thousand of its eyes bent upon the thing in hatred; it was one of the few times Loriel had felt frightened of it.

Somehow, despite it all, they settled into an old rhythm, of stark and easy mutual curiosity and intellectual challenge. The extended period of no contact meant that there was much to discuss; his lab space was no longer even recognizable, and Avernus could talk about his ongoing experiments for hours.

There was only one bench he hadn’t spoken of.

“That is old work,” he said. “I figured out the formula years ago. There are some perfections to be made, of course, but there are greater challenges.”

“But what does it do?”

He raised a nearly nonexistent eyebrow. “Do you not know? This is the same tincture you stole from me, when you first barged into my fortress.”

“My fortress,” Loriel corrected. “My deepest apologies for the intrusion. I hadn’t realized you were so enjoying being trapped in your tower and tormented by demons.”

“I far prefer to be trapped in my tower and tormented by my superior officer.” The man’s grin was truly skull-like. She was thankful he rarely showed it. “So, you mean to tell me you never made use of it?”

“No. I hardly even remember taking it,” she said. Lie, she heard Veritas breathe in her ear. “It was only a passing curiosity. Though I suppose might still have it somewhere.” As though she did not know exactly in which drawer she had stowed it. 

“Hmph. Your passing curiosity cost me four months of work. I had to reconstitute it from scratch. Mind you, the new one was better...so I suppose I should thank you.” Avernus hmphed in amusement and returned to his workbench. “I could tell you hadn’t drunk it yourself, but I thought perhaps you had passed it onto one of your less talented compatriots. That woman of yours, perhaps. Where has that one gotten to, anyway? I have not seen her here of late.”

At first Loriel could only stare in disbelief. By some miracle, in all these years, Avernus had not once, not a single time, ever inquired about her. 

Loriel laughed, a thin dry sound, and couldn’t stop. 

She knew that there was some reason that she liked him. No wonder he hadn’t written over the past year. What was a year to him? He probably had no idea she’d even been angry. That she had spent any time at all worrying about what he thought of her suddenly struck her as the height of absurdity.

“And just what is so funny?” the old blood mage said dryly. Dryly, of course dryly. Anything so old would be so dry. Would she live long enough to dry out like him?

The thought of enduring so many years sobered her instantly. “Nothing. Nothing. My apologies.” She shook her head. “So, what does this tincture do?”

“Yes, yes, don’t be so impatient. It allows a Grey Warden direct access to the taint in his blood, and draw power from it.”

“From the taint? Like blood magic, but with darkspawn blood?”

“Ah, but only a mage might learn blood magic. With my brew, any Grey Warden, even a mundane could have gained this power. Limitedly, of course, limitedly...there is simply no substitute for a lifetime of training, but a strong-willed Grey Warden born without a hint of Fade about him might have eventually bested a mage of mediocre Circle training. A Grey Warden is so intimately connected to the taint in his blood, you know...Many of my subjects mentioned how profoudnly it changed them to truly gain mastery over that part of themselves.” Then he shrugged. “But the side effects could be quite unpleasant. Took me ages to work out a formula that wouldn’t kill the subject sooner or later. Worth it, perhaps, but perhaps not. Certainly  interesting for a Warden mage...there is nothing quite like it. The precision of blood magic, without the cost.” The old mage shrugged. “Mind—the vial you have must have long expired. It is likely poison now. Here is your chance, if you still want it.”

She glanced askance at the bubbling still. “No thank you,” she said primly. “I am not in the habit of experimenting on myself.”

“That is precisely your problem,” Avernus snorted. “But suit yourself.”

Lie, lie, lie, rang Veritas’s sing-song in her head. Of course she had not forgotten the vial. Every once in a while, organizing her cupboards, she would come across it, black and still bubbling, alive, after all these years. She would pick it up, and hold it, and feel its unnatural warmth in her hand. She had done so just last month.

She ended up staying longer at Soldier’s Peak than strictly necessary. There was, as ever, much to do, but for the first time in a long time she was not eager to do it.

tck

“How much powdered deathroot for a draught of neutralization?”

“One of a thousandth of fifteen grams.”

Loriel measured it out, and did not speak again for many long minutes, when she asked: “What is the temperature at which silverite melts?”

“Six-thousand and seventeen degrees.”

She checked the expensive thermometer, ordered for a kingly sum direct from Orzammar, and raised the temperature in the furnace. It would be some time before it would be ready. She would take the opportunity to organize her notes from Avernus. 

Veritas prowled. The summoning spell Loriel had been using lately allowed for it.

“Where was Angletierre?” she asked idly, coming across a name she did not recognize.

“It is an old name for Ferelden, in Old Orlesian.” Loriel hummed vaguely and kept reading, until Veritas lost its patience. 

“Was there a purpose to you summoning me? Or do you intend to sit in silence ignoring me except when you desire answers to your petty questions?”

“The summoning spell takes nearly five minutes,” Loriel said indifferently, turning a page. “It doesn’t make sense to dismiss and recall you each time I have something to ask. You have free movement about this space; use it if you like.”

“You are incredibly rude, to invite a guest into your home and then ignore him all day long.” When she did not respond, it prodded her: “So, how has your pet blood mage been?”

“Same as ever. Naturally.” She set the stack of books and notes that she had brought upon the oaken desk. “I believe I am comfortable moving forward now, with the next set of experiments."

“And when can I expect to meet him? I think he and I would get along.”

“Never. Not happening.”

“Why, Loriel Surana. It almost sounds as though you are ashamed of me. Don’t you want to take me home to meet the rest of the family?”

“Shut up,” she said vaguely, without much venom. “Go and find him in the Fade, if you are so curious.”

“That’s the problem with you blood mages. You hardly touch the Fade.”

“Then you will have to live with disappointment.”

Veritas’s lion tail swished back and forth. “It’s mostly the mages with an unusual propensity for my kind that I can find most easily. Spirit mages, you call them.”

“Mhm.” Loriel stayed focused on organizing the notes. 

“She’s doing just fine without you, you know.”

She was at first so puzzled by the non sequitur that she had no idea how to respond. “Pardon?”

The demon’s eyes blinked and shivered all over its body, as its words slowly registered. 

“You should see her from my end,” said Veritas, relishing every word. “Lit up like a beacon. Impossible to miss. Shall I tell you where she is?”

The spell broke. “No, thank you.”

“She’s in Dairsmuid right now. Surrounded by family and friends, free and whole at last.”

“Good. That was quite the point.”

Silence for a time. “You could have been so happy together.”

“We already weren’t.”

She got through several sheafs before the demon spoke again, “Does it bother you, that you are utterly alone?”

“I am no more alone than anybody else.”

“How interesting. You appear to really believe that.”

“Am I wrong?” She snorted. “We’re all alone inside our heads, at the end of the day.”

“And yet you pour your heart out to a demon, one you regard as not-even-a-person, so desperate are you not to be so alone.”

“I am pouring nothing.” She rolled the scroll up with a snap and turned to give the demon her full attention. “Veritas. Precisely what is the point of this little game?”

Veritas smiled broadly. “Simply making conversation.”

“Not one I am interested in having," she snapped. "I do not live in the past. You cannot draw me there with taunts.”

Veritas chuckled, so deep that the stone itself seemed to shake. “Ridiculous mageling. As though you are anything but a mountainous heap of Past, covered by the thinnest crust of Present.”

She rolled her eyes. “Clever. But if you wish to perturb me then I suggest you try a different approach. I do not think of her. I do not think of that time in my life at all.”

It tilted its head. “How interesting! That was the truth. You really don’t think of her.” It settled, and at first Loriel thought it was the end of it. “But she thinks of you.  And such thoughts they are, shouted out into the Fade for anyone to hear. Aren’t you curious what they are?”

“I have no intention in indulging myself,” she said, which was not, strictly speaking, the answer to its question.

Veritas huffed. “You are intolerably boring.”

“I am truly sorry that I cannot be of more amusement. But there is nothing true in this world that I would flinch to know. I am not afraid of you.”

Suddenly the demon sprang up. She felt rather than saw it move.

“You should be afraid. And you should be sorry.” She could feel its hot breath on the back of her neck. “If you did not amuse me, I would not give you so many truths for free.”

Slowly, slowly, she turned around. It knew as well as she did that if it touched her, it would be bound. Loriel had embedded the glyph in her skin. She made a point to smile. “For free? As though I rely on your generosity?”

“You can no more force me to serve you than drink the Fade.”

“Try me," she hissed. "I like you, Veritas, and I like your company. You keep me honest.” She thought—intended—the spell of repulsive force. The demon skidded away from her, into the corner, growling. “But this latest game of yours is tiresome and nothing requires me to tolerate it. I summoned you in the first place because I was not on speaking terms with my collaborator, and that is no longer the case.”

“Indeed? You have no further need of me?” The demon’s thousand eyes gleamed. “Is that why you summoned me hours ago, just to keep you company?”

“I said I liked your company. Not that I needed it.”

“Hmm. That is so. It seems that there is precious little that you need. And even less you want." Again the demon settled. "You fascinate me, Loriel Surana. You are rude, but you are interesting.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

A period of renewed silence, interrupted only by the scratching of her quill.

“Did you know,” said the demon of truth, “that your mother has been waiting in the courtyard to see you for over a fortnight?”

The spilled ink ruined several sheafs of parchment, and the stain never did come out of the woodgrain.

[mtg-is-life-frf]

The witch

Hello my name is Cassidy but you can call me Cass,but a bad thing happened a couple of weeks ago and...I feel super bad about it but here it is anyway.

-Blackridge woods in Salem Massachusetts-

*on a video recorder*  “Hi guys its me Sunny here with Cass and jess say hi guys” sunny put the camera in our faces and me and Jessica waved “And thats them go follow them of their socals” Sunny listed our social media tags and we went on with our hike. It had been a few hours and we had set up camp in a little clearing right where the sun hits just right and just then as I set down my stuff I feel a water drop hit my face, and another one and like two more after that It was raining “Why now!! goddamn I just put up my shit!!” yelled Jess who had a bad habit of cursing just a random we all ran under a tree and sat there a mud and water stains our clothes and shoes, “well looks like we can start a fire now unless it stops raining” I say as loud as I can to them so they can hear me over the rain, they nod and we put down our stuff, and we pull out our sleeping bags and put them down and went to sleep, but little did we know a woman that looks about 25 watches the awful things that plague her forest and she knows how to get rid of them because for her she has been alive for 300+ years and she has done this before...

-morning-

Morning sun had shine me in the face as I had woken up to Sunnys yells of distress and jess cussing her out telling her to calm the f down, as I walk over to them I hear it “Cassidy... cass come to me dear” the words are clear but as I hear the voice I get slapped in the face “What the fuck jess why would you slap me...bitch” I feel something running down my face..its blood from my nose and Jess knew she fucking knew that would piss me off  “why in the hell would you brake Sunny’s phone you know that she is attached to the piece of A.I shit!!” we all got into a screaming match until we hear it all of us a whisper and..song? it was an eerie feeling all this time I never hear such a beautiful song then a woman appears in my mind with Brown hair and white eyes she stands to 5′9 the hair going down to her thighs and she was smiling with a black raven...with pale porcelain skin and teeth with a black turtleneck on and a black and red bomber jacket on it was a weird vision but all I knew was that she had to be the one I saw...just the one I saw who told me to do this to....kill them...I shake my head and walk away from them only to come face to face with her the woman that I saw she took my hands and asked in the most horrifically beautiful voice ever that echoed in my head and sang a song of chills down my spine...but I remember what I saw on the day I killed them  “do you want to be free from the judgemental world of mortals and be a witches helper all you have to do is give me your soul” and I did when she let go of me I fainted but I could feel her cutting my head open with her nails and her whispering sweet nothings into my head and I could see my friends they were dead their spines had been removed and their bodies where being dragged into the earth never to be found again.

and as for me...you might think i’m dead well you’d be right but here with the O’hara witch I am free of judgement of people I am free to be me and I had already sold my soul to her so all I do now is sit here in utter darkness,in the quiet and it some what calming and i still see my dead dismembered friends and I did post that video to Youtube but I hope Alora is ok with being seen ripping teenage girls into bit and eating their hearts but that kinda up to her and youtube so I have a question....

will you sell your soul to Alora O’hara or known as the O’hara witch?     

[canumoveurseatup-no]

Oh Lord

summary: cast the devil away.

pairing: angel!steve x black!demon!reader

wc: 1.4k (something slight)

warnings: demon shit, smutty shit, rough shit

a/n: inspired by ‘oh lord’ by in this moment. please comment and reblog :)

—————

“I can smell it on you, halo boy,”

He didn’t want to work with you. An angel and a demon in kahoots just to stop a bigger force... and of course he had to be paired with you, a mortal meat suit, in which his body was in love with in a past life.

“Your mortal’s cock still pulses for me,” you swirled the rim of your wine glass before setting it on the table.

“What’s his name? Steve right?”

He hated talking to you, he hated how sinfully sultry your voice was. He hated it all, but he couldn’t help but pray to the Lord in his head to fight mortal needs.

Oh Lord won't you save me. Save me from myself. Oh Lord won't you forgive me, for I have lost control.

“All I have to do is touch the body and it bends at my will,” you go to touch him until he scoots away, looking entirely too terrified.

“Don’t do that. I will not be damned because of your sinful spells!,”

“Oh but don’t you miss me, Stevie?,”

He whimpered at the nickname. The mortal body reacting faster than the angel within could intervene.

“I need a new one! This one is broken,” speaking of his current body.

“Oh poor halo boy. It’s not broken... it just wants me. C’mon give in, get yourself some sinfully sweet pussy, just look at it,” with a simple snap of your fingers you’re naked and your legs are spread wide.

“My mortal body is craving for you.. might as well do something about it,”

Oh Lord won't you tell me, am I the righteous or the damned? Oh Lord won't you please hear me, do I obey or do I command?

Steve was praying but heard nothing from his superior. Holy Spirit guidance is supposed to be stronger than mortal wants but he was in the presence of you, a powerful demon that had a way with words.

“I can not betray my father in such a way. I would lose my wings and it would take 5 forevers to earn them back,”

“But once you get a little taste it will be so worth it,”

Steve hates how feeble these bodies were. He found himself on his knees like he was about to pray but no, his human body was about to worship yours.

Your fingers thread through his hair and smile at him, dark red lips framing your beautiful smile.

“Exorcise the demon, cast the devil away,”

————

Oh Lord can't you save me from my twisted little mind. Oh Lord won't you please show me how to turn the water to wine. Oh Lord won't you show me, am I the sinner or the saint. Oh Lord won't you please tell me was all my suffering in vain.

You lit a candle with a match. Steve felt his human body’s cock twitch when you put the match out by wrapping your lips around the flame.

The once water filled glass was turned to wine and you drank it down with ease before getting down on your knees in front of him.

“You’re gonna enjoy this,” your eyes flashed a venomous black and his back arched as he felt his cock become heavy. He couldn’t describe the feeling but it felt like all of the nerves in his cock were being electrocuted in the best way possible. His thighs clenched and he grunted loudly. Praying for forgiveness as he fell subject to the needs of the mundane.

Oh God have mercy on me. Oh God have mercy on me. Hold me down under holy water. I fear I been laying with the devil, I been laying with the devil, I been laying with the devil, I been laying with the devil

You didn’t even have to touch him to make him feel good and that’s what made his stomach stir.

“Jeez, Y/N,” the name fell off his tongue as if he’s been saying it forever. It was familiar, wanton and needed. He blamed it on the mortal mind and its need for affection and remembrance.

“Gonna blow already, halo boy?,” you licked the head of his cock and he hissed. It made his heart skip a beat but he couldn’t stop. This was too good. Maybe he understood why so many mortals sinned. He couldn’t stop it. It sure didn’t help when you swallowed the cock whole and purposely choked on it, making him place a hand on the back of your head and fuck himself into your mouth.

He felt disgusting... and it was exhilarating.

You pulled back, feeling him close already, “Not yet,”

You climb on his lap and place your lips on his pulse, leaving a dark brown lip print from your lipstick.

Oh Lord please forgive me for what I'm about to do. Oh Lord won't you believe me I burn in hell for you

Steve still prayed every single time your walls wrapped around him. He felt the muscles in his back ache, his wings trying to be the better judgement, trying to get him to stop now while he’s ahead but he just couldn’t. He was a weak angel or maybe you... were just too strong for him to be around. He was a good angel... it was your evil spirit, tainting his holy one and fuck, he should hate it.

Your head is thrown back with a moan when you begin swirling your hips in circles up and down on him.

“No wonder my mortal’s body is so needy for this cock. It’s too good,” your finger wrap around his throat as you ride him harder, ready to feel absolute pleasure course through your veins.

“Oh Lord won't you teach me, teach me how to see,” you whine, feeling some of Steve’s holier than thou essence flow through you, knowing he’s feeling some of your greater evil flow through him, “Oh Lord tell me you love me, am I Lillith or am I Eve?”

Steve knew those words were meant for him. You were like Eve and Lilith built into one and that’s what created the internal conflict.

He wrapped his hand around your throat all the same, giving into the mortal instinct and thrusting up into you, chasing what he was trying to deprive the body of.

“Just like that, Steve. Give into sin, fuck me just like that. Don’t you like the way my pussy feels?,”

He should hate the vulgar words dancing on your tongue but he can’t help but be hypnotized by it.

“Love it so much, cum around my cock. Show me a demon like you can be a good girl and listen,”

He growled as you gripped his throat harder, riding him harder to cum for him. Your moans filled the hotel room as you felt sweat bead on your forehead.

“Gonna cum, Stevie,”

He about made your human body pass out with the strength of his hold on your throat, but your body loved it. It loved the way stars danced on the edges of its vision.

You both saw the past lives of your human bodies as you orgasmed. Seeing all the dates they had together, seeing all the plans they had, the love they made.

It sent chills through both of you that it felt all too familiar as the words filled the air from the both of you.

“I love you,”

————

“Oh God have mercy on me,” he pleaded, “Oh God have mercy on me. Hold me down under holy water. I fear I been laying with the devil, save my soul,”

The initial task was done and you two went both of your ways, Steve dreaded leaving you to go back. But he knew he had to while you got to roam Earth at your own will and probably sleep with whoever you want, it made his blood boil at the temperatures of the hottest flames in hell.

“You can not pray for mercy for something at this magnitude, my child. You must pay for your sins and maybe you will have learned,”

Steve was on his knees as his wings were ripped from his back and he let out a scream, all the angels heard it, all the demons heard it. You heard it.

“You will live amongst the feeble until you’ve learned from your mishaps,”

Before Steve can continue to beg, the ground beneath him opened up and he fell to Earth. His first instinct should be to go to a church and repent, repent, repent.

But no.

His first thought was to find you.

Hold me down under holy water. I fear I been laying with the devil.

——————

Just a little something slight.

PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG!!

tags- @blackreaders-assemble @mbaku-babygirl @retroxvailles @yournonlocalpoc @dumbchick @warmchick @valkyriesnymph @valynsia @veryhellshdia @disaster-rose @here-for-your-bullshit @valentinevirgo @spideys-wife @xye-weirdo @hisxblackxqueen @chonisberonica @crawlingnightmares @kamahriii @vozit @alyssaj23

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ALYX! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF ARAEL.

Admin Rosey: Oh god, I think Arael was one of the characters that caught me by surprise. But the absolutely mastery of this application, did not at all surprise me because only Arael could - and should - be so effortlessly captured within the span of a single application. Tragedy, as you said Alyx, is woven into Arael’s bones and the fact that they recognize it and are so unbroken by it in their countenance says absolutely everything to me. The plots that you have lined up only feed into that tragedy more and I, for one, am absolutely here for it. I think that Arael is ripe for evolving and I completely trust this beautiful starlit character in your capable and loving hands. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Alyx

Age | Taylor Swift vc: Idk about you, but I’m feeling 22!

Personal Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | hopefully pretty active? I have work and classes but I’m taking less hours and my internship is done so I’m hoping I have more time to be on the dash.

Timezone | CST.

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I saw plenty of ads for it on my personal.

IN CHARACTER

Character | 

Arael: “Lion of God”; She couldn’t remember her original name. Her memories of the cold abyss of the galaxy came to her in bits and pieces that she latched onto as one would latch onto an extended hand. She could remember that feeling of peace within her falling star. She could remember that acceptance as her annihilation came nearer. She could remember the rage and melancholy that took over her being as she opened her eyes and examined the wings that protruded from her back and the knowledge that her destiny was ripped away from her. The name Arael was a reminder of that original loss. She was never supposed to be a lion of god. She was never supposed to be an angel stuck on Earth. God had claimed her for himself. He claimed her to be a lion, and all she could do was set her icy gaze on her surroundings and roar until her voice grew hoarse and the burning in her chest faded away.    

What drew you to this character? |

To be honest, I lurked on the admins’ blogs as the RP was originally being promoted. I tend to search for characters I like by quotes and images posted to their tag, and there was one quote on Arael’s tag that caught my attention. I don’t remember what exactly it said, but I knew it meant Arael was a character I needed to keep my eye on.

I love characters with tragedy built into their bones. There’s something so compelling about a character going through hardships and how they react to those hardships. Arael’s power alone showed me that she was a tragic character. To be able to hold everyone’s hope in your hand aside from your own? It seemed like a twisted gift from fate. As I read more, I realized that she was a creature of tragedy. She was pulled from the night sky against her own will. She was made into god’s image without her consent, and forced to endure the knowledge that she had lost her home and her destiny. She stared at the night sky, but she was never truly able to go back to her original home.

I like playing around with grief and how it impacts a character. I like seeing if they drown in their feelings, or if they rise above the grief and move forward with their lives. I think Arael is drowning in her grief. She’s stuck in this tunnel of rage and revenge that will consume her if she’s not careful. She’s blinded by this need, and I find that incredibly interesting to explore. Will she burn out? Will she start a war between the three parties? We’ll have to see.

Her story also kind of reminded me of Buffy Summers from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Not in a direct way, but there was a storyline where Buffy died and her friends brought her back from heaven and Buffy talked about being in peace before they brought her back. Arael being torn from her fate and made into an angel reminds me of that. The melancholy and grief they both felt from being ripped away from their rightful place. The way everyone notices that mourning. It gave me parallels.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? |

“Why are you full of anger? Because you are full of grief.”

→ She was happy. For so long, Arael didn’t know what that feeling entailed. She had looked upon her existence as a punishment. She stared at the realm of heaven and only saw a jail cell. Her body was crafted by god, yet all she felt was unfamiliar in her own skin. Uriel had changed that. She had brought a smile to the otherwise stoic angel’s face. She was warmth wrapping itself around Arael’s cold heart. She was that flicker of hope that Arael felt in other people. She was hers, and someone had ripped that away from her. As she stared into her lover’s empty gaze, all she could think about was doing the same to whoever had killed her. She will rip the world apart if that’s what it took to satisfy the grieving of her heart. The only question will be: who will be spared in the end? 

A big part of Arael is her dealing with that loss of her lover and that need for vengeance. I definitely want to explore her seeking out the answers to the murder. I want to see her dragging suspects to be interrogated in the hope that one day the right person will tell her what she wants to know. I want her to endanger innocent lives in her quest for justice. I want her to be so consumed with rage and grief that either herself or others get harmed in the process. She is a star on a collision path, and I want her to burn and burn out during this journey. Most of all, I want her to find the person who did it. I want her to find them, and I want her to kill them. It's the only way for her to be satisfied. It’s the only way for her to put her grief behind her and search for that glimpse of hope again

“You turn the pain into power.”

 → To some, her powers seemed like a blessing. To be able to hold onto someone’s greatest hope was to understand what truly made someone feel at ease. It was the way their eyes sparkled whenever their favorite person walked in a room. It was the passion that would surge through an individual during that last battle of a war. It was a glimpse behind the mask that people often wore, and Arael held all that at her fingertips. To her, this power was another way fate mocked her. She could feel what people’s greatest hopes were. She could fill them up with so much hope that they would be blinded by that desire. She could do so much for other people, but it would never be done for her. She couldn’t fill herself up with that hope. She couldn’t understand that blinding urge that she gave out. What does one do with a gift that serves to remind someone of the very thing they’re lacking?

I want to explore the depths of her power. I think that there’s more to be discovered with her abilities, and I want her to discover exactly what she can do with her gift of hope. I want her to see if her power could be used in the opposite direction. Could she drain someone of their hope? Could she blind someone with utter hopelessness to the point that they see nothing but their dreams slipping from their grasp? I think it would be a dangerous discovery if it were possible. I would also like to see a situation where her gift is irreversible— whether it be gifting hope or taking it away. Perhaps anger clouds her abilities and she over exerts her gift. Perhaps she’s trying to find an ounce of her own hope by filling someone up with so much hope that they become a shell of their former self. I want to push her powers to its limits, and I want Arael to see what sort of consequences are dealt from that discovery. 

“You allow your anger to blind you.”

→  Arael’s been in a fragile state since the death of Uriel. To feel the small hint of hope get ripped out of her hands by an unknown assailant left her in a state of brokenness. She’s blinded by this ideal that she’ll be satisfied with vengeance. She has it built up in her mind that the death of this assailant will bring her the peace that she almost had with Uriel—- the same peace that was ripped away from her by god. What do others feel about this mentality? Do they find it foolish? Do they understand her mentality? Or perhaps they see an opportunity hidden behind those aching eyes? 

I want to explore the concept of manipulation with Arael. I’m usually not fond of manipulation plots, but I feel like Arael’s in such a vulnerable state right now that it might be possible. I want someone to see that anger and despair. I want someone to see this utterly terrifying, broken angel and use it to their advantage. She’s the perfect weapon if used correctly. Her tunnel vision for revenge could easily be directed towards someone’s enemy if they whispered the right words to her. She could start a war if the correct side twisted her enough. I want to see her revenge used for someone’s personal plans. Maybe she kills an innocent person because she was led to believe they were present during her lovers death. Maybe she drags an innocent victim to Abaddon because she was led to believe they had valuable information. I want to see that manipulation, and I want to see the fallout of it. 

“You reach for a soul that forever escapes your grasp.”

→ Arael loved Uriel, or at least it was the closest she ever got to love. The angel had gifted her a slice of hope that she had lacked since her creation, and Arael has been seeking a semblance of that hope since her departure. She feels lost, like she was back to her first years as a star-turned-angel, and she hates that feeling. She hates the emptiness that fills her heart as she watches the mortals her companion once adored. She hates the way she feels so distant from the other angels. Most of all, she hates that their love story ended so abruptly. She misses her with every fiber of her being. One often wonders what they would have their final words be to a loved one, but what if she could have that do over? What if she could catch a glimpse of her again?

I want her to approach Ryuk about contacting her dead lover’s soul. I think there’s a variety of reasons why she would want to talk to Uriel again. I think the most basic one would be that she wants to see her again—- even if it’s only through Ryuk’s words. This was the one person that broke her out of her shell and showed her that the world was worth more than mourning. The most plot related reason would be that she can ask her what her last memory was. Arael has exhausted her options when It comes to possible suspects, so perhaps Uriel could remember who was around during her death or who even caused her to perish. I also like the thought of Uriel advising her against this revenge quest, and Arael refusing to listen. She doesn’t realize that this isn’t what her lover would’ve wanted. She doesn’t realize that she’s doing more harm than good. It’s overall a more personal plot, but it’s good development for her and helps lead to either her collapse or her breakdown at realizing what she’s becoming. 

“Anger was better than tears.”

→  Mortals were the envy of God’s creations. Angels were tasked with protecting them like a dragon protects its treasures. They razed cities, enacted miracles, all for the species that found favor in God’s eyes. Arael was never a mortal. She never understood the significance of their kind. She had no attachments to the beings aside from those tasks formerly given to her. She didn’t care for them like Caphriel did. She didn’t despise them as others might. Her feelings towards them might be classified as indifference. However, the stance changed after the death of Uriel. Eyes that might have had a glimpse of care for the beings shifted into anger at the thought of one of them murdering her beloved. Eyes that casually looked over the beings stuck to watching them with careful eyes. One human in particular has gotten caught within her storm. The question is: will she shatter the tentative peace that held the world together? Perhaps a bigger question is: will she have any regrets if she does? 

Personally, I find the thought of Arael killing Bastien quite sexy. This would be completely up to the Bastien player, but even if it didn’t go that far, I still love the connection. I like the thought of Arael breaking that peace between the three factions. She sees Bastien as this arrogant fool, and she’s bothered by his position of power. How does her Uriel, gentle and kind, die while men like him thrive? It frustrates her. I’d like to see her knock him from his place at the table. Whether this be done through violence or jeopardising his spot amongst the ten would be up to the Bastien player and what they feel comfortable with, but I can work with either one. Arael’s desperate for some sort of vengeance. I think the more she struggles to find the one who killed Uriel, the one she’ll lean into these desires to destroy someone else, and Bastien is the unfortunate victim of her wrathful gaze. 

“You’re a being of isolation.”

→ She is the only one of her kind. No one else knows what it’s like to live amongst the stars. No one else knows what it’s like to be plucked from the night sky and recreated in someone else’s image. No one knows the loneliness that comes with such a fate. The other angels are her brethren, her allies, but they don’t relate to her on that level. She’s a solitary creature, a lone star stuck wandering the earth, and it’s a painful existence. Will she ever figure out that some stars lay in clusters? Will she ever realize that she has the opportunity to shed that loneliness? It’s hard to say. It’s hard to pull herself out of the isolation that she chose from the start. 

I want to explore her dynamic with the other angels. I think Arael struggles with connecting to them due to her origins. She doesn’t have that connection of being formed from the Earth or reborn as an angel. She’s different from the others, and that caused her to separate herself. I want to see how they take her quest of revenge. Surely some of them were close with Uriel, maybe even close with Arael, so perhaps they would support the mission. On the other hand, I’d love to see that disapproval. I want to see them trying to temper her anger only to be met with an icy glare. I’d love to see someone try to talk her down from her grief. She’s blinded by this mentality of an eye for an eye, but she doesn’t realize how that affects her fellow angels. I want them to show her how it affects them. Let them get caught in the crossfires of her vengeance. Let them struggle to pull her away from the brink. I think the angels quietly realizing that this fallen angel, this hollowed soul, might do some real damage would be delicious to watch. 

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Absolutely!  

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation |

They say the story of Arael is a tragic one. She was a burning star plucked from the sky and formed into god's image. She was placed among the angels, meant to stand holy and divine alongside her new brethren, yet she found herself standing alone. This angels story isn’t built on blessings. Her story isn’t a fairytale told to the young mortals in an attempt to sooth them to sleep. No, her tale is built on loss, and that’s what motivates her throughout her journey.

Her original loss is the loss of her original destiny. She was stripped of her purpose, ripped away from her original form and forced into a foreign body. She stared at her reflection and a stranger peered back at her. She examined her wings and only saw the fragments of her former self embedded within her feathers. She destroyed cities on God’s behalf, and yet all she could feel was a hollowness in her chest. Loss was her mentality within this point. That acknowledgment of what she’s become and how to endure that was her guiding factor in her initial years of life as an immortal being.

The next stage of loss was the loss of her hopelessness. Uriel had dragged her away from that hole she tucked herself in. The fellow angel opened her eyes to the possibilities of life, and for the first time, Arael’s world wasn’t a bleak landscape. She had color in her vision. She had a slight light in her eyes. Her smile wasn’t forced. She was learning what it was like to look at life as an adventure rather than a chain wrapped around her ankle. This stage of loss was a good thing. It was a stage of growth for the distant angel. She lost that depression that overcame her during her early years. She lost that emptiness that had wrapped itself around her like a blanket.

This latest stage of loss is the cruelest of them all. This burning star, this cold-eyed angel was finally learning the most human of experiences: death. She felt that small sliver of hope rip away from her as she held Uriel’s prone form in her arms. Her body shook with anger as she realized she was once again alone. Her motivation stems from the impact of that loss and the grief that nestled inside her heart. She’s driven to revenge. Her eyes are blinded by the need to punish the person that ripped that hope from her. A part of her knows this is a dangerous path. She knows what happens to stars that burn too brightly. Yet, the loss keeps her locked in its grasp. If she is to burn out, if she is to be destroyed, let it be with the knowledge that she has conquered the loss that has been trailing after her for years. 

In-Character Para Sample | 

“I brought another one.”

The history behind her statement was not lost on her. Each week she’d latch onto a lead. Each week she’d drag them into the heart of the black cells. Each week she’d watch Abaddon pull out any sort of answers they might have buried in their chest. Each week she’d feel the bitterness of disappointment settle on her tongue as she realized she reached another dead end. It ended the same every time. It couldn’t end the same way this time.

Her eyes traced over the features of her latest endeavor. His porcelain skin and almost white hair reminded her of Uriel, but the resemblance wouldn’t help him out of his fate. She had plucked him out of the crowd in hopes that he had any recollection of that fateful night. With each individual, She wanted a direction. She felt herself grasping at ghosts as the figures from her memory dwindled, and this feeling of loss was becoming all too familiar. 

She released her hold on the boy and watched him try to scramble his way out of the cells. Mortals always seemed to have that reaction. Their fight or flight kicked in, trying to make sense of the location they were forced into, before finally realizing the fight was for nothing. They will leave once she gets the answers she’s seeking. 

And yet, the boy wasn’t providing those answers. She watched him endure the torture despite the pain it brought him. She watched him fighting back tears, denying pain until it couldn’t be denied anymore, and yet still the answers remained behind clenched teeth.  

“Again.” 

Her voice was strong as she stared at the bleeding, frightened human before her. She refused to accept that she had reached another dead end. She clung to her quest with sharp claws, and she refused to release her grip for even a second. She was a vengeful angel, a flame with no mercy in sight, and all would endure the burning until she felt satisfied. 

Her eyes flicked upwards to meet Abaddon’s, but she didn’t turn away. She didn’t care if the demon saw the hurt in her eyes or the flash of desperation that would spill out every time a mortal came to her with no answers. Maybe the demon had the same look when they got tossed out of god’s favor. Arael didn’t ask. Their relationship wasn’t built on sharing stories or reminiscing over almost forgotten memories. Their relationship was a mutual understanding--- a knife and the being that wields the instrument. 

“Do it again until I say otherwise.” Do it again until I can hold any sort of answers in my hand. Do it again until the ache in my chest disappears for a second.

Arael watched the mortal flinch at Abaddon’s nod with cold, unfazed eyes. The scream that erupted from the boy’s mouth would make others grieve, but it only reminded her of the hollowness inside of her. She felt nothing as she watched the pain on his face. She felt only her own rage trying to crawl out of her chest. Perhaps this is what it meant to be a star. Perhaps this was her destiny all along---- to burn from the inside out until nothing but a hollow shell remained. 

And perhaps she’ll succumb to her destiny, but only after the grieving in her heart is satisfied. She’ll burn up, but she’ll bring the person responsible for her demise with her. 

Extras | 

Inspo tag: https://elidclochan.tumblr.com/tagged/insp%3A-arael

Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/aesthctics/insp-arael/