#they take the brunt of most of it and try to keep him from losing his mind

[nicos-oc-hell]

While I’m stressing over finals, have some oc content in the form of videos and lore posts because I refuse to be near a computer outside of school until next week. Send an ask if you have questions about any of my ocs that can’t be found on their profiles or if they don’t have a profile yet.

I realized I never made like an actual post talking about Dimitri being possessed and all of his diagnoses. At the age of seven Dimitri was possessed by two spirits, a kitsune and one of his ancestors. At the age of ten he was diagnosed with Multiple Personalities Disorder (MPD, it’s the 80s so the term switch hasn’t happened yet). At the age of 14 Dimitri was bit by a werewolf.

Most of his character development is revolved around coming to terms that he can’t ignore his diagnosis, the fact that he’s a werewolf and the fact that he’s possessed by two dickhead spirits as it is all apart of him. It got pretty hard ignoring them once he realized that he would need Ricardo’s help if he was to take over the family business like his grandparents want him to.

He also had to learn how to control not only the powers he gained from Húlí, the kitsune, but also to learn how to hold back Ricardo, his many times great uncle, from taking his revenge out everyone. Then there’s the trying to figure out how to not randomly turn into a different person when he’s stressed out.

The switches were never noticeable until at least five minutes after they happened because that’s when people realized Dimitri or Damian or Volk (the werewolf) was no longer with them. It became slightly easier when Dimitri mastered his mist flames and they all started reconfiguring the body into their imagine of what they wanted to look like.

There’s six “personalities” as the psychiatrist likes to call them. In reality there’s only three personalities, Dimitri the “main” that’s just regular shmegular Dimitri with all his mental disorders. Depression, anxiety from whenever he’s near Giotto and Angelica (his father and mother), PTSD, the adhd. Faceclaim: Jabari Banks

Ricardo is the many times great uncle of Dimitri. It’s not really known how Dimitri came to be possessed by Ricardo and you can’t really take the word of a known psychopath. He takes the form of what he looked like before he died, a curly brown haired and blue eyed Italian. Faceclaim: Penn Badgley

Húlí is a kitsune who had recently “accidentally” got their previous user killed in the forest behind the Vongola mansion. Húlí attached onto the closet powerful being they could so there wouldn’t be another mishap like what had happened with the previous user. He’s not necessarily a vengeful spirit, he just loves to fuck with people and uses his powers to inconvenience others. Faceclaim: Son Woo-Hyun

Volk is what Rowen started calling Dimitri’s werewolf and it kinda just stuck. Dimitri got bit at the age of 14 while he was wandering around the expansive forest behind the mansion even after he was explicitly told to stop going back there. During the week leading up to the full moon is when Volk decides to be present and he didn’t want to be left out of all the fun of switching Dimitri’s body around. Faceclaim: Tom Welling

Trigger warning for the reasons behind Damian and Demeter’s alters

Then there’s Damian, he was formed to keep Dimitri from remembering most of his abusive history with Giotto. Damian is who mostly interrupts Dimitri’s life if he feels something could trigger Dimitri. Damian will often forth when Dimitri ever has to interact with Giotto or his mother to shield Dimitri from their abusive tendencies. He tends to take the form of a more Asian looking boy to try and connect more with his Asian side of the family. Faceclaim: Ryan Potter

Demeter, she was formed after an incident in Russia when she was 8 that she doesn’t like to talk about. She is meant to reflect the childhood Dimitri should’ve had growing up without the threat of his father having a bad day and taking his anger out on him. She takes the form of young Dimitri and her name is where Dimitri derived from. Faceclaim: Mila Davis-Kent

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon and then dubcon, suggested age gap ( reader is early 20s, yujiro is late 30s ), light degradation, impact play, clit torture, reader cries, name calling ( whore ), face slapping, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eight [ yujiro hanma + impact ]

it takes two fingers to make you cry.

two of Yujiro’s massive, powerful digits to make you tremble and beg for mercy.

“Shameful,” he mutters, an air of disdain to his rumbly baritone. as if he’s disappointed in how quickly you turn to blubbering. “I’ve hardly touched you.” but the wicked grin he wore told the truth— that he knew how much pressure he’d applied with those two fingers, and he expected nothing less than to make you sob. “And I can’t tell from those whiny noises if you’re really needy or fucking pathetic.”

you were both.

the length of his fingers rub between your sticky folds, their thickness forcing your netherlips to slot around them, and you squirm and pant, but it’s when he taps against your swollen clit that you really lose it. unlike any other man, when the rough pads make contact with your button, you don’t feel the sting on the exposed and vulnerable exterior nerves as if you’ve been spanked, but the raw power he could channel through his fingers. it surges through your core, seeping deep into you, reaching spongy, hidden clusters of sensitivity that should be impossible. as if he’d aimed right for them, he focuses each assault. your clit throbs, but it’s the iceberg’s submerged nerves that take the brunt of the impact.

“Y—Yujiro!” you cry out, as you twitch and writhe beneath him.

you didn’t know how this was possible.

how he could do this.

it shouldn’t have been possible.

and yet, when he did it again, battering your body’s defenses with a drumming of his two fingers against your clit, and you feel as though he’s struck you with a high voltage cattle prod, your back arches, desperate to push him off. your heels push against the mattress, eager to try and scramble away from the sensation.

“That—!” that hurts like hell. it’s too much. what are you doing? these all came to mind, but you couldn’t voice a single one. his fingertips drum against you, a barrage of rapid fire, superhuman pressure targeting your most sensitive depths, and you threw your head back, tears pricking against the corners of your eyes. it hurt, but there was more to it than just pain. as if he’d stuck the world’s most powerful vibrator directly against your hyper-sensitive interior nerves, a rush of flustered euphoria rushes to your stomach, knotting it up. “S-s—top—“

you weren’t sure if you really wanted him to, though. your body screamed and writhed, convulsing as he attacks your sex, but at the same time, your toes curl tight, and your breath turns into furious, warm puffs. your hips winding like a snake, trying to hump up against his large, rough hand.

“I-I’m— gonna—!”

“Cum from the abuse?” Yujiro’s voice is low, his mouth twisted in a hungry smile that could be misread as a grin. “Your little legs are starting to tremble; you’re sobbing but you can’t stop riding my hand, begging for me to keep hurting you. Do you know what that makes you?”

you look away, smearing your tear-stained cheek into the pillow as you pant and mumble, hoping for a mercy that you knew he’d never give you. “Yujiro… p-please…”

“Go ahead and say it.” tap. tap. tap. you gurgle and grunt, hips bucking as you smother your own whimpers. “What does that make you?”

you knew what he wanted to hear. the word he’s drilled into your head since day one. the word that he’s called you over and over. but you couldn’t say it. not without a little more persuasion, which he was more than willing to give you.

your face is tiny and delicate as he snatches it up by your chin, dragging it back and pushing the back of your head into the pillow. “Look at me,” his massive chest rises and falls, he snorts every, heavy breath through flared nostrils. you flinch, bathed in the heat of his ragged breathing, smushed into the mattress, forced on your back. you hear the smack of his palm making contact with your supple cheek before you feel the certain pain to follow, and it rocks your face to the side. in the moment that follows, fire floods your face and you see stars, and blink rapidly to maintain your eyesight. “One more time. Look here.” he says, his mighty thumb pressing against your chin as he pulls your face back into place. you’re staring at him in shock, his second mind numbing slap coming down hard on the same spot. to him, it was the mildest swat, but to you? your head was swimming, as if he’d slapped your brains loose, and you’re vaguely aware of the thickness of two, massive digits between your thighs pushing into your clenching hole.

“F—fuck—!”

“You’re covered in my marks, the shape of my hand will be a bruise on your face for a week, maybe longer.” he seems to chuckle at that, angling your face back to him. you worry he might hit you again. you prepare for impact, but it doesn’t come. he just holds your face there. you’ve no choice but to comply, peeking up at him with sparkling eyes and parted lips. “But you’re still fucking wet. Your cunt is still squeezing my fingers, and you’re still going to cum. What does that make you.”

“A…. Whore….” your voice is soft, and you choke on the word, almost not wanting to say it, but when you do, a wide, demonic grin stretches across his face, turning his muscles into elastic.

“Not good enough. Whose?”

“Y—Your… whore.”

[thatfreshi]

As a prompt - maybe Astarion (or Tav for that matter) going absolutely feral (and i mean really) when someone or something hurts badly the other (or try to) ?

I don't know of it has already been donc by you and if it has sorry, really appreciate your writing though ! Thank you <3

Learning to trust is difficult

tw - themes of death, talk of injuries

"I just don't know how you don't seem to care! It's bad Astarion, really bad, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you hurt."

While you and the vampire were on night watch, you got jumped by some thieves scrounging around in the woods of the Sword Coast. He took the brunt of the fight, taking quite a couple slices to the abdomen.

"We'll wait til morning, like I said. Shadowheart will be rested by then, and we'll all be fine."

"Oh right, so you can bleed out? You think you're such a jester, don't you."

You already dealt with the perpetrators, making sure they were flayed across the grass, any hopes they had of stealing from you shot down from miles away.

"If it were that bad I would wake her Tav, but it's not."

Gods, he's frustrating. Driving you to the point of madness, constantly. For someone who finally has a second chance at life, he can be quite reckless. Instead of trying to argue with him further, you walk over to where he's propped himself against his bedroll, and start undressing his wounds. He almost tries to push you away, but the lightest touch of the cuts makes him lose his strength.

"Tav, stop it."

"No! Because you can wrap these all you want, but if you leave these like this overnight it's going to get nasty, and I know for a fact you can't stitch wounds like this."

"Then it is was it is."

"No, I'm getting her. Stay here."

Astarion grabs at your wrist. There's a dreary silence for a moment, and he refuses your eye contact.

"I've done this by myself, for how long? Do you have any idea what it makes me feel like, having to turn to someone who is practically a stranger, and put my life in their hands? I did that once my love, and I have regretted it ever since."

And you know exactly what he's talking about, that night in the alley, fragmented memories only covered up by digging through six feet of dirt.

"You would've died though."

"Perhaps it would have been best that way."

You know that no selfish reason you have about wanting him around could ever make up for all the things he endured under Cazador, that if he had bled out that night he would at least be at peace.

"This is different though. We're all working together, we all want the same things. Shadowheart isn't going to hold this over you."

"You don't know that. I mean look at me. I planned on seducing you and getting rid of you as soon as I could, all to keep myself safe. We will never truly know what the others want, what their intentions with us are."

"Then why trust me?"

He hesitates as you wrap his abdomen once again.

"I... I don't know... You're just, different."

"Then what's to say Shadowheart isn't also different? Or any of them for that matter?"

You cup his face in your hand.

"It's just easier to risk one of you. To risk loving you, and only you. Because if you betray me? Then I've played myself for a fool, and I can't have two knives in my back."

"You don't have to trust her Aster, but you need her right now. We need her, because I can't lose you either."

Your hand trails to his, and you feel at each other's fingers for a few long moments. He tries to come up with something to say, knowing he will most likely bleed out if you two don't wake the cleric.

"You trust me right? You're making that risk at least, taking that chance? Then trust that I'm trying to make the right choice for you."

Even if he doesn't bleed out, he doesn't deserve to writhe in pain all night, to which you're sure he would say something about how he's done it a million times before. Why, why does he try to be strong for you?

"Alright my love, wake her."

You get up without a word, planting a quick kiss on his forehead before leaving the tent, your feet gliding to where Shadowheart is sleeping.

"Shadowheart, we need you."

She's a light sleeper, like most of you, and wakes with the few simple words you speak.

"What it is?"

The cleric asks as she walks with you.

"Astarion. We had some unwelcome visitors on watch. It's... it's not pretty."

You come back to your tent, gently moving the fabric by the entrance as Shadowheart moves to him, focused on doing what needs to be done. She unwraps the bandages and you come to his side. He's silent.

"Lady of Sorrows, this is horrific Astarion. How long have you let this sit like this?"

It takes him a moment to muster the words, still clearly embarrassed to be receiving her help this late. You've learned though that he hates people speaking for him, so you just wait.

"It's been about half an hour. Tav and I have been arguing about getting your assistance. They insisted we wake you, and I insisted we shouldn't bother."

"Well, you're lucky Tav isn't as stubborn as you are, because this is nasty. While I'm not as familiar with vampire anatomy, this would not have sat well overnight."

She takes a moment to gather herself, before casting healing touch, letting the magic linger a little longer than normal. You watch as his pale skin slowly comes back together, stitching itself up like embroidery thread. Shadowheart takes a moment to admire her work, smirking slightly. Her expression then becomes somber for a moment.

"As much as I'm not the sappy type, please don't hesitate to get me when you need me. Despite how much you all annoy me, I'm still rather fond of you as companions. I would hate to see any of you go too soon, especially over something as simple as this."

Astarion says nothing in return, and soon after the devout Sharran leaves the two of you alone. The two of you lie down, wrapping yourselves up in each other, limbs entangled as if you're scared of being torn apart.

"I know it's hard, but you have to learn to ask for help. If not for yourself, for me. Because I can only do so much my star."

"I know."

"I'm sorry I yelled. It just really scares me, the idea that I could lose you."

He nuzzles into your chest, the movement dampening his voice.

"I don't think anyone's ever been afraid to lose me, except me. And I fear I lost myself far too long ago for it to matter."

You wrap your fingers in his hair, sitting in the sorrow with him.

"All things that are lost can be found. And we'll find you again my love, I promise."

He doesn't thank you, which you don't mind. After all, Astarion isn't used to having anyone to genuinely thank. But the way he lets you hold him, that slowly but surely the walls are coming down, that's his own way of saying it, saying that he's grateful. And as long as he lives to see another day, you'll take whatever he gives you, for as long as both of you live.

[neonovember]

Hello, uhm, so this MAY be an uncomfortable thing to request I’m not too sure. It’s totally totally okay if it is absolutely feel free to ignore this, but the way you write Carmen is so so comforting. I have this neighbor that lives downstairs from me, I’ve lived in my apartment for two years but the past 4 months with this guy has been hell. I live in the U.K. and the people that own the building and the police don’t view my situation as anything dangerous or serious, despite the fact I have made numerous complaints and even the other neighbors in my building have complained about him. But he targets me the most and bangs on my door at ungodly hours and threatens the most horrible stuff because I’m a woman living alone. I’m honestly terrified but unless he physically does something there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry for the sob story but usually I always try and just picture Carmy as something comforting to help through this until I can be safe, would it be okay to request something like Carmen finding out about his gf losing sleep and constantly being terrified and deciding to take matters into his own hands, and demanding she moves in with him and helps pack her stuff because he will NOT stand for that shit (again totally 100% okay if you don’t feel comfortable responding)

oh my god anon, I'm so deeply sorry that you have to deal with such a shitty situation, and the fact that you have to wait to be physically attacked before the police can do anything? Fuck the justice system and fuck law enforcement. Don't every feel scared to send a request to make your day or week or fucking month better, it's why I'm here, and the fact that my writing can make you feel even a little better is the greatest gift i could ever ask for. God I just hope you're able to remain safe, call a friend or family to keep them posted in case anything happens, I'm so very sorry honey :(

Broken bones and soup

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: misogyny, violence, feral!carmen makes an appearence, angst, horrible neighbours, angst, teeth rotting fluff, carmy feeding you

w/c: 5.3k

a/n: this was hard to write, i really wanted to do it right by you anon, and when have i ever written carmen without him breaking someones face?

The falling sun encapsulated the cerulean sky, exploding against the horizon in heated shades of orange, crimson and pink. The trail back to your apartment complex wasn’t long, but it gave enough time to bask in the warmth of evenings bathed in sunlight. It also conveniently enabled you to tell yourself you had gotten your sun for the day, rather than having to swallow pills you hated to swallow.

It was muscle memory however, your legs moved with the familiar comfort of the sidewalk, forgetting the stomach turning realisation of what had awaited you back at your apartment. 

It had been a couple months, four maybe 5, you didn’t really want to count the days having a violent neighbour moved in directly down your apartment. The other tenants who you've grown to know collectively bristled with the annoyance of a 30 something year old filling the usual peaceful nights with crashes and yells of broken plates and incoherent obscenities. 

When you had raised the issue to the landlord and even to the police, you had been shut down with a shrug of the shoulders. 

‘We can notice him with a noise complaint, but if he aint hurting anyone we can’t do much’. 

That had made you laugh a little then, before you had been close to bawling your eyes out and ripping out your hair. Sure he was loud, your neighbours from the other side of the apartment complex could attest to that, but it was so much more than loud fucking music, and somehow, you had bared the brunt of his violence. It was targeted, you knew it, and your legs began to shuffle at the thought of coming home to another violent outbursts at your door. 

You hadn't gotten any proper sleep for the past 4 months, waking up to loud banging at your door, and declarations of brutality he whispered through your keyhole. It was all empty threats, those men in clad uniform had told you when you woke up shaking with fear as he screamed taunts of murder from below, you had run out in your pyjamas and bunny slippers and they had told you they couldn't help you. 

There were not empty threats, and this wasn’t the hundreds of true crime shows you had binged, you felt it in your bones, you were a woman living with yourself for god sake, he was going to break down your door one day and hurt you, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt paralysed by the helplessness of it, forcing yourself to stay up past 12, the burn of your tired eyes forced open by the blue light of your phone, in case he tried breaking in. You had begun to keep a bat near your bed, a knife in the drawer of your bedside, and you felt fucking insane. Noone had made a major problem out of it, and yet you felt like he was one bad day from a murderous rampage.

Carmen could tell something had been wearing on your shoulders, the way your eyes blinked slowly, and the syrup slow movements of your limbs when you had visited the Beef not long ago. You couldn't bear to tell him, your past relationships had taught you enough not to unload all your problems onto another person, but it had gotten bad. You had started getting notices of concern from your boss, asking if you were alright, telling you how your performance had been declining.

You had quickly shut down any looks of concern thrown at you, this was something you had to deal with yourself, you didn’t want anyone, especially another woman to be faced with the brunt of his violence. You guzzled caffeine and energy drinks like it was water, and your limbs jittered with the rush of adrenaline until the peak had dropped and you felt like your stomach was ripping itself apart.

You braced yourself as you turned the corner into your apartment complex, keeping your head down, and going through the carpack to avoid the hallway that was right next to his door. You felt your stomach drop, your keys pressed between your knuckles and you flickered your eyes up to the door of his apartment. You watched it like a hawk, ready to flee at any sign of opening, and when you had finally made it to the elevator, you breathed a sigh of relief like no other. The air suddenly fills your lungs once again.

Your phone buzzed in your jean pocket, and you reached out to grab it, the screen illuminated by Carmen’s text. You felt a tingle of glee shoot through you, biting back a smile at the thought of seeing him today.

“You still coming today for the family dinner?”

The beef had begun a sort of tradition, every last Friday of the month, they would close early and hold a sort of family dinner right out back near the tables and chairs. Everyone of the crew’s family and friends were invited to join, some bringing a plate or a drink or two. It was the highlight of the month, and you hadn't missed a Friday ever since Carmen and you had become something more than close friends.

You typed out a quick reply with a tongue in your cheek, as the elevator doors opened, you didn't look up right away, walking with your head down as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. It was a fault on your end, you should have looked up, at least then you could have braced yourself as your neighbour stood stationed near your door with a cheshire smile stretching ominously across his face. 

You wondered if you could run back into the elevator, but the doors had closed well before and you feared turning your back to him was an even worse fate. You walked towards him, plastering on a smile that didn't look even a little believable.

“Something I can do for you?” You ask, your voice heightened by a mix of fear and false confidence

“Hear you've been complaining about me” The man replies with a smile, his hair slicked back, the shadow of a badly shaven skin spiking up. His shirt reeks of sweat and stains of spilt takeaway and you have to take a tentative step back to escape the stench radiating off of him.

“Yeah, you might not realise it, but you have been a bit- uh loud, and the loud banging on my walls?” You prouch him, and his eyebrows rise in surprise, shaking his head with a laugh that horrified you.

“Am I scaring you?” The man replies 

You swallow as your eyes flicker to his burnt hazel ones, they stare down from above, almost mocking in the way they forced you to answer.

“Uh, uhm- well, a lot of us got work in the morning, and I can’t wake up if you're making a lot of noise during the night”

“Oh, is that right?” The man asks, scratching a hand across his jaw

“Well no one's been the one complaining but you” The man replies

“I don't think so many of us-”

“You saying I’m a liar??” The man suddenly shouts, and you can help yourself stepping back a distance quickly

The man watches the way you distance yourself away from him, his eyes flicker to the keys poking out from between your fingers and he bites back a laugh.

“So you are scared of me, liar.” The man spits out with venom, before stepping towards you, caging you to the wall as he whispers near your ear

“You think fucking keys are going to stop me? A little lady like you living here all by yourself?” The man digs his fingers into your sides, until you howl out and retch yourself away from him, you reach for your right side, holding the skin above your rib cage that had begun to swell and bruise.

“See how easy that was? A fucking pretzel in my hand” The man calls out with a smile, before walking back around the hallway corner with such ease and comfort that told you he knew the police wouldnt do shit.

Your hand shakes as you shove your key into your door, you have to hold your own hand to put it in, before shouldering your way through your door with wince, and dropping your bag and belongings to the floor.

You rush into your bathroom, undressing before your eyes flicker to your mirror, seeing the red rash of irritation and the start of a purple imprint of his claws shoved into the skin below your ribcage. You wince as you try to soothe it, the salty tears breaking down your waterline, you can't stop, the wretched sobs of your helplessness echoing off the bathroom walls.

You climb into the shower, sliding down to the bottom as the tears shake through you, you hug your knees to your chest, letting the warm water combine with your salty tears, so they become one, and you know longer now how terrified you are. You stay in the shower like this for a bit, letting the warmth and steam wiggle your body from its stone encapsulation.

You can hear the familiar jingle of your phone ringing from where you had haphazardly left it, and the memory of today's dinner comes rushing in. You had nearly forgotten, and whilst you were terrified to leave your home and go back into the hallway where it had happened, you couldn't let Carmen down.

So you had gotten up, in the same way you had fallen down, and tried to scrub away the smell of his day-old cigarettes and sweat until your skin burned, poking your head through a clean shirt and a skirt that hid the painful purple splotch that had begun to spread across your side.

Entering your quaint kitchen, you can’t stop your arm as it reaches for the brown liquid stored in that old glass bottle Sugar had told you was a century old. You didn't have a little liquid courage to make it past your goddamn threshold.

You downed it in a gulp, reaching for your bag and a pocket knife, just in case. The reality of that decision broke you a little, when did you start needing to armour yourself?

Your phone buzzed from its position edged between the living room couch, it was Carmen, again, telling you he was outside. Carmen had begun to ceremoniously show up to your apartment as the autumn had begun to bleed into the winter nights, and the sunlight had stretched until darkness hit by 5 in the afternoon. Any other time you would have chastised him till the point where he would stop, but now, with the reality of your neighbour, you felt a relief wash through your body at the thought of being close to him. You also don’t doubt he would have shown up anyway, ignoring your requests in the way he does when he thinks it's his responsibility.

You wouldnt say you had a lot of experience in relationships under your belt, but something spoke to you from within, carmen was something special, this was special, sacred in the way destiny was, and you shooke with the relentless fear of fucking it up. And scaring him away with your problems seemed to be on the very top of that list

You shake the thought from your head as you shut the door quietly, take a brisk pace as you walk but kind of run to the elevator. A neighbour you knew well stood near the doors, his dark auburn hair falling in front of his eyes, he nodded to you with a silent smile. He kept to himself most of the time, and you didn't know much about him, just that he always was tugging a sleeve down his left arm, but he always went out of his way to give you some sort of greeting.

The air between you was silent, as you were waiting for the ping of the elevator to drop to your door, and you heard a shuffling near you, your eyes watching the way he coughed and stared at you from the corner of your peripheral vision.

“Heard something out in the hallway, it wasn’t him again was it?” The man replied, concerned about lacing his features as his eyes seemed to be fixated on the way you leaned on one side of your body a little.

“Uh no, it’s- it’s alright, I guess it was my dues you know? Dealing with a shitty neighbour at least once” You reply with a tight smile, trying to poke fun at the very depressing thought.

The man nodded with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, your neighbours had known that he was loud, knew that you had dealt the worst of it being right above him, but they were clueless to his taunts and threats that he said into your door at night. You think the man next to you had an idea though, the way his eyes scanned anything like he was always assessing, always calculating the world around him. 

It was also because your neighbour was nowhere to be found whenever he was around, you whispered a prayer of thanks that he was taking the elevator down with you, with his sweatpants and top, it was like he knew, a silent nod of protection.

Before you could open your mouth to whisper a thanks, the doors of the elevator had opened, a tired mom and her two energetic kids passed between you both. It was funny, you could see yourself in her, the drag of dark circles and the hunch of her shoulders mirroring your own. 

You knew the very shakily painted on makeup did little to hide the exhaustion on your face and you rushed to enter the elevator to escape the thought. The motion of the elevator moving down nauseated you a little, churning your stomach in the way it always did with motion, but your apartment wasn’t big and soon enough the music of the elevator turned to a halt as the doors opened up to the ground floor.

You could see the headlights of Carmen's car through the automatic doors of your complex, and you gave your neighbour a smile before rushing to jump into the comfort of Carmen and his very, very warm car.

-- -

The car ride to the beef has been silent, just the syrupy beat of jazz from the car speakers and the burn of Carmen’s gaze searing a hole through you, you feared if you caught his eyes and the look in them the entire interaction today would tumble from your tongue.

You couldn’t ruin today, it was tradition, you had just begun to become folded into it. The joy of Tina calling your name for a hug, the talks about the new pastry ideas with Marcus, Sydney’s laughter, it soothes you like a balm, and you were sure the nausea crawling through your stomach would dissipate the second you entered.

But it didn’t, the beautiful lantern lights from outside the Beef glittered against the Chicago moonlight and the smell of Italian meatballs engulfed your senses and you still felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside.

You had said your hellos to everyone, biting back a yelp as Tina’s hand pressed against the bruise on your side, and nodding to Richie’s rambles whilst you felt outside of your own skin.

Your mind kept replaying the scene of him lunging st you, bristling your skin till goosebumps spread through, until your mind was exhausted from fear and well, fucking exhaustion and Carmen had to call your name too many times to rip you from your thoughts.

“Hey, you alright?” Carmen asks with that soft honey tone he keeps for you.

You nod with a smile, and Carmen’s eyes shift towards your plate untouched. It was your favourite, a twist on Osso Buco and yet it laid un moving, Carmen knew it, you did too, and you held back tears as Carmen simply nodded, not sure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

It was the first lick of the start of something, the both of you, the bloom of a companionship Carmen felt was destined, like it was seared into the sand years before you both had even come into existence. And Carmen was new to this, and that opened up a whole can of worms, he didn’t want to fuck it up, he didn’t want to think about fucking it up, but god did he always seem to fuck it up.

You reached across the table to grab the jar of water, your shirt riding up without you noticing. Tina’s eyes widen at the peek of a purple imprint from under your shirt and she has nearly drops her fucking fork

“Baby? What happened to your side?” Tina replies with concern, her voice is quiet but the tables loud boisterous conversations begin to slow down.

You tug your shirt down, and you burn with guilt like you had been caught with this big secret. Carmen immediately looks towards your side, his eyes scanning the way you since a little as your finger brushes against it.

“Nothing, uh um I fell” You don't even believe yourself

“That looks more than something you get tripping over your feet darling, did something happen?”

“What? What’s she saying honey? What did you see Tina?” Tina’s gaze flutters to Carmen, and there’s a pause like she’s assessing whether it was Carmen’s doing before the reality of who he is hits her. It was ingrained in every woman, and Carmen wouldn’t be an exception. Even for a second.

“Looks like someone’s goddam fist imprinted into her skin” 

The restaurant is completely quiet now, and your head falls to your uneaten plate of veal, they look towards you in concern hearing the end of Tina’s words.

Carmen lifts your shirt, and you don’t stop him, the reality of your attack is shown right there in front of him, the imprint of a large hand bruising purple and blue.

Carmen’s eyes burn into the skin, his fists shaking as he remains silent, the rest of the family look on in horror, whispers of “holy fuck?” and eyes seeing the way Carmen practically vibrates, like he’s a second away from exploding.

“..Who did this?”

“It was my fault- I”

“Who did this baby? Who hurt you?” Carmen replies with an exhaled murmur.

“I’m, uh, Uhm- he- oh Carmen” You can’t get the words out, they’re stuck in your throat and you can’t get them out. You feel trapped, your body is sweating like you’re caged, like you're wading through a current and you're losing yourself to the weight of it, your breakdown on display for the whole world to see.

You blink back tears as Carmen tilts your chin to face him, and the look on his face, the look of distraught and fear that blossoms across his features un tetheres the tightly wrapped self control you had formed.

And Carmen scoops you up into his arms so that the entire family doesn’t have to see you break into his shoulder.

His soothing words are like a balm to your distress and he walks you, bridal style to the first aid cabinet, sitting you down on the counter, wiping away your tears as his fingers shake and his throat bobs with a tight swallow. He hastily tugs your shirt, kissing back the howls of pain as he whispers “I know, I know baby girl, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.”

His soft fingers press gently against the bruise as he rubs a heating ointment across it, he wraps a warm compress around it as bandage and his eyes are avoiding your own as he focuses his fingers on your skin.

“Carmen?” You whisper, the hiccups of tears resounding from your throat, Carmen reaches for a painkiller, placing it in your palm with a whisper of affirmation, he gently tips your head back as he pours water into your mouth, and you swallow it quickly, before looking back at him.

“Carmen? Please” You reply, had you done it, had you ruined everything?

“I can’t look at you because I fear I might break, and- and I can’t right now okay darling? I have to find, I have to find who did this, and I need to make it right, hm? I need to make sure your safe because god my heart is outside of my chest and I can’t feel anything but fear” Carmen replies with a tight low voice, his fists shake as he pressed them into the counter beside your thighs, but he looks up to meet your gaze anyway, and he smiles tightly as the tears stream down.

“Oh Carmen, this isn't on you, you couldn't have possibly known” You reply, wiping a hand across his cheeks.

“How can you say that? I am your, I am meant to protect you, and you, you come limping in without me noticing, fucking Tina saw it before I could, and i hate myself for it” Carmen replies, his cerulean blues shining bright against the shine of tears.

“Who did this, someone at work? A guy on the street?” Carmen replies and you flick away from his gaze, hand falling to your lap as your tongue burns with the desire to just say it all.

“You've got to tell me baby girl, you have to know I've got to make it right, I won’t sleep till I do. '' Carmen replies with a pained cry, like his heart is breaking from the thought of letting this go un avenged. And it's the tortured look on his face, it's the shake of his limbs like he wants to destroy and burn the entire world around him till he finds whoever has done this that uncurls your tongue and lets everything out in the open.

“What? This has been going on for months? Why didn’t you tell me?” Carmen replies, his thumb rubbing soft circles across your thigh.

“Didn’t want to scare you away Carmen, i love-i I like you a lot, more than I have anyone and I didn't want to fuck it up and unload all my problems onto you like a dumpster” You reply, and it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, and when Carmen looks up at you in disbelieved confusion.

“Huh? Oh sweet girl, I’m meant to help you bear it all, that’s why I'm here, and the idea of you thinking I'll love you any less, that I won't help you because of something like this haunts me. I’m meant to protect you yeah? That’s my fucking job, and I’ve failed it” Carmen replies with a grunt.

“No one has said anything like that to me” You say, eyes looking up to him, you weren't shocked, but you weren't, were not shocked, never had you experienced this, this burning adoration for another person, this soft warmth that burst through you at the sound of Carmen's voice promising his devotion, promising his unyielding protection. It armoured you more than a pocket knife ever could.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to your head, before shuffling around the kitchen, walking back into the dining tables, hushing out replies of ‘she's okay’ before coming back in with your things under his arm.

“What are you doing?” You reply in question, as he slowly picks you up with an arm, and gently places you back down. His eyes are constantly flickering to your side, like he’s torturing himself with the image of the first time he saw the horrific bruise across your side.

He had never felt true fear until then, the shatter of his heart beneath his breast as he realises you had gotten hurt and he didn't even fucking realise. Nothing had mattered but your safety and he scared himself with how much his body shook with a desire to destroy the person responsible.

“I’m driving back to your apartment, where you're going to grab your necessities, whilst I pay a visit to your little neighbour downstairs. You’re staying with me, for however long,” Carmen replies with a sneer, walking you through the back door, which you were all too thankful for, you couldn't bear to see the look on the crew’s faces if you had to walk back in.

“Carmen you can’t” You reply rushed, as Carmen slid you into the passenger seat, before clicking on your seat belt for you. He cocks his head, before raising his eyebrows

“Oh, I can’t? Honey, the police don’t do their job and my baby get’s fucking hurt. Nah, that doesn't work for me” Carmen replies, before rushing to enter the driver's seat, shifting the gear into drive before speeding down the city streets. 

His focused on the road, his face unblinking and he grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white, you can’t stop looking at him, his gorgeous under the moonlight of the skies, his cheeks crimson from his tears, his cerulean blues calling to you like the sea, and the curl of his blonde hair falling like waves.

The view of your apartment complex comes into your vision as Carmen turns into the carpark in one swift move, you can’t stop the shake of your fingers and Carmen wants to slam his first into the steering wheel when he notices.

“You alright?” Carmen replies “You can stay here, I’ll grab whatever you need”

You want to stay, want to remain in the safety of his sleek tinted windows, but you want to face it too, and somehow that need is more important, he doesn’t get to win, no fucking way.

You unclip your seat belt, opening the door as you turn to him “You going to show me how you protect me or what?”

Carmen bites back a smile, god he was so fucking proud. He could tell you were scared shit less, and yet you fought through that fear, and god you mesmerised him. You were stronger than he could ever be, and he wanted to take that burden from you, carry it himself so you didn't have to.

Carmen jogs to the back of the car, reaching into the boot before the clunk of wood on gravel meets your ears. Carmen nods towards you, as he grips a bat under his arm

“He puts a bruise on you and i break all his fucking bones” Carmen replies, and you can’t stop the joy that image brings you

Carmen walks you to your apartment, waiting outside like a hawk, his bat tight against his grip as he watches the hallways, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, you feel infinitly and utterly safe.

You throw your toiletries into a bag, grabbing a few nights of clothes and your work shoes. You eyes flicker around your apartment, it had been home to you for the past 4 years, and yet it felt so foreign to you now, you had grown to attest this place, this place you had filled with so much of yourself, and you hate him so much at that moment, for making you feel this way about a place you had once loved.

You leave your apartment with the door shut closed.

Carmen carries your bag and places them back into the back seat of the car, and as he begins to walk towards the apartment of your neighbour you reach a hand out to stop him.

“Honey, I’ve got to-” Carmen begins before you shut him quickly

“I want to watch” You reply quietly, and Carmen’s eyes flicker, before lacing his fingers into yours, as you both knock on his door.

There's a grumble before the clank of a chain slides open, and his face appears as the door opens to him, you can see the illuminated light of his TV glaring, the floor covered with pizza boxes and beer cans. You see in real time, how his face morphs from anger into fear, his eyes dropping as he sees the way Carmen practically shakes, and the man isn’t able to let out a word, a protest or wail of a plea before the crack of Carmen's wooden bat swings through the air.

-- -

“Are you sure he isn't dead?” You reply, as you dip a washcloth into warm water, wiping away the blood across Carmen’s neck

“He isn’t going to die if I wasn’t the one causing it, besides, if he does, that’s God finishing off the rest of it”. Carmen replies, raising his face so that you cleaned the last of the streaks of blood splattered across his jaw.

Carmen reaches for your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of them as he looks at you in that way like he yearns for you to be closer. 

“You need sleep, but first you need to eat, yeah?” Carmen replies, shushing your protests and he carries you to his room in his arms, after he notices the exhaustion in your limbs. It’s dark, illuminated only by the wall to ceiling windows that look into the busy city streets and light up sky scrapers. 

The sheets are strewn across the bed, haphazard like Carmen had rushed to get them off of him in the early mornings. Carmen slides you into them, tucking you within the soft pillowy blanket, sitting on the edge as he caresses your cheek softly.

He leaves for a moment, rushing to make you something to eat, his skin crawling with a need to feel you against him, nearly tripping over himself as he walks back into his room with a bowl of soup and a bottle of water.

Carmen sits next to you again, pressing spoonfuls of soup into your mouth and wiping the edges ceremoniously as you rest against the headboard half asleep. 

You don’t notice the way he looks at you, like he's trying to memorise every dip and curve of your face, his fingers clutching the spoon tight like he’s going to break if he doesn't hold you against him.

“Honey?” Carmen replies hushed

“Hmh?” You reply, your eyes heavy as the comfort of Carmen's warmth spreads through you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, you tell me everything okay? Everything” Carmen replies pained, like the events that transpired somehow still were not resolved, like breaking the man's legs wasn't enough for him.

“Okay” You reply, and Carmen places the dishes onto the bedside table, leaving it to the morning because he can't keep you away from him any longer.

Carmen joins you in the bed, the left side of his bed finally taken by somebody for the first time in a long time. Tugging you against him, Carmen curls your body to lay against his chest, his fingers softly gracing your back, soft circles that had begun to lull you to a sleep you hadn’t felt in months, years even.

The beat of Carmen's heart joins with yours, together and entwined like how it was always meant to be, why had Carmen waited so long? Why had he let time pass without you tucked under him, safe within his arms and away from all the horrors of the world.

It’s only when Carmen notices the shift in your breathing, falling into a soft exhale before he even lets the whispers of sleep grip him within its grasps, his shoulders finally release from its tensed state once he knows you've finally fallen into a sleep that had been kept from you.

“You don’t know how much I love you baby girl, it fucking scares me, but I’ll keep reminding you until infinity if I have to, until you know it deep down like I do” Carmen mumbles out, his eyes falling heavy and you grips you against his chest.

You don’t really know how, but even between the state of sleep and consciousness, you hear him, and you whisper between the space in your bodies, that you already do.

[bananadramaaa]

Idk if you’ve got any ideas or backstory for Alastor’s sisters, but I love the designs for them and have kind of taken some ideas about them and ran with it, mostly about the eldest, Adeline, though:

• Adelice was definitely a protector of the whole bunch. Alastor helped protect the younger sisters and worried a lot about his older sister, but Adelice would make a target out of herself to make sure the younger kids faced as little of their father’s bad days as possible.

• Leonore and Bertilda (the younger two) still experience a lot of the family drama, but it’s a little less than what their older siblings do since they try to keep them out of the fire, so while the older two seem to mature way too quickly, the younger two stay kids for a bit longer. This, however does piss off their father, who takes every moment to ridicule them on their inability to act like their older siblings when their older siblings aren’t able to keep them out of the fire.

• Adelice also gives off Tiana from Princess and the Frog vibes. She’s got a Dream and she’s gonna work hard every day to make it happen.

• Alastor Worries™️ and thinks she’s pushing herself too much, taking on the brunt of their father’s anger, taking on so many jobs, and trying to get as much of an education as she can for as cheap as she can get it. So he becomes her Distraction, constantly dragging her off to parties and out drinking and listening to music. Anything to get her to chill tf out.

• He’s also a hypocrite though, considering he takes on a ton of “side jobs” by the time he’s 15 before he starts working in radio to try to help out their maman. He somehow manages to get all the fun jobs though. She’s out here working in restaurants and factories and he’s playing piano at the speakeasy and working at a nearby gator farm during the summers. And even the jobs that shouldn’t be fun, he manages to turn into a blast, like apprenticing at the butchers or working the graveyard shift at the cemetery. He thinks he’s so damn funny, while his bosses low-key wanna strangle him. This somehow makes him more likable as a radio host.

• Eventually, Adelice manages to find herself a nice, rich, Creole man who she and Alastor run through the wringer trying to test just how wholesome of a man he is before she’ll accept his hand in marriage. This man is confused, but he is dead set on winning her heart. He offers her the money to achieve her dream, he offers her the happy and stress-free life that New Orleans won’t afford her, he offers a life where she’s free and not trapped by anybody, himself included, and most importantly, he offers to take her whole family away from their father and the impoverished life that keeps them with him.

• Their maman can’t fathom a life without her husband, but she can see why they’d want to leave.

• Alastor doesn’t want to lose his sisters, but he knows someone has to watch out for their maman and he’s far to attached to New Orleans to leave it now.

• Before all his sisters leave, Adelice jokingly says she’s gonna name a son after him and he politely declines the offer.

• They move to Alabama or something and he never sees them again, but Adelice has a bunch of happy children that she loves who know all about him :)

• Bertilda also gets married, but Bertilda and her husband find themselves unable to have kids so they adopt a cute little red-headed girl and her green-eyed little brother.

• Leonore dates a lot of people before she finds the perfect gal for her and they move in together as “friends.” Their maman was a bit progressive in some ways and taught them not to judge, where most others would do when Adelice and Bertilda don’t make a big deal out of it when they find out about it.

• All three of them keep an eye on the news regarding New Orleans and whatever can be said about their famous radio host brother from far away.

• The only times the lot of them return to New Orleans is when they hear about Alastor’s death and their maman’s death.

I've talked briefly about them in this ask :3 And I really enjoyed reading your version of their story. It seems more wholesome compared to what I have in mind for them (like Adelice definitely won in this one) XD

[peace-for-levi]

Welcome Back

lol hiiiii, sorta haven't written in *checks watch* eight months so i am RUSTY.

cw: feelings of grief, graphic descriptions of dissociation, reader feeling disconnected and needing to be grounded. post-expedition hurt-comfort is my fav genre, lol.

word count: 1447.

taglist: @levmada @jayteacups @happybird16 @theferricfox @sckerman @wortverlust @lostinwildflowers @pockcock @nelapanela94 @notgoodforlife @unadulteratedtreecrusade @starstruckkittensweets

Arms up. Arms down.

Grief anchors and weighs you down like a ball and chain. It's heavy, cumbersome and you are left to just bear the brunt of it. It has a way of removing you from the world, leaving you unable (even unwilling) to reconnect. The most recent expedition and the deaths that came with it weigh down on your shoulders. You lean over, back hunched. Neck tense.

Distantly, you recognise what it is you are feeling (or lack of.) Distantly, you recognise the expedition has probably sent you into this state.

Your vision is 'stretched', or distorted, and everything has a dull fuzz to it. You're sure if you reached to grab the book on your bedside locker, it would slip through your fingers and melt away.

And that you'd wake up from this.

You form a fist and relax it, stretching your fingers. Lines on your fingers; oh, five fingers, all with fingernails. Five sets of knuckles. These are your hands? Surely, right?

You form a fist and this time you squeeze, and you almost feel your nails sink in. Just slightly but it's enough for you to shudder. In realization? In pain?

It's not unusual for your mind to be stuck out in the plains beyond the Walls. The boom and echo of flares rattles in your ears, the screams of your comrades leaves your head spinning. The idea of being back in your bedroom is just something you haven't registered yet, too busy stuck somewhere between a nightmare and reality.

A fake, shadowy middle of unreality.

It's nauseating, harrowing. If not for your feet pressed to the floor and your calves backed to the edge of the bed frame, you'd have a hard time trusting gravity in keeping you down.

There's a voice in the foreground, but you're not quite there yet. Their speech is fragmented.

You cling to reason; to routine and actions. You try to cling to dialogue and even though you understand the words, they don't get processed. You try to attune to the conversation, however one-way it is.

"Your shoulders tense up when you get like this. Relax."

Shoulders… ah, your shoulders? So you roll them. You don't really know what else to do. Tense? Why are you tense and what–

…

What are you…?

Where…?

Levi senses he's losing you further here, so he gives you an order. A command; you can latch onto that. It'll give your brain something to do, long enough to take you away from the plains.

"Legs out. I'll undo your buckles," he says as he kneels between your legs.

Leg up, straighten, leg down.

Same idea again for your left.

The frigid air against your – now – bare skin makes you shiver. Your clothes are being taken off, piece by piece.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Do you know…?" is a question that he noticed that also makes you come back to your senses. He has asked a question that requires a logical answer; you need to go searching for clues.

You know it's your bedroom – what else could it possibly be? – but it just looks so… wrong. In a moment of faint realization, you feel the night's gentle breeze prick the skin on your legs. You turn to the bedside locker and see a bowl of lumpy, congealed soup with a bread roll that looks like it's on the verge of going bad. You must have forgotten to eat it. There's an oil lamp next to the soup, as well as an old book. Reading is a bit too hard at the moment; you can hardly put together the title of the book.

Now you look in front of you. Of course the black hair and grey eyes belong to your lover, but he didn't look so real right now. If you reached out to touch him, would you feel the black tresses spill between your fingers? The war-torn hands clasp your own?

You sink your fingertips into his scalp. He lets it happen, lets you cling to him. He doesn't even flinch, he knows you need grounding. He brings a hand up and rests it on yours, as if to say…

Feel me.

I am alive. You are alive. We are both here, and you will not wake up from this.

(Your brain just needs a lot of convincing.)

He squeezes his hand over yours. "You're getting ready for a bath, I'm helping you," he states. More information to cling to. "Whatever you're feeling, let it be there."

He is slowly walking you to your ensuite. The ground beneath your feet felt soft, even for oak planks. You fumble as you walk, second-guessing your surroundings, but Levi's got you.

He's always there.

The boundaries of the room appear elusive and murky, as you reach out for the skirting on the sides of the bathroom door. Levi was smart and had the bath ready to go, warm water prepped. With a cupped palm, he gently guides you into the bath.

"Step in."

A command to follow.

Leg up, over, and sit.

You soak into the heated water and sit down. You vaguely feel the suds cling to you. The aware part of you hopes they'll wash away the muddy feeling.

Levi begins to fill up a bucket of the sudsy water. He takes a look at your toned back, marred with grime, dirt and caked blood, and stops. He thumbs over some of the rougher sores and tears; some of these scars have been there for years. Shades of purples and blacks and reds, dotting the surface; all serving as a horrific reminder that, so far, you have made it back home every time.

You watch the dirt drip down and swirl in the water, floating there.

Silence permeates between the two of you, and normally, it is a comfortable silence. But Levi wanted to check in.

"How are you doing now, [F/n]?"

Blink. You stare back at him with pupils blown, looking at everything and nothing. "Fine."

"Do you know who I am?" He asks, carefully, scrubbing your shoulders.

Black hair, grey eyes. "Levi…" you murmur.

He nods. Should he press further? He's not sure.

Dissociation is a fickle defense mechanism with a hair-trigger temperament. It can be the deaths of the comrades in your most recent expedition; it could also be triggered by the smell or sound that reminds you of something unpleasant. It sometimes comes when it wants and Levi learned the best way to deal with it was to not deal with it. To let it happen, and sit beside you as it does.

"Don't fight it. Let it be there."

But you don't want it to be there. You stretch out your palm and reach for the towel, but you just hold it. Maybe for comfort, maybe to feel a texture. You register the caked blood by your cuticles and you keep it in your mind's eye for a second, but your vision starts to splinter again.

"But it feels awful…" you find yourself saying. "I hate not recognising my surroundings, I hate not–"

He cuts in. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He takes hold of your hand and squeezes. "I know." He assures.

Because he does.

He's sat with you through every episode of this.

He guides you out of the bath when you're done, and dresses you in your nightgown. He sweeps your hair up and out of your face, before cupping your cheeks. You practically fall into his hands. He pats your cheek in response.

"You back with me yet?"

You shake your head, but your answers are coming out quicker now. He steers you with one hand on the small of your back and peels back the comforter.

As the room gets shrouded in darkness, you're pulled to his chest. A smell of cedar and black tea, the thrum of his pulse and the rise and fall of his chest. Small circles being etched into your hips by his thumb.

"We're going to try to rest now." He tells you.

A command of sorts, something to stick to.

Get in bed, lie down, and breathe.

"Yes, okay," you mumble as you twiddle your thumbs. "Okay."

He pulls you impossibly closer, nose in the crook of your neck and suddenly... you're in the clear.

"I'm [F/n]. I'm in my room. I'm with Levi…" you whisper to yourself, with confidence.

"Welcome back," your lover sleepily replies.

{friendly reminder acceptance doesn't work for everyone but it is a healthy start for some!}

[mrspockify]

What if the roles had been reversed? What if his daughter got hurt instead. What if she took the hit for her Uncle Luigi knowing just how important and and he is to her father. Just like she understands how important her siblings are to her, being the oldest, and how the guilt of seeing one of them get hurt would eat at her, and she knows it would her father to, to see his twin in so much pain, knowing he couldn’t save both of them.

Her father always taught that family is the most important thing and she would risk getting hurt if it meant she didn’t lose or see her uncle get or her father lose or see his other half get hurt.

So for her father and uncle’s sake, she takes the hit, nothing too severe but long enough for her to be unconscious for a bit, a scar or two. She may have taken the hit but Luigi jumped in last second to prevent it from being anything life threatening for either of them

Imagine the guilt Mario would feel, hell Luigi would feel the brunt of it all as she took a hit he knew he could take but she saved him anyway. Guilt and anger at himself. Would Mario be angry at him? Is he even able to, knowing how deeply close they were? Would they fight? Would Luigi try to apologize or maybe close himself off, would he even be able to look his dear brother in the eye, with his guilt being so unbearable?

What would Mario do? What could he do? Caught between a rock and a hard place? Is he angry at himself? Luigi, for not protecting his daughter, his daughter for not taking such a hit when she was still so very young?

Mia is very much like her father, and so I can definitely see a self-sacrificial streak making itself known, especially if it means keeping her family safe. She doesn't even think first, doesn't register that she is obviously much more vulnerable than either her father or uncle.

Luigi would be a nervous wreck. He would be eaten alive by guilt, and deep down absolutely terrified that Mario would blame him for what happened. There wouldn't be enough apologies in the world to ease how he felt.

For Mario, I think this would be another rare instance where he let's his own emotions get the best of him, and accidentally let's it bleed out and hurt his loved ones. He's completely terrified, and seeing his unconscious daughter after she gets hit (the brief terror he felt when he wasn't even sure if she was alive) does something irreparable to him. He takes it out on everyone, snapping at Luigi every time he tries to apologize, lashing out at Peach when she tries to tell him she understands (she doesn't, she wasn't there, she didn't see how still their daughter was).

Worst of all, he takes it out on Mia. It starts as a tense lecture, but when Mia cuts in and tries to defend her actions he just loses it. He starts getting heated, demanding why she would ever think that was okay, telling her what a stupid decision that was, threatening things he would never normally threaten (you're never allowed out of sight again, you're never leaving the castle unattended, etc.). It ends abruptly after he leans in, hands so close to her face while he signs that she can feel the air stir, and he asks Are you trying to get yourself killed? Are you trying to kill me?

She bursts into tears, and he realizes suddenly, as she flinches away, that she's scared of him. Obviously he would change tactics immediately and hurry to reassure her and apologize. He’d have to explain that he’s not really mad at her, he’s just terrified about losing her. It’s his and Luigi’s job to take care of her, not the other way around. He just wants her to understand that.

[schrodingers-romy]

The Dollmaker [Douma x Reader]

Pairing: Douma x fem!reader

Summary: You are a dollmaker; you follow your friend to the Eternal Paradise Cult and are fascinated by its leader, a man who looks much like the dolls you make...

Warnings: ehhh blood? mention of consuming human flesh? honestly below canon typical level.

Word count: ~2,000

Notes: Uh hey yeah so this is the first thing I've really written in a while (aside from brainstorming stuff). I wrote it last night in one manic sitting. I let it languish for a bit, then went back and re-read it. Honestly can't tell if it's good. But I did have fun writing it! So. Debated posting but I figured someone might like it? Idk. Minimally edited as well so read at your own risk ig. *crawls back under my rock*.

[Edit: Ao3 link]

You’re not a religious person. You suppose you might believe in spirits; it’s hard to be a doll maker like yourself and not have some belief in them. But Gods? Prayers? You can’t understand it.

But it’s your disbelief that prompts you to follow your friend to the Eternal Paradise cult. You worry about her; she’s always been the more gullible out of you two, and her family encouraged her belief in gods. The cult is probably just a scam, and you know you need to be there to shield your friend from the worst of the consequences. So, you pass your work off to one of your employees and follow her up to the temple on the mountain.

You feel a sense of foreboding once you enter the temple. The cultists are all dressed similarly; most are women, and young ones at that. You know the cult was primarily marketed towards these people, but it still raises your hackles. You know the cult leader is a man, and these are the people men like to take advantage of the most. You don’t want to be here, but you’re glad you didn’t let your friend go on her own.

It is apparently a slow day within the cult, as you only wait in the bustling reception room for what feels like a few minutes before one of the women tells you that the leader is ready to see you now. She asks if you’d like to go separately; you say no. She nods demurely back, and motions towards the doors.

Once you enter, your eyes are immediately drawn to the man lounging on the platform at the far end of the room. You can’t look away from him.

He smiles, almost benevolently at you two, but it doesn’t reach his multicolored eyes. “Welcome! I am Dōma; what seems to be troubling you, my dears?”

Your friend speaks up, but you tune her out. You’ve already borne the brunt of listening to her problems; you use the time instead to study this Dōma.

He seems so animated. He smiles, his face twists into something sympathetic, understanding. And yet nothing seems to reach his eyes.

As you watch him lift an elegant, pale hand to make a gesture, you realize something. He reminds you of some of your dolls.

He was like a puppet. Crafted lovingly, painstakingly to look like the mirror image of a true human. Skilled hands could make the doll, and skilled hands could manipulate its face and body parts to look human-like. But in the end, the glass eyes of the doll held no emotion, no life. The same was true of Dōma.

You wonder if that’s what it means to be a prophet for the gods. If he’s simply a divine puppet, moved by invisible puppeteers. If an unimaginable being crafted his eyes to be so doll-like, inhuman. Maybe that was how they marked him as other. It would make sense; you’ve never seen eyes like that on anyone else.

You try to listen to what he says. It’s hard, when you keep losing the thread of conversation in favor of watching flashes of sharp, perfect teeth that shine whenever he opens his mouth.

It’s all meaningless platitudes, anyway. Hardly different from what other religious people would say. You take back your assumption about him being a divine puppet. There is no holy wisdom in this man, in this doll.

It makes you wonder who then is puppeteering him if not the gods. Is he simply a spirit, locked in an unnatural body? Who created such a lifelike vessel? For what purpose? To make something, so close to humanity, and yet so far….such craftsmanship you could only dream of achieving with your own dolls.

You get the strange urge to break him open. You wonder what he’s made of, what he looks like on the inside. How was such a thing made?

You are broken out of your haze once he turns to you.

“And you? Why did you come to me?” his eyes are piercing, for glass. You've never seen a doll with eyes so alive, so you waver a moment. Maybe he is a real person? But you’ve never seen a person with eyes so void of true feeling.

You swallow thickly. Your throat is dry. You almost spill your thoughts, and ask him if he is a doll. You stop yourself, thankfully, and stutter out the true response. “I came to be with her. To make sure she was safe.”

He rests his chin on one hand, eyes never leaving you. “Did you think I would hurt her?”

Your friend tries to cut in with a hasty apology on your behalf. You cut her off. “The way up the mountain can be treacherous. What makes you think I was thinking of you?”

He tilts his head in easy acquiescence. “But you were. Don’t worry though! I won’t hurt her!” He gives you a bright smile, and you marvel at the workmanship that must have gone into making him smile so naturally.

You don’t speak, again, only nodding your goodbye to him as you and your friend exit the room.

She almost speaks to you, but something on your face must discourage her. Instead, she asks on of the many cult members bustling around if you two could stay the night.

You are placed in a single room, with two futons. Your friend lies down immediately, making some offhand comments about being exhausted after your journey, and how nervous she felt talking to Dōma. You only half listen to her. Your mind lingers on Dōma, on the living doll this cult calls their leader. You feel more focused on him than you’ve ever felt about anything. There’s something about him that pulls you in.

Even as you lay to sleep, your mind doesn’t stop. You’re so sure he must be a doll, a puppet. Someone who moves like him can’t be human. 

But there is a niggling doubt. Maybe you’re wrong? Maybe this is just what cult leaders look like. Unnatural beauty that draws people in like scavengers to a corpse.

Well, you think to yourself. Only one way to find out.

You get up. Your friend is sound asleep. She has had a long day. You leave her behind as you pad along the vast corridors of the temple. You don’t know where you’re going, but your feet are trying to lead you somewhere, and you let them.

The first door you open is his bedroom door. Surprisingly, he has no guard of any sort. It seems distressingly easy to access him. You would think someone so special and unique that they had their own cult would be worth enough to guard.

But all the better for you, you suppose. You creep farther into his room, until you loom over his futon.

He almost looks more doll-like now. His face is blank with sleep, but it seems less like sleep and more like death. But puppets don’t die; they do lose life, but that’s only when the humans who breathe life into them leave.

Now, he is simply a puppet without a master.

You kneel gently on the futon. He doesn’t even seem to breathe. Another point for the doll theory. You have almost no misgivings now.

You reach out, and brush your fingertips across his cheek. His skin is flawlessly smooth, and icy cold. No living being is that cold.

You trail your hand up to his hair. Its absurdly soft, like silk. You use silk for the hair on some of your dolls as well, but it’s never felt quite that soft.

You didn’t notice before, but there is some sort of stain on the top of his hair. It was mostly hidden under his hat before, but now it is clear. It looks like someone spilled paint on him. It would be seen as a defect on something otherwise so faultless, but even that looks intentional, no drip out of place.

As you study him, you inch closer. You’re basically straddling him now, but you don’t pay much attention to that. Instead, you let your eyes roam over him again. His hands are similarly perfect, with blue nails filled to a point on every finger. You pick up one of his hands to observe them better. You hiss as one of your fingertips catches on his nail. They’re like knives, easily splitting your flesh.

You bring your cut finger up to your mouth, ready to suck away the blood beading on it.

Quick as lighting, a hand grips your wrist. You freeze, shocked, and look up, right into Dōma’s stained glass eyes. You try to pull away, but his grip is as firm as stone. His other hand grips at your hip. You can almost feel his claws through your kimono.

“Now, what do we have here?” he says, his voice a purr. There’s no trace of sleepiness in his tone, and no trace of haziness in his eyes.

Instead, you’re the one who feels sluggish. You gape at him, not saying a word.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head almost like a disappointed mother. But his expression is not motherly at all. It’s mocking, with some sort of hunger beneath it. You think that hunger is the most emotion you’ve ever seen in his eyes. “Now, what were you doing here, in my bed, in the middle of the night, darling?”

You flush at the implication. You’re silent a moment, unsure what to say. You’re not even quite sure yourself why you’re there. You try to answer honestly anyway. “I’m not sure.”

He raises an eyebrow, wordlessly prompting you to elaborate.

Words flood out of you. “I just had to see you again! I don’t quite know why…I think I just want to know what you are. Because I know you aren’t human.”

“What am I, then?”

“You remind me of a doll. I make them. And you look like the dolls I make. You’re meant to look human, but you’re not, not really. Something is just…off. You’re almost too perfect…your skin, your hair, your eyes…no human looks like that. No human behaves like you either...your eyes are like glass. So, so beautiful, yet...they don’t portray the emotion your body tries to make.”

He seems little surprised for a second. He studies you more keenly now. “Well…I can’t say you’re totally wrong.” He smiles, but this time it’s different. It’s more a baring of teeth. You can see now he truly has fangs. He has the mouth of a predator. “I’m not human. But I’m not a doll either, silly girl!”

He pulls you closer, and sits up, until you two are pressed almost chest to chest. Your wrist, still in his hand, is tugged until your bloody finger is pressed to his lips.

“Do you want to know what I am?” he whispers, voice low. His lips move against your finger, smearing your blood on them, tinting them red.

You feel your heart beating faster. You can’t tell if it’s fear or excitement. Your brain feels fuzzy, like you’re drunk. Intoxicated.

You nod.

His tongue stretches out, lapping your blood away from your skin. You shiver.

He releases your hand, but pulls you even closer. His bloody mouth is pressed to your ear. You’re paralyzed, heart thudding, pulsing so hard now you can hear it.

“I’m a demon,” he murmurs, icy breath caressing your ear. And then without warning, he pulls aside your kimono and bites deep into your shoulder.

You gasp, a shaky broken thing. His fangs easily slice through your skin. Your blood pours into his mouth, and he moans.

He pulls away. “You taste so good…”

“Don’t eat me. Please!” you’re crying now, tears dripping down your face; from fear more than pain. You’ve heard stories of demons. You know what they do to people.

“Oh, no, darling. You misunderstand.” He clutches you close. He does it lightly, but you can feel he could crush you without a thought if he wanted. “You’re too intriguing to kill. As long as you keep your pretty mouth shut, I don’t have to do anything! I have plenty of other disciples to feed on. I never go hungry.”

So that’s why he has the cult. It’s like a farm; raising animals for food.

But as long as you’re not the one going to slaughter…

You sniffle. “Don’t eat my friend either…”

“OK, sweetheart. She can be safe as well, as long as she doesn’t get too nosy…”

You feel a rush of relief. You’ve never been more grateful for your friend’s naivete. It will keep her alive, now.

“But…what will you do with me?”

“Hmm…I want to keep you with me! You’re interesting. And life is dreadfully dull sometimes. I need something…someone special. To make existence less boring. And I think you could be that person.” He smiles at you. It feels more real now, less plastic. You could almost imagine you saw a flicker of real emotion in his eyes.

You’re exhausted. And you understand, a bit. Life is dull for you as well; often you wake up only to go through the motions of the day, with nothing to look forward to. Then you go back to bed, and repeat the cycle.

The interest you felt in Dōma, though sickeningly manic, obsessive, was a feeling you’d been craving for years. Finally, you felt something strongly again. Even when you were scared out of your mind, thinking you would be eaten… it was better than feeling numb.

“Okay,” you say. Your head drops onto his shoulder, hiding your face. “I’ll stay with you.”

He shivers, and his arms tighten around you. “Thank you, my darling.” His mouth returns to the sluggishly bleeding wound on your shoulder, licking up the blood like a cat does milk. It hurts, still, but you think you could get used to it. At least when you can feel his tongue soothing the ache.

[astvrook]

gortenzi | jake

genre/au: yandere x reader.

They blessed Jake with the beauty of Apolo, a boy with a smile more beautiful than nature itself and a personality that could not be shaken. With his flawless face, unusually dyed blond hair, and brown eyes, he was a prince. One would never guess that behind the calm and the pretty facade was a perverted plot of revenge.

Seeing you introduce yourself to your fiancé's family and him, his cousin-brother lights a fire in his eyes and things get out of control.

You were the next ticket to ambition and destroy the success the Shim's were competing with.

"You're a fascinating little thing. Would you like a stroll, sister-in-law?"

Jake, the predator and master manipulator he was, encouraged you to breathe easily when he was around or risk losing your composure. Your heart inevitably roared as you read and watched his questionable dealings with you and witnessed firsthand what destructive and repulsively ambitious men like him were.

"You keep giving me excuse after excuse why I can't call you or see you, (y/n). So, sister-in-law, I've paid you a visit to make sure the wedding plans are going well and to take off some… business while I'm here. Your stress, for example."

Jake provokes that any feelings of affection that belonged to his cousin-brother were torn down by this boy's walls, which stood firm in his life until love and devotion were nothing more than feelings for him that gave him all of you. That would destroy you. To your future marriage.

But for Jake, that didn't mean he would ruin his plans for you, fight with your fiancé, blame others, and be selfish. But maybe, maybe he trusted you with everything the world doesn't see in him.

"We're too far apart not to be something, but I can't have you. I'm sorry, (y/n)"

When you are close to him, he makes you feel an intense and alarming emotion that wipes all rational thought and common sense from your mind, leaving you with only one conclusion: he was doomed.

But eventually, the illusion you had of the two of you shatters and the plots disguised as romance glimpse the deranged monster beneath the beautiful body of the man in your bed.

When your eyes grow cold around him, it saddens him, but he understands, even if his heart aches without knowing why.

"You're sick. When I give my word, I keep it, Jake. Focus on your life, don't let my presence ruin your plan and keep you from taking revenge."

Jake's eyes stare at the altar, seeing nothing.

I mean, he has a vivid imagination. He could have imagined you there, marrying his greatest enemy, letting his mind wander as he pictured you two kissing, achieving his little act of happiness as he put the pieces of his broken heart back together.

Twisted fear seeps into his marrow and into his bones.

"I'm a man. Not a prince, as you so clearly pointed out, (y/n). What I do is resist and do evil. I'll take the bad reputation because the reason you're here makes me think you're a bit involved in this, like me." "Fuck me, don't leave me… I fell in love with you, (y/n)"

Jake's been trying to get you out of his mind for two years, but it's like a dark, nauseating pressure lodged in his throat, the demon clinging to his ear and following him a shadow saying he lost against his blood. He lost you.

Touching you again, was like touching the hottest part of the flame, his soul, something akin to sincerity, and he couldn't escape.

"Do you mind if I don't refer to you as Mrs. Shim? Because since our story isn't the most common in the moral and religious world, I thought I found it offensive, (y/n)."

Jake brings his hand to his nostrils and takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, still there before he comes down. You'd come back. You've taken the brunt of his obsession and his heart; he can't move on without you.

"Should I do it, are you planning to hurt me (y/n)?" "It's the first time I've seen you in years, and here you are, sitting there. Impressively. But not from you. However, once you walked out of my life, it seemed to me that you'd never come back."

If he wanted to, he'd probably hurt you, he'd pierce his cousin-brother's pupils and chest, which would make it harder to forgive. But you have something that is his, something precious. Maybe your lab experts can get you a DNA test in a certain way when you found out the truth.

"If you think you should tell the truth, I'd say it's a little late." "I wonder, do you want everyone to know how twisted you really are, (y/n)? I'm not exactly the protective type, but I'll definitely do it for you and our son."

Jake licks his lower lip and watches as you wrap your hand around his fingers and return the wedding ring as he asked. No, he demanded.

Jake is capable of reddening the streets with people's blood until he gets you back.

"We have a deal, (y/n). Drop everything and come with me."

ENHYPEN MASTERLIST.

[morgueofstories]

Dark Farfadream Royalty AU

So the Dark Farfadream Royalty AU won by a landslide so I will be talking about that. Be warned this will contain some dark themes like non/con, torture, miscarriage mentions, and just Dream going through the wringer for this idea

TW mentions of rape, miscarriage, and torture in graphic detail read at your own risk

Farfadox is the Demon King who came out victorious in a war against the kingdom of Essempi. To not have the kingdom destroyed, the nobles agree to a list of demands the Demon King has given them, one of the demands being they give him a bride because his previous spouse died and he has no heirs to his throne.

On the final day before departure, Farfadox is handed his bride who he notices is dressed in a wedding dress too big that covers the bride completely. The bride has a veil covering their face but Farfadox can see that his bride-to-be is trembling in fear as they are pushed into the Demon King's arms, ignoring the snide remarks from the soldiers who brought him his bride, he lifts the veil covering their face to see beautiful emerald green eyes filled with tears staring back at him. His bride's face is heavily scarred but to Farfadox, his bride is one of the most beautiful people in the world he has seen

OR

Dream, Essempi's princess turned prince has been locked away in prison after his family was overthrown and executed by the NotFound family with him only being alive due to the NotFound family's son who took an interest in him. After an incident, Dream was tortured and assaulted for many years until he was given to Farfadox being told he wouldn't even survive the first night

Side Notes:

Dream is trans but he was misgendered during his imprisonment and when he is offered to Farfadox he doesn't bother trying to correct him whenever Farfadox addresses him as a 'she'

The reason why Farfadox wasn't enraged when Dream was given to him as his bride after being told Dream was a prisoner is that in demon culture it's not uncommon for their people to sometimes marry slaves; Farfadox's father was a gladiator slave before his mother married him

During his time imprisoned, Dream was impregnated against his will and had multiple kids which are Ranboo (kicked out of the house at a young age due to how 'different' he looked and now lives in the forest at the edge of a village), Connor (living in fear with his dad who is a raging alcoholic), Hannah and Tina (half-sisters who are constantly abused by their stepmother but their half-sister Sylvee tries her best to keep them safe even if it means taking the brunt of her mother's abuse) and Yogurt (who was actually the only consensual pregnancy Dream had with Fundy after Fundy was forced by his dad Wilbur to sleep with Dream)

The reason why Dream was saved from being executed was because George had seen Dream once as a kid and wanted him as his wife, so another kid was executed in Dream's place. Over the course of a year after the rebellion he gets close to Dream and when he tries to initiate sex Dream gets scared, lashes out and on accident breaks George's nose; this then leads to Dream getting raped by George, beaten by some knights who then are given permission to use him as they see fit

Before Dream is sent off to Farfadox, he is gang-raped for hours and was told he was sent off because he couldn't produce any more kids so Dream doesn't say a word to Farfadox about the assault until a couple months later he wakes up feeling nauseous and finds out he is pregnant (it's George's kid) but loses the baby a couple weeks later

Techno is Dream's Godfather and emperor of the Antartic Empire, a small kingdom. He was devastated when he heard of the rebellion and execution but he couldn't declare war as his kingdom was smaller and not as powerful compared to Essempi

Farfadox and Dream eventually work things out and Dream gets all the help he needs to fully heal and a couple years later the two have sex and eventually Dream gets pregnant with twins

My inbox is open for asks so feel free to ask me anything about this au as this is one that I've been fleshing out for a while and will publish after Wither Roses is done

[chronosh0t]

Okay but unhinged lee is so sexy to me (though the lee we got at the end of soc where he becomes the literal better version of himself is also great lee) this also does not just include the commandant (though they're the ones who bear the brunt of unhinged Lee the most bc of their death count) but the other gray ravens as well, Liv is sent to a mission where no one from their squad is involved but he has a different mission to do? Lee is annoyed but he's already creating a little buddy that will monitor Liv's vitals and surroundings for him as well as pinpointing her exact location, if Liv's vitals drop to somewhere critical or if the little buddy can no longer track her he will go to where she is regardless of protocols. Lucia needs to go with another squad to clear an area for a different mission? He's cheesing his way through his own mission before trailing not too far from where Lucia is, if he gets caught he could just say he got lost whilst on a mission himself to clear another area however he will not leave until Lucia's mission is over.

He will not loose any of them. he refuses to loose any of them, and well if anyone tries..... They'll find out the hard way how Lee cleared the tower. :]

Just an unkindness and their Vulture that will pluck anyone's eyes out if they even as much glare at them <333

Sorry for the late reply! Now, don't take me wrong, unhinged Lee is absolutely gorgeous but I think what you've pointed out is already, lowkey, happening? Lee is someone very protective of his teammates, his new family, so I won't be surprised if he actually checks on them (actually I'm sure as hell he does) because he cares, he wants them to be safe. I wouldn't call it unhinged but more of a quite overprotective boy who's tired of losing people he loves.

He's just a soft boy in reality who just want to protect, care, and create a future for them to be happy.

Now, if I take your pretty idea, I will add more spicy to the unhinged. A Lee where he wouldn't let the girls or his Commandant leave the lounge, he will keep the locked there, he will do their maintenance (which he does to Commandant) but in a more intrusive way, getting absolutely paranoid over someone else implanting unnecessary stuff, spying on them, looking at every single human or construct that gets close to them as a damn threat. He won't trust in anyone else ever again, he will also start doubting his teammates due to the same paranoia. He will do every single job.

What if Gray Raven is highly concerned about him, about his M.I.N.D getting corrupted so they try to help him. But Lee seeing others trying to help Gray Raven out, he lose it completely and hurts everyone..

[miasmaghoul]

Favorite headcanon for every ghoul! Go!

Two each, one horny and one not!

Aether

Was deeply affected by Terzo's deposition, and as a result developed a distrust of the higher-ups in the church. Sister Imperator bears the brunt of his ire. He's very protective of Copia, and his retirement was predicated on the fact that it's become obvious that he won't be Papa much longer. He can't go through that pain again.

Huge into mindfuckery. Will use his magick to manipulate his partners in many ways, some much worse than others. You'd never guess it with his sweet demeanor, but just beneath the surface lies a truly depraved individual.

Dew

Never felt comfortable as a water ghoul, so when he was presented with the opportunity to transition to fire instead he leapt at the chance. It was incredibly hard on him, but he doesn't remember much besides the pain afterwards. Once it passed, he finally felt like he was settled in his skin. Like things were finally right.

He and Aether are deeply, incomparably connected. He's not sure how it happened, or when, but it's true. Dew would do anything for Aether, and Aether for him. They push each other's boundaries behind closed doors, far beyond anything they do with the rest of the pack. The few times Dew has had to call mayday have been with Aether. He only remembers one of them - Aether made sure of it.

Rain

Fascinated by human death. Has the highest body count of all the ghouls, uses his vessel's natural charm and good looks to his advantage in that regard. Lures siblings to the lake, the woods, the mountains, whatever he's in the mood for that day. Likes to play with his food, never makes it easy on them. Lives for the moment the light fades from his prey's eyes. Has an arrangement with Sister in regards to who and how often he hunts.

The most willing to experiment when it comes to kink, has the fewest hard limits of the ghouls. Basically down to try anything twice, and has helped awaken myriad kinks in the others. His favorite partner, though, is himself. He's a narcissist through and through, no one can get Rain off like Rain can.

Swiss

Two words: shadow magick. I hc him as a fire/earth hybrid, but he carries just enough quintessence within him to manipulate shadows. To melt into them and hide in plain sight. Swiss knows many things he shouldn't because of this. Thankfully he's very good at keeping secrets.

Has a different dynamic with everyone, and holds the title of switchiest ghoul. However, it's very, very hard for him to be truly submissive. He'll follow instruction, to be sure, but he always maintains some modicum of control over himself. The only ones who have managed to get Swiss into subspace are Aether and Cirrus, and he required a LOT of aftercare.

Mountain

I am a huge proponent of Mountain being able to grow things on his body. Flowers and other small plants, nothing major. Will grow fresh herbs on his head when he cooks, and if he sleeps really well he'll wake up patchy with moss and lichen. Has a plant associated with each member of his pack, and before he got a solid hold on his magick it was very easy to tell who he was thinking about by what sprouted up around his horns. He can control it for the most part now, but in moments of emotional intensity he sometimes loses his ability to keep it in check.

The subbiest. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but literally anyone can dom Mountain. He especially loves it when the smallest ghouls put him in his place. If he's in a more dominant role, it's because his partner requested it. He just wants them to be happy, to please them. Whatever it takes.

Aeon

He's not as new as people think, summoned before the beginning of the Imperatour and living in the lower levels of the abbey with the other service ghouls. Ended up becoming Aether's lead tech in short order, thanks to being a quintessence hybrid. His other element is fire, which made it hard for him to get close with Dew at first. They get there eventually.

Has a crazy intense breeding kink, and it goes both ways. The first time he takes a knot is accidental, and it really awakens something in him.

Cirrus

Has moderate OCD, which manifests itself in excessive organization and strict scheduling. This proves to be a huge asset when it comes to planning tours, Cirrus spending a lot of her time with Copia and Sister Imperator to help put together itineraries and book hotels. She also organizes the chore sheets for the ghouls, making sure everyone is put where they fit best.

Has a very hard time climaxing, even on her own. It takes a lot of work and focus, so she doesn't really try most of the time. She gains the most pleasure from working her partners over, from providing whatever it is they need to reach that peak. Defaults to hard dom, but is somewhat flexible.

Cumulus

Has what I affectionately call grandma hobbies. She crochets, knits, does cross stitch, puts together jigsaw puzzles and bakes with regularity. Has tons of creative energy and needs outlets for it. Also leads the abbey's choir. (Cirrus plays the organ.)

Obsessed with having her tits played with. Always wants them touched, kissed, licked and sucked on. It's her favorite, and few things get her wetter. One time Dew made her cum just by toying with her nipples, and it took her by such surprise that she cried.

Sunshine

ADHD personified, always full of energy and going a thousand miles an hour. She has more control over it than she lets on, but the others enjoy her playfulness and lack of inhibitions.

Huge exhibitionist, it's nearly impossible to keep her clothed. She'll be shirtless any time she's outside, basking in her namesake. Her pants most always follow, and more often then not she can be found naked as the day she was summoned up on the abbey's roof. Loves to fuck outside so she can be as loud and feral as she likes.

Aurora

Makes jewelry for the others - matching lockets for Cirrus and Cumulus, a fine silver ring patterned after fish scales for Rain, a bronze ear cuff decorated with small leaves for Mountain, a corded crystal pendant for Sunshine, a set of jewled horn charms for Swiss. She's proudest, though, of the simple pair of thin sterling chains she made for Dew and Aether. They wear them always.

ENORMOUS size queen. She's the tiniest now, even smaller than Dew, but the first cock she took was Mountain's. Cirrus had to buy a new toy for her strap just to please Aurora's insatiable need to be stretched. It's never enough.

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesday prompt :) what if the reason Valentine made Luke a wolf was that a wronged nephilim in a parabatai bond can declare the other an oathbreaker, to trigger divine judgement, and if the judgement finds fault with the other you get back your soul piece and the other is punished? What if Alec, faced with another entitled and selfish rant, just snaps and declares Jace an oathbreaker?

okay so I couldn't figure out a way that would work like you were wanting but i did really like the idea that traditionally, a ritual with the silent brothers as a conduit to raziel is the only one allowed to judge and break a parabatai bond

this is actually an au of all your cracks i'll paint gold. because my thought is that an alec who didn't have the faith or hope to wait to give jace till the very last minute (because until the first rune is taken, some part of alec still believes jace is coming). this alec knows he's about to be deruned and he wants to lose his parabatai bond on his own terms. because fuck if he's going to let the clave tear him from jace, he's going to ask raziel to judge them and whoever ends up taking the brunt, so be it. because only raziel can judge the bond between him and jace.

also a part of alec expects to be the one judged as an oathbreaker. he's really tangled up in his own thoughts at this point and he knows he's not thinking straight which makes him doubt himself.

alec wants answers and to fuck the clave by not letting them get their way.

also tbh, for parabatai, i think the loss of the bond itself, especially not knwing what is happening would feel like divine punishment itself. especially for two peple who are so devout to the bond.

i hope you still enjoy <3

lumine

-

Alec doesn’t know what to do, but there is only one thing left to try and Jace is going to lose him either way. This is the most selfish thing Alec’s ever done in his life and he almost doesn’t do it, until he thinks about how long he’s been sitting here, alone.

Jace isn’t coming. Alec knows that at this point. Wherever his parabatai is with Clary, it’s far beyond anywhere that Alec can reach him in time.

And Alec can’t stay sitting here, waiting to be deruned whenever Imogen gets bored of making him wait.

Treated like he isn’t a Commander and not even given the choice of someone as a witness of his own to keep watch.

“I demand the presence of a Silent Brother for an oath.” Alec rasps to the next shadowhunters who pass, and they wince, looking at him with concern but they shake their heads.

Imogen has scared them all with his imprisonment and Alec is paying the price. Alec is normally the backbone of his Institute, the shield between him and the clave and while they trust him to do that, Alec’s never been their official leader or had the chance to make these hunters completely his.

It’s with a snarl and the determination of spite in his heart — because what was the point of any of this? Of denying himself and Magnus even a moment of anything if this is the way things end — and Alec spits his blood and saliva onto the ground.

It’s grueling work.

Alec was already tired from patrol and the mess with Meliorn when they dragged him to a cell and pronounced him a traitor.  There’s been no soul sword and no trial. They want an example and they’re not afraid to use Alec as one.

Where once, Alec would have assumed he had the protection and privilege of the Lightwood name, he knows now that none of it is true. He’s protected himself and his siblings by his own merits, despite their name, all of these years.

So, Alec reaches deep within himself and calls forward the blood magic that every nephilim is told about but rarely any ever attempt.

It’s a brutal, vicious magic that can turn even the simplest of magical desires into an onslaught of eldritch curses.

Alec uses the blood from his split lip and cut cheek and paints a series of runes before placing his hand down and willing it to activate.

His fingers shatter from the pressure he’s using t push down at the same time the array activates and Alec smiles in satisfaction, copper thick on his tongue.

—

“The Silent Brothers have been summoned and so will remain, especially for a trial we were not notified of.”

“Because this isn’t a trial.” Alec rasps out, “I’ve been asked no questions and offered no recourse. I request two things of the Silent Brothers, one of each.”

“Your requests?”

“I declare a broken oath between parabatai. I wish to let the angel judge my parabatai and I’s bond, not the clave.”

Alec isn’t going to fight his deruning, he can’t.

But he’s not going to let the clave strip away his bond, the angel himself can do that.

“The second request?”

“After the first is finished.” Alec says firmly, not about to let them know that his request depends on how the ritual goes.

“Very well. You will need a warlock to maintain your vitals.”

Alec hates to do it, but there isn’t a warlock who he trusts more than Magnus and Alec is very tired of being betrayed.

—

“What is going on?” Magnus asks tightly, because the Institute is full of strange nephilim and there isn’t a single one he recognizes. Which normally isn’t strange, except it wasn’t like this even a week ago.

“You’ve been requested to monitor and maintain the vitals of the nephilim, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, during a ritual.” The Silent Brother escorting him informs him with their invasive way of communication.

Magnus freezes, because this sounds dangerously close to the idea that he’ll be holding Alexander’s life in his hands.

“And he knows I am the warlock working with him?”

“You are the only warlock he would agree to work with.”

Magnus wonders at what that means and curses the flare of hope in his chest. As he enters the room he frowns, noticing it’s heavily guarded by what are clearly clave guards.

They sneer as he passes and Magnus lets his glamour drop, smirking as they flinch from him.  The cell-like quality of the room means he’s not prepared for Alexander when he enters, though he should be.

Alexander looks exhausted and worse than Magnus has ever seen him, and his eyes are dull. There’s a small spark, the softening of Alexander’s gaze on him. When their eyes meet there is wonder and curiosity for a brief heartbeat before Magnus’ glamour goes back up and Alexander’s eyes drop to the floor.

“Well, this is not how I imagined seeing you again.” Magnus says, trying to soften his words but he’s surprised, and he can’t help it and the hope makes him coy. “In my dreams, I imagined crashing your wedding. Not being summoned here to keep you alive.”

Alexander lets out a hoarse, defeated laugh and shakes his head. “There’s not going to be a wedding to crash, Magnus. I’m being deruned for treason. If I’m alive in a week, it’ll be considered impressive.”

Magnus feels his heart crack with the icy hands that have suddenly grabbed it.

“Tell me, everything, Alexander. Now.”

Alec sends him a weary, hopeless gaze and then shrugs, his hoarse voice forming words that tear into Magnus’ cracking heart.

—

Alec recites the words of his oath, the one that will allow Raziel to judge the bonds of his and Jace’s soul.

If he’s to lose this, then he’s going to do it by his own choice.

He expects the pain, when it comes, but it’s more excruciating than he thought it would be. 

The part of Jace’s soul that is melded with his own is burrowed tightly. It writhes and tugs and fights leaving, and Alec is too tired to do anything but accept the pain and the struggle. He doesn’t even have the energy to fight for himself, he certainly doesn’t have the energy to fight for Jace one last time.

Instead, he lets him go and wonders, whose soul will be returned to who.

—

Magnus has never seen such a gruesome, intimate ritual in all of his life, and it galls him at how many are watching it.  He’s keeping Alexander’s heart beating only through the strength of his magic, or Alexander would be lifeless on the flat table they’ve laid him on.  There is nothing to comfort him or ease him from the cold marble and Magnus seethes that he wasn’t allowed to add any kind of magical cushioning.

It’s as if they want Alexander to feel the most discomfort possible.

He can see it in Alexander’s eyes, the surprise and confusion of waking up and it breaks apart the walls he tried so hard to hastily rebuild.

Alexander didn’t expect to wake up and Magnus was the only one he trusted to make sure that if he did die, he was properly taken care of. Death is an intimate affair for shadowhunters, and Magnus knows the honor he’s been given, but every part of this except keeping Alexander alive feels like a curse.

Because what could have happened in the mere days since they last talked and saw each other, to send Alexander spiraling so low? When he was so proud in his own misguided beliefs the last time they saw each other.

“His soul and bond have been judged. Alexander Lightwood’s soul has been returned to him; he has not broken the oath of his bond.”

Alexander doesn’t look pleased by the pronouncement, if anything the distress and grief grow before they’re hidden away.  It’s then that Magnus realizes, while there are a variety of important shadowhunters, there isn’t a single person there connected to Alexander. 

“Is family not allowed?” He asks casually, smirking at the Silent Brother, because all of their order know Magnus’ reputation enough that it’s better to indulge his curiosity.

“There was no family willing or available to come.” Is what he’s told instead of something like, ‘they’re not allowed’ and Magnus, Magnus itches with the urge to destroy something.

“And Alexander?”

Whatever information Magnus is about to learn, is interrupted by Alexander himself.

“My second request, to the Silent Brothers. To request the right of severance. A trial of law.”

Magnus is curious and he raises an eyebrow imperiously at the Silent Brother standing near him.  Magnus hears the mental sigh before he’s told, “to request such a thing, means the clave has first betrayed the nephilim requesting it. There is no risk besides the soul sword knowing it is a lie and he is still due to be deruned. If he cuts himself from the clave, the clave cannot destroy first destroy him.”

“Does he need a magical aid?” Magnus asks without thinking, because of course he wants to help Alexander get away from the people doing this to him.

“Only comfort, when the strength of his own will finally fails him.”

Magnus wonders what that means but he has no further interest in what is being said and he takes the five steps that separate him and Alexander.

“What will happen, when you succeed in the next ritual?”

“I might fail.”

“You won’t.” Magnus assures him, his fingers light as he boldly places his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander stiffens for a moment and Magnus almost moves, before Alexander visibly relaxes and leans even closer.

“I’ll be allowed to leave the clave, though I doubt any Institute will take me. I wouldn’t trust them either, not anymore.” It’s a bitter thing for Alexander to admit and Magnus can tell. “I’ll still have my runes; I won’t be hunted. I can hide in the edges of the mundane world if I need to. I’m sure Night Markets have some use for what I can hunt.”

Magnus tsks and tightens his grip on Alexander’s shoulder and sends a soothing, warming pulse through Alexander’s muscles. His shadowhunter has been shivering since the ritual and not a single shadowhunter has offered him a blanket.

This entire time he’s been dressed in thin clothes, the kind nephilim are buried in, as if his fate is already decided on. Magnus is going to burn the horrendously white shirt and pants Alexander is wearing and never let him wear the color again.

After Alexander agrees… of course.

—

Alexander’s voice is low, but strong as he speaks his truth upon the soul sword. It carries across the room as he grips the soul sword and speaks.  He looks at no one but Magnus as he talks, repeating line for line the various laws the clave have broken in his case. Even Imogen looks a little pale when he’s done, as if hearing the truth of her own crimes is worse the committing them.

Alexander seems stunned when he’s finished.

As if he didn’t really think it would work, as if he thought he might actually be in the wrong and Magnus heart breaks.

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs as he walks towards him, for his shadowhunter’s eyes haven’t once looked away from Magnus’ unglamoured ones. His dark eyes are weary as he watches Magnus, there’s no satisfaction in having one.

Hazel eyes widen in shock as Alexander watches Magnus reach out and wrap his fingers around the hilt of the soul sword.

“None of it has ever been a game. I would cherish you, darling. Far more than the clave, your family, your parabatai or even your exalted angel, Raziel.” The sword doesn’t stop him from speaking, because it isn’t a lie. Raziel cares little for the race he created and what Magnus is starting to feel for Alexander can’t be matched even by a divine being.

Let alone the petty, hateful mortals that have brutalized Alexander’s heart and soul so badly.

“What if you get tired?” Alexander asks and Magnus knows he’s too worn to voice the ‘of me’ aloud.

“I will keep you for every moment of your life.” Magnus tells him, swearing upon an angelic relic that croons temptingly to the corrupted blood in Magnus. “I will never throw you from me. Or give up on you. Whatever exists between us, it can grow to whatever we let it and no matter what that is, I will never abandon you. You, just you, would be enough, Alexander.”

Alexander wraps his trembling arms around Magnus and nods, “then take me away. Please, Magnus. From all of it.”

Magnus smirks at the one Silent Brother who never approached him and Jem nods in return. If his friend hadn’t told him about the properties of the soul sword in detail, this never would have worked.  However, Jem isn’t afraid to toe the line of nephilim law and Magnus has never seen him so enraged as he was when he pressed against Magnus’ mind in secrecy earlier.

The clave cannot refute Magnus’ words, not when sworn on the soul sword or witnessed by two Silent Brothers and that means that this is binding.

The clave no longer has any say or power over Alexander, only Magnus does.

[murderbees]

more about Black Guard Beck because he lives in my head now

---

He went through some horrors, courtesy of Dyson and Clu.

Memory Issues, Yippee! He has vague recollections and feelings about past events, but usually ignores them in favor of whatever mission he is trying to accomplish. General Paige often tries to talk to him, he ignores her as much as possible.

Once released from repurposing, he's put on Dyson's personal squad. They're all freaks Dyson has modded in some way. The rest pity Beck, Dyson is oddly fixated and Beck is going to bare the brunt of his frustrations. (At some point I'll write about them)

The vague vampirism has much less to do with teeth, and much more to do with hidden circuits Dyson personally carved in his skin. Dyson rearranged Beck's lightlines to imitate his own, and the hidden lines imitate Tron's old lines. Beck doesn't know that, but it's like an inside joke for Clu and Dyson.

He can still drink energy, it's a bit less effective because of how his circuits now work. His normal lightlines still process energy like before, but it doesn't filter into his system. It's more storage than anything else. The hidden channels take in processed energy, including from his own system. These channels then redistribute the energy in a useable form. Most of it goes to Beck's regular functioning, but it can be directed as an additional power boost. Downside is that Beck will run out of energy much faster than other programs.

He's usually put on stealth missions. His ability to draw other's energy makes him highly effective.

Unlike Tron or most other programs, Beck does not fight elegantly or with graceful forms. He tears and bites and brawls. When he fights it's messy. He doesn't tend to use weapons, relying on his talons and body. He rarely uses his disc, and if he does, he's more than deadly accurate.

He hates taking his disc off. Every time he's had to take his disc off has been for Dyson and Clu to repurpose or change something about his coding. The idea of throwing it around and losing it drives him crazy.

His coding is not very stable, meaning that, without his disc, he'll turn to a stray quicker as well. He's terrified of losing what memories he has left.

His and Rinzler's relationship is complicated. Clu and Dyson fight to keep them as separate as possible. It's not very effective, since Dyson is Clu's right hand and often works with Rinzler to complete objectives. Beck and Rinzler respect each other, and there's a vague familiarity that sets them at ease with each other.

They also work really well together. They end up becoming friends, or as friendly as you can get as two repurposed programs. Usually they just spar and fight, honing each other's strengths and learning to cover their weaknesses. They don't ever plan anything together, but there's an assured complicity in whatever plot they've gotten themselves into.

He puts his survival above all else. Dyson and Clu reinforced his need for success, but they couldn't get rid of his drive to live. Beck knows that one day they'll try to get rid of him. Before that happens, he's going to kill them first.

[milkytheholy1]

Everything Ends: Part 8

Tmnt Masterlist. Everything Ends Masterlist. Ultimate Masterlist.

A/N: OKAY I finally got it to work, it took many drafts, many restarts and way more patience than I have but hopefully if you're seeing this it means Tumblr finally let me upload the next part! Enjoy!

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

2044

"Aw come on, you won't let me with you again?" Donnie whined, it wasn't something he often found himself doing, but these were different circumstances. Leo heaved a hefty rucksack over his shoulder, the metal of the arm easily taking the brunt weight. 

The leader in blue sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes, "I've already told you, D. We need you to stay here and protect the base, watch over the injured and make more tech. I know you want to fight but you're too important to our cause."

"But I can help, even remotely! Shelldon V.27 would be a simple addition to your pla-" 

"Donnie." Leo called out, cutting the soft-shell turtle off. His thick stare halted Donnie, he knew the glance, knew the body language well enough; he wasn't going anywhere. Donnie released a sigh, slumping back against his wheelie chair, "Fine..." he mumbled out. Leo smiled, although it didn't meet his eyes, "Thank you, I promise it'll be worth it."

"Yeah, yeah." the genius huffed, turning away from his brother to face his tattered creations. He was still trying to rework his battle shell, but with limited parts, the dream was useless, "Just don't lose another arm, I don't have enough parts to build you another one."

"Gee, thanks, Don." Leo laughed out, walking to the entrance of the room. He turned his head to face his brother, even if he could only see his cloaked shell, "Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." he mindlessly finished the quote, a small smile hidden in the shadows. The moment Leo left the room, Donnie cast a sneaky glance over his shoulder to check the coast was clear before he sprung from his seat and frolicked around his minimal lab. 

"Oh to be free once more, I am but a prince trapped in a tower waiting for someone to come and rescue me!" he moaned out, leaning against his desk with a hand to his forehead; he was always one for dramatics. 

His whimsical dreams soon took a turn for the worst, however.

A blaring red light painted the walls of his modest lab, a small beeping sound came from his cracked laptop while loud explosions could be heard in the distance. Donnie's eyes widened, he quickly found himself flipping over the table to keep track of what was happening. 

"Noooo, no, no, no, no, no!" he gargled out unexpectedly, one by one the cameras he had littered around their base were failing, tuning to static. The sounds were getting louder and louder, the ground and walls would shake with each hit. Something was coming and it wasn't going to be pretty. 

Donnie lept from his chair to a small draw on the opposite end of the room, within said draw was a short metal stump but when pressed extended into his glorious tech bo. Over the years the tech-wiz had time to perfect his craft, even coming up with his own logo which he branded on everything.

"Gah, my battle shell!" he cried out, feeling the ground moving below him. But before he could make it to his one form of protection, an explosion blew the wall against him, wrapping him in concrete and metal piping. Once the dust faded, all Donnie could hear was laughter and screams.

The base had been infiltrated, massacred, demolished. Luckily most members of the resistance were with Leo, only the injured and weak were left behind. Before Donnie could sit on the thought that he was left behind because he was weak, a large hand grasped him and heaved him from the wreckage.

"Ahahaa, well if it isn't the purple one." the Kraang sister cackled, Donnie struggled in her grasp, feeling her grip tightening the more he winced in pain. She drew him closer to her face, letting him see the grotesque saliva that coated her teeth, "Where are your pathetic brothers and other freedom fighters? I was hoping to crush the resistance all in one go!"

"Naaagh, well sorry to disappoint, but it's just me." Donatello gritted out through clenched teeth. He wriggled to press a button on his beaten-up tech brace, hearing a small 'beep' sound come from it. Out from the minimalistic wardrobe to their right shot out four metal tentacles which slammed into the Kraang sister, knocking her back a few paces.

Donnie was dropped to the ground, landing on his soft shell, knocking the wind from under him. No matter the amount of pain he was in, he knew he had to get up and call for help, call for Leo. While distracted by his inventions, the Kraang sister shook and growled out as she tried to fight off the scrap metal clawing at her face.

Donnie continued to press buttons on his tech brace, giving a brief "Haha" when all his tech surrounded him like that one scene in Iron Man 3, a small comfort of his when the world wasn't in complete chaos. His bo staff landed in his looming hand, he was smug, maybe it was fake confidence.

With an outstretched arm, Donnie pointed at the Kraang sister on the opposite end of the room, "A long time ago you said my tech couldn't protect me-"

"Huh?" the Kraang sister grumbled, snapping the metallic tentacle bot in half. Donnie released a small chuckle from his lips, his eyes in a heavy glare, "Get ready to eateth thy words!" with that he pushed the button on his tech brace and all at once his tech was sent flying towards the enemy.

Donnie watched in awe, everything he had managed to build from scratch was actually working and not turning evil for once, not that it was ever a problem before, aha.

When his tech began to dwindle, that's when Donnie called in the big guns, "Shelldon!" on the broken table behind the Kraang sister laid a small purple box with gleaming red eyes. Like a Transformer, the creature shifted metal plates and limbs until it stood tall, "At your ready, Donatello!" it cheered out.

"Go get 'em, son!" Donnie whispered, nearly tearing up at his own sentiments. Shelldon sprang onto the back of the Kraang, punching it hard with one fist while tugging on it's skin with the other, "Get off of me you pathetic creature!"

Donnie couldn't take his eyes away from the fight, either from fear or how impressed he was with little Shelldon. But when the Kraang creep grabbed him by the head, Donnie sprung into action, "Get off of my tech!" he yelled, swinging his bo staff and thwacking the Kraang in the side of the face. 

The Kraang sister almost immediately dropped Shelldon, the impact causing some parts to spring off of him; he was of course still in beta. Donnie landed back on the ground with determination in his eyes, he stumbled when he caught sight of Shelldon yet didn't show hesitation with his next actions.

He took a running start, charging at the Kraang then using his mystic abilities as best as he could to form a huge mallet. It had been a while since Donnie had been in a fight, even longer since he had to use his ninpo energy; he was a little rusty and couldn't hold it as long anymore. 

"THIS IS FOR RAPH!" he screamed out, bringing the mallet down against the Kraang...but it didn't work. Just in the second before it could penetrate alien skin, the Kraang had grabbed Donnie by the face. She flung him to the ground, not giving him an ounce of chance at standing back up. She pressed a hard foot against his plastron, pushing down until she heard a cracking sound please her ears. 

Before she could be fully satisfied with the death of another turtle scum, Shelldon bounced back and grabbed at her, yanking her in a feeble attempt to free his injured master. Donnie watched on, eyes barely open and head feeling numb. But he saw his creation, his tech...his son, fighting.

The Kraang had clearly had enough of this, only coming here for a simple mission and while the hunting and fighting were fun little games to her, she wanted to complete her mission. Grabbing Shelldon in a much similar vein to Donnie, she yanked Shelldon's head clean of his body. Circuitry and oil leaked out of the joints, the body going rigid in her hands. She dropped it to the ground with a rather loud 'clank' and then set her beady eyes back onto Donatello.

"Now, where were we?"

Leo sat with his arms wrapped around his torso, near enough shaking at the horrific retellings of his brothers' passings. Casey was still a grave distance away from him, equally just as distraught, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," Leo spoke out, voice quivering, "Y-you did the right thing, I need to know- I want to know. Please, continue." Casey gave Leo a side-eye, unsure whether this was healthy or not, but nevertheless, he continued like clockwork.

"Michelangelo was a skilled and talented sorcerer, he could use the mystic arts like no other being. He fought all around the world, through space and time. Sadly, the greatest thing he could do, the thing that helps people, would weaken him with each use. The more he used his power, the more it drained him, made him old."

Casey released a meek chuckle, "The dude looked 80 instead of someone in their late 30s." Leo wanted to laugh, wanted to lift the heavy atmosphere that settled around the duo, but he just couldn't; not with this topic.

"I'll take everything I have." Mikey's voice drowned Casey's head, causing the boy to whimper.

"He helped me get here, he sacrificed himself to save the future. Just like Master Leonardo, and I can't fail him, fail both of them." Casey flicked his head to the ground, his voice fading out. He knew he had already failed them though, he's been having to carry this fear with him everywhere he went and now finally it had happened.

The Kraang were invading, the world was coming to an end, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. Casey looked towards Leo again, he felt anger; why couldn't this be his master? The one he had grown up with his entire life? Instead, he gets this guy who's clearly in the funk and refusing to see what really matters; his family.

"I wish (Y/N) were here, they'd get you to snap out of it." Casey mumbled under bated breath, thinking it was out of earshot. But Leo's head flicked up, eyes widening, "Look, I know I'm not the Leo you knew in the future, and maybe I never will be." he began.

He started his slow ascend to help Casey pull the rocks away, though the teen still refused to give him eye contact. But Leo continued, he was going to make this right, "This whole time I was sure my family needed me, but the truth is I need them." A bright light blasted through the darkness, incasing both their faces with warmth. Casey and Leo began to dig quicker, but it still wasn't enough. 

Leo placed a hand on Casey's arm, stopping him as he gave him a hopeful smile and apologetic eyes, "If we're gonna survive this, we have to do it together." he finished. Future boy nodded back, silently agreeing with a smile of his own and a sniff of his nose. On three the two began working together, pulling the rocks back with more force until the hole crumbled and the duo were free.

Casey slapped a hand on Leo's shell, congratulating him, "I knew you could do it." Leo nudged Casey's shoulder with his own, "I just needed someone to knock some sense into me, thank you."

Casey went quiet for a moment, looking away, "I, erm, sorry about what I said back there. I was just angry and scared, I shouldn't have brought that stuff up."

"Hey," Leo pleaded, forcing Casey to look at him, offering the teen a warm smile, "Don't feel bad, I needed to hear it. And I promise the future won't end up like that, scout's honour!" he crossed his fingers along his chest, right where his heart would be.

Before Leo could walk off Casey stopped him, a hand outstretched, "I- I didn't-" he stuttered, feeling his eyes blur, "I didn't tell you about (Y/N)." Leo's expression hardened for only a second, his smooth grin forming back on his lips, "Don't bother, it's never gonna happen. Not on my watch.

"No offence, but with your current track record, that doesn't give me much hope."

Leo laughed a little, lolling his head back while he pulled out his katana, "Sometimes hope is the only thing we have." The duo walked along the railways, finally spotting an entrance.

[adanseydivorce]

❤️🧡💚💖 trc

❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

— Because I’ve been in the fandom a really long time but phased in and out in terms of how active I was in it/how much I payed active attention to fanon I think pretty much each of the core four has gotten the brunt of this at some point. I’m going to hesitantly say Adam just because I think fandom flip flops between extremes when interpreting him the most. Blue and Gansey are definitely both candidates too given that at different times “Blue is a horrible misogynist” and “Gansey is an abusive friend” have been not unpopular fandom takes 💀.

🧡: What is a popular (serious) theory you disagree with?

— interpretations of the Adam accepting money for the rent from Ronan when he wouldn’t from Gansey as like, because Adam cares about Ronan more / because Ronan was inherently cleverer about how he offered help. I’ve reblogged a couple metas about it I Do agree with this is probably the best to me: https://www.tumblr.com/nimmieamee/140043652516/hi-just-wanted-to-say-your-adam-parrish-meta-is?source=share

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

for Blue, I think people over inflate her “judgmental” streak it’s definitely a flaw she has but not to nearly the extent it’s portrayed as a lot of the time. Blue is one of the most empathetic characters (I keep thinking about that factoid I told you about where in earlier drafts Blue had literal empath powers.. the mirroring is adjacent to that concept still but it’s so a story avenue I’d love to see explored sometime I have some ideas for how I would write it although idk if I’ll get around), once those initial judgements are challenged she’s very quick to start altering her perceptions, not 100% perfectly (she’s a teenager with feelings) but she does try constantly.

for Adam, I’ve talked about this recently but I think he’s often made more cool, collected and perfectly logical in fanon as opposed to canon. Obviously he’s cerebral and a logical thinker, but he values and strives for that perfect cold logic ideal but he is honestly Such an emotional mess throughout trc. He tries so hard to deal with his emotions logically and fails extraordinarily badly and it’s fascinating to watch, so fanon that has him be a lot more sterile and perfect re: emotional control lose a lot of what’s interesting to me about his character.

💖: What is your biggest unpopular opinion about the series? — I think ultimately the fact I’m p neutral on Kavinsky and Rovinsky counts as quite unpopular, since generally fans are in the camp of either firm hate or firm love and I’m niether + historically am bored by most of that discourse through the years for reasons we’ve discussed previously. I love plenty of chars and dynamics who fit a similar vein to him/them so I roll my eyes at most morality panic about it, but also the Dream pack standom back in the day was deeply insufferable and killed potential for interest.