#you may witness me having a creature moment ONCE

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Yandere! Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

New Job, Who Dis?!

(Grim x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings:(DLC ending spoilers. Suggestive themes)

Grim is now living rent free in my brain.

After completing the DLC ending of A Date with Death, I have decided it is my favorite ending and conjured up a little dialog. This oneshot hints to the endings outcome, so spoiler warning ⚠️. This was written quickly, so pardon any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

“Hold up, start from the top. What's my job description again?”

“Your job will be to give life back to those who aren't supposed to die. Sometimes, innocent people are caught up in things where losing their life was NOT part of the original plan. Because your soul harbors the essence of life itself, with you at my side, you'll be able to attempt to save those people who are at the presepist of dying too early.”

“Attempt?” You eye him quizzically from your place at your desk. Casper is sat at the foot of your bed, long legs outstretched, hands in his lap. He nods and continues.

“Basically, when a mortal is on the verge of death, their soul has become tainted with what we call a ‘blight’ or ‘blight of death’. Similar to ‘the taint’ for reapers, though much much harder to bounce back from when the soul or a mortals very existence is overtaken or ‘infected’ if you will. Some people can bounce back on their own, while others succumb and meet their unfortunate end. I say attempt because sometimes a mortal is beyond cleansing. The blight is too far gone, and no amount of divine intervention will save their existence....so naturally, when we, no, you receive cases like this, time is of the essence.

“I see...wow, that's heavy. No pressure or anything. Sheesh.”

“Yes. The job will be difficult at times. Y/n, there will be times when a person will be beyond help. You'll want to save them desperately. Times where no matter how much effort is placed into saving them, it may not work, and you will be angry. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed an innocent person parish entirely too early at the hands of a twisted version of fate. Those moments are out of my hands, and I have to ferry them away regardless. But that's where you'll come in.” 

“Sooo I'm basically an angel??”

“No, they're grotesque creatures. They instill fear in humans and sugar coat their acts with pretty words. You'll actually give hope. Plus, you're much prettier than they are. Who really needs that many eyes and wings, honestly??? But anyways…”

You fall silent in deep thought.

“Y/n? Why are you screwing up your face like that?”

“Can I really do this, Casper? What if I mess up??”

“My sweetest, little nightmare. I'll be there with you every step of the way.” Casper smiles reassuringly.

“Thank God. OH! Do I get a cool ass scythe of my own, too?” You perk up almost immediately, wistfully looking at his impressive weapon that is currently leaning against your wall nearest the door.

“I...I'll never get used to the way you can flip subjects so easily. But yes, I guess. Once you're settled, we will get you fitted with a 'cool ass scythe'. Or at least a decent weapon you'll use to channel your soul energy. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? That doesn't sound shady at all, but fuck yea!”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you're okay with this decision. I really couldn't think of a better way for this to work out for both of us but-”

“But you have a big, sexy brain that was able to figure it out, now you're stuck with me foreeevvver.” You beam, triumphantly.

“I suppose I am, and quite frankly, I would have it no other way.” With a smile on his face, Casper stands, reaches for your hands, and pulls you to your feet.

“Awww, little reaper. Since when did you get so mushy? It makes me want to violate yo- I mean...I could really go for some food right about now. Yea, food. That's what I meant."

“...You really are something else. We will grab something on the way to my place.”

“Bet. Finally making good on us moving in together?”

“Obviously. I can't escape you.”

“It was inevitable, Casper”

“Seems so…and by the way…”

Casper slips his arm around your waist gently, leaning into your ear.

“I'll take you up on that offer of 'violating' me later, my little nightmare.”

“You just want to be stepped on.”

“S-stepped on? What..uh...I”

“The blush on your cheeks says you do. Can't take it back now. Your fate is sealed. I hope you're ready.” you wink.

“Haaa....fuck.”

[wordy-little-witch]

Okay but One Piece being in the pirate era and the lack of a frankly inordinate amount of sea shanties hurts me. Like you know DAMN well Roger was a partier, Buggy and Shanks undoubtedly know an incredible amount of shanties, from their first crews, from the new crews, from exploring and seeing and experiencing the world so thoroughly from such a young age.

Shanks would be the type to belt them, top of his lungs, but always adhere to the Codes, though he does think on it for a moment. People think he'd be a pirate head to toe, through and through, and he is! Truly, he is. He just doesn't really live by the Code and die by the Code the way some of the older generation does.

Buggy, despite popular belief, is the one to cling to those Codes with all he has. It's subtle, in the way he hums certain songs to himself but never sings the full lyrics without Meaning. He will sing and dance and party with his crew, they will make merry but they will do so properly. He's avant garde and nouveau expressionism but he's also old fashioned.

When he finds out Shanks taught this scrawny rubber twink everything the kid knows about piracy through sporadic meetings over a year, nearing a decade ago, he is absolutely livid. The swordsman is stupid but has a decent head on his shoulders for behavior. The redhead, from what he sees, knows more than most. He decides to put class in session.

He's surprised to be beaten so thoroughly and then furthermore to be removed succinctly. He's not gonna let it slide, obviously, but he'll play along. Sure. Could be fun. He was getting bored anyway.

Shit just so happens to hit the fan with this decision and all that follow. Shanks, knowing the truth of things, is simply VERY amused and Buggy is debating fratricide.

He's been playing this role for so long, it feels unnatural to drop it. It feels wrong. It makes him panic, makes him Itch.

It only comes to a head years later as he's humming to himself late in the evening on a certain day in September, having spent a good chunk of the day on his own, away from company and to the surprise of very few. Crocodile and Mihawk are among those who do not know why, but they alone are the ones to look for him.

Finding Buggy, singing softly to an animal as he gently brushes out their fur, surrounded by calm animals who seem to nearly build a wall with their bodies between himself and the world, was not anticipated to either men. Nor was hearing Buggy's voice, usually so shrill and rasped, flow gently over a melody with a grief filled expression. Ritchie, among the ones closest, gently head butted the clown with soulful eyes. Mihawk and Crocodile simply watch, seeing Buggy groom and pamper the creatures within the stables this far from town as he sings a specific sequence of songs.

Mihawk realizes first just what they're witnessing, and he grips the logia user's arm, guiding them both back. Crocodile, startled, goes to ask, and Hawkeyes simply shakes his head sharply. It is only once they are far enough that Mihawk breaths a stunned, "He's performing Rites."

"What?"

"Rites," the swordsman reiterates, sending the other a suspicious look. "The Rites of the Code."

The mafioso takes a drag from his cigar, gesturing for the other to go on.

Mihawk sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I forget," he remarks dryly, "how uneducated in ours ways you are."

"Excuse me-?!"

"Rites," the other interrupts, "are a form of mourning. Frequency varies, and the honoring actions can be altered as well. The constant component are the shanties sung in remembrance and the flags flown. For some, a single instance can be sufficient..." Golden eyes drift to the side, unfocused, as he continues. "For others, there is a need to continue doing so. Often, it is a crew mourning a commanding officer. Unlike Marines, Pirates all share an unspoken connection. Though paths may vary and goals may differ, we all care Her in our veins."

Violet eyes love to the expanse of blue, the horizon bleeding across the world. He knew. He may lack some of the nuance of the Code from his priorities laying further inland, but he knew this. How could he not when his own blood sang salted sprays? He knew this much at the very least.

"So the clown is in mourning."

"Yes."

".... why?"

"...... ....... it is September."

"And?"

"The 28th."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You were there, too, 25 years ago. Loguetown."

Silence falls.

The wind rustles branches overhead. It carries the faintest wisps of a voice. The two men pointedly ignore it and the choked quality it had.

".... I see."

"..... yes. That is my theory, at any rate."

"............. Hawkeye."

"What?"

"He was on the King's crew."

"Yes, this has been established."

"Why?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Why him? Why the clown? He's not even 40 yet, so that day... he'd have been, what, 15, at the most? He'd have been on the crew for years by that point. He was there before the man was crowned, after all."

"Shanks was, as well. I believe the earliest mention was when he mentioned an incident from their childhood. He'd said they were... oh, what was it? Seven? Thereabouts. To be on a crew so young..."

"To be there so long, Hawkeye. The brat would have been with them since childhood. That crew was infamous for the things they did - the clown does not fit the pattern."

"He does not boast anything nearing the decorum expected of a fledgling of a King..."

"He knows the Codes, something never mentioned to us nor taught explicitly to his crew that we know of. He served under the King and kept it hidden from the world government for decades. He escaped the Grandline and settled as an East Blue nuisance for years. He was imprisoned in Impel Down with no sea stone."

Golden eyes widen. "You believe he has been hiding more than simply his heritage."

"What makes more sense? This, or what we have thought so far."

"How would we confirm it?"

"Just ask me, maybe?"

Neither man will admit to being startled when a new voice chimes in, soft and hoarse, drowsy. Buggy leans into Ritchie's side as the lion purrs loudly, the clown rubbing his eye.

He continues. "Tomorrow, though. It's late, I'm not feeling well, and Ritch and I have a date with my blanket nest."

"The lion?" / "Blanket nest?"

Buggy giggles softly. "Weighted blankets are expensive. Weighted Ritchies only cost snacks and chin scritches," he remarks softly. "As for the blankets, nests are the way to go. Good night."

Two dark haired men are left by a drowsy clown and lion in the woods on the edge of town with much to thing on and a list to compile for the next day.

The first question? How Mihawk had not sensed him whatsoever on approach.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Hiii can you write a part 2 for this? Maybe like he snaps out of it and realized what happened. And he remembers what reader siad and just angst

Darkness

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!reader

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, mentions of ripped out hearts. Red door Elijah.

Author’s Note: Hey! Look! I'm finally posting something! There's been so many things happening and I'm just glad something is being posted. I'm slowly but surely working on the Make It Angsty Celebration requests. They're coming along with other things as well. I promise. Please note that you NEED to read Demons Within to understand what is going on with this fic. Thank you so much Anon for this request and thank you for participating in the Make it Angsty Celebration.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Demons Within || TVDU Masterlist

If there was one thing Elijah learned during his existence it was that magic could have a vice grip upon its target depending on the spell. Hexs sucked the light and life out of the person they were put upon. Immortality had its consequences that proved time and time again that even an original vampire could be bested with the simplest of spells. 

Many forms of magic had been witnessed through the centuries. And while Elijah had his fair share of receiving spells, there was nothing in comparison to the witchcraft his mother had put upon him. Forcing Elijah to completely experience the darkness that laid and waited just beyond the red door locked within his mind. 

Since he had awoken, the moments of darkness would come unexpectedly. The monster that lay dormant for so long was eager to play. To sink his teeth into the beauty that surrounded him. To destroy the glimpses of perfect moments that hid who he truly was. A creature that enjoyed the hunt as a sport and the blood that was tasted was the prize.  

Elijah had been able to keep his darker self at bay many times. Even with his mother’s spell intact, there was always a way to come out of it before he had done something he regretted. One thing was always for certain, his family had remained protected at all times. At least that was until the darkness consumed him. 

The simplest of conversations had triggered the monster within. He and Y/N had been talking about the safety of their family. A plan being put into motion to stop Esther once and for all. But the dormant monster’s interest had been piqued by the blood Elijah’s wife had been cleaning off of her shirt, blood from the last person she pulled a heart from. The clean up triggered the monster that she shouldn’t be hiding who she really was. 

The more Y/N spoke to Elijah about her plan, her eyes had been on the towel in her hand as she wiped the last of the blood off. She had missed the way Elijah was beginning to lose his hold on the present. She had missed the way the darkness was so eager to consume him. And when she finally noticed it, it had been too late. 

The last thing Elijah had remembered was the way Y/N slowly reached her hand up to his face. His name left her lips softly as she attempted to call him back to her.  The same maneuver she had done several times to keep him there with her. But this time it didn't work. It wasn’t long before Elijah had completely lost control of himself. 

Screams filled his ears even in the darkness. The part of Elijah that fought for control could only listen to the destruction that his body was creating. The cries for help may have brought pleasure to the monster currently at play, but to Elijah, he couldn’t even bring himself to begin to think about the damage. 

‘Lijah. It’s me. You know me. You’ve known me for centuries.

The familiarity of the voice that played through his ears should have helped. The very voice that had brought him peace was there trying to break through to him. The voice that had been embedded in his mind for centuries. During his times of being daggered it was that voice that helped him through the darkness. Yet at this very moment, he couldn’t grasp onto the hope that the voice held. 

You know me, Elijah. I can show you.

The voice was breathless. As if the person speaking was having trouble breathing. And in the darkness that surrounded Elijah, he knew he should be worried. He knew that what was happening wasn’t good. That every fiber of his being should have been fighting to stop what was happening, but nothing he did to gain control worked. 

The darkness kept him under. Held him down while he was forced to listen to the sounds that entered through his ears. Even his brain refused to let in the familiarity of the voice that he was currently listening to. The magic within him taunting him. 

You should have taken Esther's offer. 

I-it’s okay. The sweet voice played through his ears once more. The words cracked slightly and it caused an ache to fill Elijah. One that the monster didn’t or would ever understand. I’m not scared. I promise. It’s n-not your fault if you do this. It’s going to be okay. Just know that I love you.

NO!

It was the first thought that Elijah had been able to force out of the abyss. The one and only thought that begged and pleaded his body not to do this. To not do anything to the voice that had brought him comfort in the darkness. No matter how hard Elijah tried to pull himself out of the darkness, nothing worked. Nothing he tried to keep the voice safe worked. 

It wasn’t until the satisfaction of subduing a threat washed over him that he knew he failed. The ache that he felt moments before had lingered, if not grew more with each passing moment. The silence had proved he had lost the comfort of that voice. 

Elijah?

The echo of his name registered in his mind some time later. How much time had passed, he was unsure. He had no idea how long he had been held under in the darkness. But he knew that was his name. He knew the familiarity of that voice. He just had to push himself out. 

“What happened Elijah?” His sister’s voice. He knew that. He knew Rebekah’s voice. He could hear the panic in her words as he pulled himself closer to the surface. 

“It’s Esther’s spell.” Klaus’s voice filled his ears. “I’ve seen this look on him before.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Rebekah asked. Elijah could only assume that Rebekah had been asking Klaus. But the question had brought Elijah closer to the surface than he had been in hours. 

“Y/N.” Her name came out as a whisper but it was enough for him to gain the necessary control over his body once more.

He blinked his eyes a few times before the darkness that held onto him so tightly finally let go. The blurred edges of his vision finally clearing and allowed him to focus on his siblings. Klaus had been standing to his left and Rebekah to his right. Both of them had the same worried expressions displayed on their faces. 

“Are you and Y/N okay?” Rebekah’s voice was soft. She was trying to keep her voice calm. If Klaus was sure this was the spell, she didn’t need her older brother being triggered once more. 

Confusion filled Elijah at her question. He and Y/N had been fine moments ago. They simply had been discussing what steps to take to help get rid of Esther.  What could possibly have happened in the last few minutes that would have caused his siblings to worry as they were?

That was when he caught sight of his blood drenched sleeve. It rested on the arm rest of the chair in the courtyard. He had no memory of ever sitting in that chair let alone how the blood had gotten on him. Dried blood covered his arm and was even caked on his fingers. 

The more Elijah had a grip on reality, the more he noticed the smallest of details about himself. Besides the blood that lingered on his sleeve and hand, his face felt dry. No doubt from the blood that currently covered his lips and chin. While his suit may have been dark, a shade of crimson had taken front and center. The white button up ruined by a victim he was unaware of. 

“What happened?” Rebekah asked once more. 

Elijah shook his head. “I have no idea.” 

As he moved to stand, his siblings allowed him the space he needed to do so. Elijah took in his surroundings, looking for any clarification as to what happened. His eyes moved from one place to another, trying to piece the last thing he remembered. 

The rest of the courtyard had been left untouched. There was no evidence that there was an altercation of some kind. There were no bodies lingering on the floor somewhere. There was no scent of fresh blood filling his nose to indicate the death he caused had been there. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Elijah asked, looking towards his siblings. “She may be able to explain what I cannot.”

Elijah knew that this had been his mother’s doing. He had known that there was something that had caused his mind to blank. But he had no idea how long he had been under or what had caused it. Everything deep within him was telling him something horrible had happened. 

“She’s not here.” Klaus noted. “When we arrived, it had just been you.”

“I tried calling her phone.” Rebekah added. “But she left it here. I know she wouldn’t leave you while you were fighting this.” A flash of a memory passed through Elijah’s mind at her words. 

“Stay with me.” Y/N’s said as she brought her thumbs up to Elijah’s cheeks. Her thumbs moved over the veins that were forming underneath his eyes. “Elijah.”

Elijah had been fighting it off. He was trying his hardest to stay there with her. To fight the darkness that wanted to consume him. He watched as her hands moved down to his neck in a comforting touch. But the only thing the darkness registered was a threat. 

His hand quickly grabbed a hold of her arm and twisted it. As he had done so, a sickening crack played through the air and Y/N cried out in pain before she pulled herself free. He watched as she took a few steps away from him. 

In return, Elijah took several steps towards her. The only thing registering in his brain was to get rid of the threat that stood in front of him. Y/N’s eyes filled with fear for the briefest of moments before she turned and ran with him following right behind her. 

A gasp left Elijah’s lips as the memory left his mind. The details left him shaking his head in disbelief. He wouldn’t do that to her. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever hurt his wife like that. 

“What is it?” Rebekah asked, watching her brother’s face change with his emotions. 

“I hurt her.” His voice carried his disbelief and he hadn’t missed the look of shock on his siblings as the words settled within him. He shook his head once more trying to get things straight. “I broke her arm before she ran. She couldn’t get through to me."

An indescribable feeling began to form within Elijah. It was a feeling Elijah had never felt before. It was almost a deep satisfaction mixed in with grief that he knew he shouldn’t be experiencing. Yet it was there in the pit of his chest. 

“She got away.” Rebekah was hopeful. “She managed to get away and she’s waiting until you came back to your senses to come home.”

I-it’s okay. I’m not scared. I promise. 

The ache in his chest grew as he shook his head. The voice that rang within his ears was part of a memory that he couldn’t force himself out of. He could only hear her voice but not see what happened to her.  

“I need to find my wife.” He said before turning and began leaving. Klaus and Rebekah were right on his heels in hopes to find Y/N and to find her completely fine.

It wasn’t long before the Mikaelsons had found themselves in the woods just outside of town. The familiarity of the area alerting Elijah that he had been there earlier that day. Klaus and Rebekah watched their brother as he tried to piece his memory together. Their mother’s spell was doing a number on him in the worst possible way. 

The further they ventured into the woods, Klaus tried his best to be hopeful. But he was slowly picking up on how things had gone. Klaus knew what it was like to thrive with the darker sides of vampirism unlike his brother. As thrilling as the kill was, the hunt had been part of the fun. 

If Elijah’s darker side had been hunting, Klaus knew there was only so far that Y/N could run before she found herself within his grasp. His sister in law may have been a vampire for centuries and stronger than most, she wasn’t an original. Even she could be killed easily if he or any of his siblings got a hold of her. 

The sound of a twig snapping right under Elijah’s foot had snapped another memory through his mind.

With every step Y/N took as she ran, Elijah hadn’t been far from her. He could see the way she ran through the woods. Every fiber of the monster within him enjoying the hunt. But even while a hunter could find the hunt exciting, eventually there needed to be a time where the hunted needed to be caught. 

He watched as Y/N steered towards her right before he moved himself to lead her to turn in a different direction. The game plan to keep moving her in the direction he wanted her. Her attempts at running from him would soon be pointless and he’d have her right where he wanted her. 

He watched as she occasionally brushed by the branches close to her. Some of them broke while others bent to the force of her passing. He slowed his steps a bit, knowing it would give the moment of peace before he’d pounce. 

That was until the slightest tug of a smirk played at his lips the moment he heard voices close by. 

The soft late afternoon breeze picked up, allowing the scent of blood to fill the air. It alerted all of them to the strong scent that had been close by. It caused them to turn their attention in the direction of the wind. 

“Blood.” Rebekah said out loud. Even though they knew what the scent was before the clarification, it needed to be heard to make sure they were all on the same page. 

“Not her’s.” Elijah noted as he looked back towards the direction he had been going moments before. “Two hikers if it is needed to be known. They never saw it coming.”

Klaus looked down at the ground before looking towards his sister. A silent look shared between the two of them. One meant that this may not have the outcome they were hoping for.  While Klaus wasn’t by any means hoping for Y/N’s death, that was all his mind settled on. If the bodies in the distance were any indication his brother had been pulled deep into the darkness that there was no telling what he could have done. 

All it took was for Elijah to take a few more steps further into the woods before dread completely filled him. His chest became tight as the ache filled him. His heart knew well before his brain had registered the dark memories that were kept at bay. And with one more step his world had come to a complete stop. 

Not too far in front of where he currently stood, his eyes fell to the base of a tree. Just peeking from behind it laid a hand, resting. One that currently rested palm down with the sun catching the ring that took residence on the fourth finger. A ring he had spent months perfecting the band the stone that Y/N loved sat in. 

“No.” Elijah’s head shook as he took another step toward the hand. And with every step he took, his mind took the opportunity to torment him with the memories that he couldn't grasp onto until now. 

Y/N had been looking just past the tree she had been hiding behind. Her attempts at being still to try and locate him had been pointless. The moment she had stopped, Elijah had her. The brief moments he had with hikers didn’t stop him keeping Y/N exactly where he wanted her. 

Her moment of distraction allowed for his opening. Elijah grabbed a hold of her arm and spun her around to face him, pinning her to the tree. Her startled yelp filled his ears and the monster within him had chuckled. 

He could see the way her eyes had been taking him in. No doubt taking in the creature that was reveling in death it was causing. He could see the way her eyes held worry for what was happening to him. But the creature within him could see the spark of fear that played within them as well. 

“‘Lijah.” He watched as she shook her head slightly. “It’s me. You know me. You’ve known me for centuries.”

From the moment Elijah noticed Y/N’s hand, there was hope that she was okay. While he may not have known what happened to her, he had hoped that she was only knocked out. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her too much and that he would send a lot of time trying to make up for what he may have done to hurt her. But once he reached her, he fell to his knees in front of her.

Her skin had been ashen gray. The dark colored veins that covered her body had been every indication that she wasn’t going to wake up. Y/N hadn’t been like him or his siblings. There wasn’t the possibility of waking up from an attempt at her life. And if that hadn’t been proof enough, her heart laid close by. 

Tears filled Elijah’s eyes as he reached for her. His hand gently ran along her cheek as he took in her face. The life and color in her eyes that he loved so much had been gone. Even as he lifted her body into his lap, there was disbelief that even his darker self had been capable of killing the one woman he would never stop fighting for. Yet, she laid lifeless in his hold.  

A sob passed his lips as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to her face. There were several emotions playing through him. Guilt, grief, anger at himself and at the monster that laid within him. Anger at his mother for the spell she had placed on him that forced that monster to the surface when he spent centuries trying to keep him at bay.

A gasp left Rebekah’s lips as she and Klaus had come to Elijah’s side. They both had taken in the scene just as Elijah had moments before. grief had instantly flooded the siblings as they watched their brother hold onto his wife. 

When Rebekah tried to take a step towards Elijah and Y/N, Klaus pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug. While he knew that Rebekah meant well in wanting to be by their brother’s side, Klaus knew that Elijah needed a moment with his wife without anyone else interfering. 

A loud cry of pain rang in Elijah’s ears as it left Y/N’s lips causing her hands to fall to her side. He watched as she looked down to find that he removed his hand from her neck, his other had been shoved into her chest. Her heart was within his grasp as he watched her take in her current situation.

He could feel the way her heart beat within his grasp. How fragile she had become the moment he had his hand in her chest. He had been holding her literal life in his hand and only one movement would bring the threat in his eyes to death. 

He watched as Y/N's eyes had filled with tears before they began flowing down her cheeks. He had been studying her reactions. Taking them in as if for a moment as he was fighting himself on what he was doing. But the magic rooted deep within the monster would never allow the man out of the deep to save his beloved. With the simple action of squeezing his hand, another scream filled his ears at the action.

Elijah watched as even though Y/N had been struggling to fight against his hold, the tears that had once been streaming down her face had slowed. The fear that once was in her eyes, vanished almost completely. Her reactions went from surviving to accepting of what was to come.

Elijah shook his head as the memories flooded in. The details that poured into his mind did nothing but fuel the guilt and anger that filled him. Y/N tried everything she could to break through to him. Everything that worked beforehand, she had tried once more. 

It was when Elijah had watched as her features changed in his memories that he understood how deep he had been under his mother’s spell. And as the memories continued to play, his hold on Y/N’s body became a little tighter. 

Elijah watched as Y/N struggled for a moment more as she tried to gain some control over herself. Her eyes met his as she took a shaky breath. 

“I-it’s okay.” Her voice cracked slightly before she groaned from the pain from the slightest movement of his hand. “I’m not scared. I promise. It’s n-not your fault if you do this. It’s going to be okay. Just know that I love you.”

Elijah may have received the message Y/N had been trying to get to him, but that didn’t change what happened. Y/N had known she couldn’t break through to him to get him to stop. The only thing she could do was speak to the man that would come out of the darkness eventually. 

“Forgive me.” Elijah said as he looked down at Y/N. Tears had fallen from his cheek and several tear drops had landed on Y/N’s face. 

His mother had been hell bent to prove to her children that there was a way to get away from the creatures they had become. She offered each of them a way to start over and each of her children refused, content with their life even if there were centuries of heartache and darkness. None of them would be willing to trade their lives to live within an innocent’s body. 

With that refusal, Esther played dirty and Y/N was the necessary means to the witch in order to drive her words home to her children. While it hadn't been directly her doing, it was her spell that left Elijah holding his wife’s body as he cried uncontrollably at what he did.

No amount of apologies that passed his lips could take back the actions he had done. No amount of begging to anything that would listen to bring her back would force life into her. No shaky touch of his fingers along her face or press of his lips to her skin would change the actions the creature within had done. 

His blood stained hand held her ashen gray cheek as his thumb ran along the veins that littered her face. “Please forgive me.” 

The words had been repeated several times in hopes that some way she’d be able to hear them. He said them more times in the last several minutes than he ever had said them within his existence. Yet, she’d never be able to say the words that he needed to hear. 

His heart ached at the thought that she wouldn’t be able to give him the forgiveness that he seeked. Even though she accepted and went into her death with no fear, all while promising it hadn’t been his fault, he felt otherwise. Her blood, and others, were literally on his hands. 

With her gone, Elijah knew nothing would be the same. The woman he spent a majority of his existence with had been taken from him. The woman that pulled him from the edge of darkness time and time again would no longer be able to. And that thought alone scared him more than anything. 

His eyes moved over his face once more. His mind was trying to picture her in any form other than the ashen gray that took a hold of her. Anything to bring life into her. A way to hold on to her for as long as he can mentally do so. Physically, Elijah knew he could sit there for hours holding on to her, begging for the events to be different, begging for her forgiveness for killing her.

It was what would come after, that scared him. His light within the darkness had been snuffed out. The one person that could always bring him back would no longer be able to. The further into the spell he went, there would be no telling what would happen next. 

As his hold on Y/N tightened, clinging onto what he had left, the creature within taunted him. Taunted him with the memories that he wished never happened in the first place. And with each fresh wave of guilt, Elijah was faced with the undeniable truth. 

The next time he fell into darkness, there would be no coming back.

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[fruit-sauce]

Thinking about it more, I wanna expand on my Fallen Angel BBH headcanon, where he fell and became a demon because of Ironmouse questioning if the creator really existed (explained in this video), as well as update my personal headcanons/theories/timeline for q!BBH

Again, this is all my personal thought process, a lot of it is made up/may not makes sense, this is just me making a cool story lol:

Here's where my brain is at-

In her story, Ironmouse became curious in whether or not the creator existed, opening the inner chamber to see for herself. In the end, the image was stripped from her memory and she fell into the abyss below, along with many other angels who wanted to know, and was locked into a box, deprived of all her senses, until Bubi, the then ruler of hell, came along and freed her, wanting her power. She then became the new ruler of hell and.. you can watch her lore videos, they're really well made and she's super interesting

ANYWAYS!... BadBoyHalo :D

Going with the name "Saints of Games", before becoming a demon, Saint was an angelic deity that lived in heaven. He was a deity that revolved around games and luck. Alongside him was Philza, who is the angel of Death (Philza was not there when Mouse opened the chamber)

Being the curious creature he is, of course, he was there to witness Ironmouse opening the chamber, but knew of the dangers and stayed off to the side. So, when he fell down, he was not a part of Bubi's or Mouse's rule (as well as him not liking being ruled over).

Upon becoming a demon, he gained a new name and lost his status of being a deity of games and luck (with luck going to Alpharad and games becoming more like tricks/pranks), but he did not lose his power. Seeing as he resided in the outskirts of hell, most knew to stay away from him, resulting in him becoming very lonely, desperate for any type of interaction.

This desperation turned violent, growing worse as time went on, becoming hungry for food; for power; for soul energy... Until something finally happened.

Seemingly out of no where, he was dragged to the surface, summoned by a group of occultists, BadBoyHalo was pulled to the Earth's crust, against his own will. Unfortunately, they were a few centuries too late, this was not an all powerful demon, ready to make deals and offers- this was an all powerful demon, fuel with rage and hate, disdain for anything and everything that lived.

Atlantis sunk that day. Some random day in 9600 B.C.

Sitting in ash covered, charred ruins of once a thriving civilization, now sat a demon, curled in on himself, crying to no ears but his own. The one thing he wanted, he needed, was gone. And it was because of him.

For the first time in his eternal life, he felt so small; he couldn't stay here. He didn't want to stay here.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.

With the sheer amount of death and destruction he created, it was only a matter of time before one of Death's angel came by.

Philza, surprised to see Saint BadBoyHalo so far from hell, takes him to the Void as a last ditch effort to calm him down. I say "last ditch effort" because Philza tried to handle it there, but BBH was having none of it (they fought, which caused Atlantis to 100% sink)

Reaching the Void, BadBoyHalo was able to meet the Goddess of Death herself, Kristin (we love the goddesses in the household). Taking pity on him, the Goddess of Death, decided to help, healing his shattered soul and giving him purpose. While not fully whole, it was a start. From that moment on, he now serves as one of her highest ranking reapers (one of = there are others -> I see Missa as a grim reaper) BadBoyHalo then has the ability to travel from the Void to the surface, both for fun and for his job.

During this time, after destroying Atlantis, Foolish, a deity who once slept eternally, blessing a lucky few with the ability to come back from the dead, was awakened. He watched Philza and BadBoyHalo leave, but since he could not follow them, he walked the earth to bide the time.

In the background of all this BBH stuff, he is worshiped as a god, feared my many, and more, waiting for cross paths again. Basically, when BBH woke him, it forced a bond between the two that only death could break, but since BBH is immortal... they're kinda stuck with each other...

Eventually, BadBoyHalo finds himself in The War (hunger games), where he meets Cellbit. Instead of killing this small child, they form a pact, a deal-

BadBoyHalo becomes his familiar... temporarily, at least.

Of course, it doesn't last forever, they split paths; Cellbit gets arrested and BadBoyHalo does.. something???

Its during then and now where BBH not only finds Skeppy, but then the two of them manage to get themselves stuck in a timeloop, yet every time it looped, they still managed to find each other.

Skeppy is some sort of gem creature, being said to be made of purely diamond, only killable via extreme heat

To me, Skeppy and BadBoyHalo also form a pact, but it's way stronger than the one Cellbit and BadBoyHalo:

Skeppy is able to live for centuries, able to shift his body into any size and shape he so desires, look through diamonds as if they were his own eyes, shatter into billions of pieces and get back up again.

BadBoyHalo is constantly hungry, but no physical meal could satiate his hunger. No rare meats or pretty plants, rocks or wood, nothing.

Except soul energy.

In simple terms, Skeppy is a constant source of energy of which BadBoyHalo can eat from, without the worry of killing him. BadBoyHalo can consciously eat it, but he also naturally absorbs it, meaning that if he stays near someone for too long, he'll end up accidentally killing them or at least making them weaker. That's why, when he "pretends" to be the grim reaper, he's constantly telling people to drink water, or how he generally tries to keep people alive, healthy and happy- it lessens the chance for him to accidentally kill them.

By creating this deal, Skeppy gains some of BadBoyHalo's immortality, further becoming a constant fountain of soul energy.

With the idea that Skeppy and BadBoyHalo consistently found the other while in the time loop, I'm just gonna call them soulmates lol

Going back on myself, Skeppy being "a constant fountain of soul energy" is not an exaggeration, BadBoyHalo is considerably stronger the closer they are together. But, seeing as they are apart at the moment, BadBoyHalo is very weak; he doesn't want to feed off the other islanders, Cucurucho and the Code are not options he wants to try (looking at q!Slime being corrupted and q!Forever on the happy pills), so its just a waiting game

Things I don't know how to incorporate at the moment are all the references he makes towards Italy, being whatever happened in Venice and Naples, and anything involving Mount Vesuvius; I don't wanna make any guesses right now while cc!BBH is still dropping crumbs. Unfortunately, this includes anything with the Eggpire, not only do I need to rewatch it, but since it was retconned and cc!BBH said he'd reveal some stuff about it, that section is gonna be on hold for me. On top of that, apparently MCC being at least somewhat canon??? that was mentioned at one point

So instead, here are some little headcanons:

BBH hates being summoned, when he was summoned by Foolish, Cellbit, Roier and Jaiden is a perfect example of this; this trait was passed to Dapper, as she seems to also find it annoying to be summoned at random

BBH will pick up and cradle Dapper and/or Pomme while he sings to them, they find immediate comfort in being held by him

Grim Reapers don't kill, not often at least. They collect souls and guide them to the afterlife. It is the angels of Death that actively kill. This can be seen whenever Missa stands back while Philza kills off mobs. BBH, being a fallen angel/powerful deity, differs from this, as he does both the killing and soul gathering

BBH and Ironmouse never really knew each other as angels, nor as demons, but they could sense that the other was a demon, as well as just use their eyes, Mouse doesn't hide it and BBH is bad at hiding it. Tina, on the other hand, is good at hiding it! Since she has no wings and consistently files down her horns

Whilst wondering the mortal world, there have been times where people have tried to jail or contain him. Tried. Just for fun, BBH enjoys to wear some of the chains from their attempts, almost like jewelry! They make a frightening noise, clinking against each other, but it makes him even more terrifying when he appears without making any noise

Foolish and BBH love to fight, but it usually needs to be on a secluded island or a place very far from civilization because of how much destruction they usually cause

If BBH stands in one spot, the plants around him start to die. In contrast, if Foolish were to walk in the same path, they would regrow.

There are very few that BBH cannot eat soul energy from, some being: Death's angels and reapers (Philza, Missa, etc.) Dapper, Pomme, Tallulah and Chayanne. Everyone else would need time far away from him to recover, hence BBH living underground, far from anyone else

^ Foolish and Skeppy are technically in the same category for "infinite soul energy" but for different reasons

^ Very few eggs can withstand it, only the ones that are children of those who can already not be drained: BBH -> Pomme/Dapper; Philza/Missa -> Chayanne/Tallulah

^^ this means that, like Foolish, Leo has infinite soul energy

[elrondsimp]

do you suppose we could have a company x modern! reader oneshot where one evening they get the idea to try drawing a light glyph (like from the owl house) and it actually works and just about everyone else is baffled because they didn’t think humans could do magic and the reader’s just sitting there amazed because holy mahal they just did magic.

if you’re up for it. please, and thank you

The Hobbit X Gn! Reader

“Owl house?”

A/n: I’ve never seen owl house (and never will) so I hope this was good enough.

The wind howled through the darkened forest as rain poured down relentlessly. The company, seeking shelter from the storm, huddled together under the meager cover of a large rock formation. Gloin and Oin, the dwarven brothers, were desperately attempting to start a fire, but their efforts were in vain. Frustration mounted, and their argument grew louder with each passing moment.

Thorin, the weary leader of the company, raised his voice above the clamor. "Enough!" he commanded, his tone filled with exhaustion. The arguing ceased immediately, and the dwarves turned their attention to their leader.

Just then, Y/n, a human who found themselves transported to this fantastical world, had an idea. They had witnessed magic during their time here, and though they lacked the innate abilities of the dwarves or other magical creatures, they had an inkling of an idea that might just work.

"Wait," Y/n spoke up, their voice filled with excitement and hope. "I have an idea. Give me a moment."

Curiosity piqued, the company watched as Y/n reached into their pocket and pulled out a small notebook and a pencil. With deliberate movements, they sketched a glyph on a blank page, the symbol reminiscent of the magical glyphs from a show they used to watch.

Once the glyph was complete, Y/n held up the page, the rainwater sliding off its surface. They whispered a few words, their voice barely audible over the storm, and with a flick of their wrist, they released the page into the air.

To the astonishment of everyone present, the glyph on the paper began to glow softly. A warm, gentle light emanated from it, casting an otherworldly glow over the surrounding area. The raindrops that came into contact with the light turned into tiny sparks, fizzling away harmlessly.

The dwarves' eyes widened in disbelief, their jaws dropping in awe. They had always believed that only those born with magic could harness its power. Yet here was a human, from a completely different world, conjuring magic right before their eyes.

Y/n could hardly believe it themselves. The realization of what they had just accomplished sank in, and they couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and wonder. They had always been captivated by tales of magic, but now, they had become a part of that magical realm.

Thorin, recovering from his initial shock, approached Y/n, his expression a mixture of amazement and gratitude. "You have brought us a ray of hope in this dark hour," he said, his voice filled with appreciation. "Your magic has saved us, Y/n."

Y/n, still processing the magnitude of what had transpired, smiled humbly at their companions. "I may be from a different world, but I am honored to stand among you and share in this adventure."

As the storm raged on outside, the company found solace in the warm glow of Y/n's magical creation. In that moment, boundaries of race and origin were forgotten, replaced by a shared sense of awe and unity. Together, they weathered the storm, bound by the magic that now flowed within and around them.

[zoeykallus]

When I was a kid, I used to come back with all sorts of things that are considered dangerous for parents. Bringing back home Geckos, butterflies, ladybugs, a whole ass cat lmao as it hung from my arms, and a scary dog once. And I still do that as an adult!

I wonder what the batchers would react to their s/o coming back with a whole ass wild Varactyl? ( the creature obiwan rides before being shot down) or a Nexu that happens to be friendly?

The batchers already know s/o has a fondness for animals, but didn’t think animals were fond of them as well. Oh, I forgot to mention. She wants to keep it for conveniences lol.

I was the same type of kid. My Dad said I was not allowed to go to the woods alone, so I took my grandfather's dog to walk in the woods and collect bugs and such. When my Dad was angry and said that he told me not to wander off alone, I said "But I took Erlo with me" Unfortunately, Erlo didn't count in my Dad's eyes as a companion for my bug tours. But the dog was actually an awesome protector, and he obeyed everything I said, even though I was very young and not the alpha in our 'pack'. Erlo was a good boy...

Erlo and me btw... sorry I strayed 😅

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - The Stray

_________

You have a heart for animals and all kinds of strays. Your batcher knows that too, but he doesn't expect this particular stray that you suddenly bring along.

_________

Hunter

When he opens his eyes, four red eyes stare at him. Hunter jumps up, startled, immediately draws his knife and gets ready to fight, his heart racing, but the nexu does not attack him.

"He's tame," you say with a laugh.

Hunter sighs heavily, realizing you've brought another stray with you.

"A tame nexu?" he asks critically.

You nod and stroke the animal's head, whereupon it makes a sound similar to a purr.

Now Hunter notices the collar on the animal.

"He belongs to someone," he notes.

You nodded with a sigh, "I know I probably can't keep him, but he was wandering around in the woods near here and there was no one around for miles. I was honestly scared out of my wits at first, but he wasn't going to attack me."

Hunter smirks at you, "Talk to Tech, I'm sure he has some ideas on how we can find the owner"

You look at him and ask meekly, "But what if his owner doesn't treat him well?"

"We can't travel with a nexu, Cyare".

You scuff your foot on the ground and tickle the nexu behind the ear.

"I know," you say softly.

Hunter strokes the nexu on the neck, leans in and kisses your cheek.

"I'm sorry, but it's better if we either find the owner or release him into the wild"

"Can I at least show Wrecker before he has to leave again?"

Hunter laughs softly and says, "Sure, I'm sure Wrecker will like the nexu, but don't get any ideas about trying to coax me along with Wrecker"

Echo

"You've got to be kidding me"

Echo stares at you and the nexu next to you.

"Cyare, those things are dangerous".

You shake your head, "Not this one, he's tame and very cuddly".

Echo sighs, "Cuddly, huh?"

You scratch the nexu behind the ears, and it starts purring like a cat.

"See? Why don't you try it?"

Echo says dryly, "No, thanks, I'd rather save my cuddles for you".

You laugh softly, amused.

"It's not dangerous"

"Oh yes it is. He may be tame, but he's not your animal, you don't know if he'll always be this tame or if he'll bite your arm off the next moment."

With a sigh you say, "Okay, I see, I probably won't get to keep him."

"You're kidding. Keep him? No way, sweetheart. I love you and I know you have a heart for all kinds of strays, which is probably why you travel with me and my brothers, but a nexu can't travel with us. Apart from the fact that they are unpredictable, that would not be species appropriate at all".

"Okay, okay…" you say with a heavy heart, "Will you help me find the owner then?"

Echo walks very alertly and carefully past the nexu to get to your side. He kisses your temple and says softly, "Of course, honey".

Wrecker

At first, he gets scared and goes into protective mode, but when you enlighten him, Wrecker is totally thrilled.

"Such a good boy," he says sweetly, scratching the Nexu behind its ear, and the Nexu leans against Wrecker in delight, making purring noises.

You watch the two of them with amusement, knowing that Wrecker has an open heart for strays, just like you. Generally, your beloved giant has a big heart.

He plays fetch with the Nexu, cuddles with him and feeds him too. However, Echo and Hunter agree, the Nexu unfortunately can't stay. Together you are looking for a new decent home for the animal, but give him away only with a very heavy heart.

But in general, Wrecker himself never minds if you bring strays, on the contrary. Sometimes you find strays in need together and take care of them.

Of course, you are not alone on the Marauder, so you usually can't keep the strays. Also, some of the strays are very special and Echo as well as Crosshair are sometimes a bit squeamish. Hunter usually has to put his foot down as the leader, even if he actually likes your efforts.

Tech

"Woah!"

Tech jerks back, startled, and stares at the Nexu and finally at you.

"Cyare, be careful!"

"He's tame Tech!"

He blinks, adjusts his goggles and mutters, "I've heard of tame Nexu, but honestly never seen a tamed one before"

You cuddle the Nexu behind the ear and Tech watches you very closely and carefully as you do so, ready to stun the animal should it lunge at you.

Somewhat nervously, he explains to you, "The Nexu is a feline predator species from the jungle planet of Cholganna that maintains its hunting grounds primarily in forested areas. The aggressive creature is often paraded for entertainment in arenas around the galaxy and is considered particularly dangerous. "

"Interesting. This one is quite sweet, though."

"Possibly, but we should be careful in any case".

You smile, knowing Tech loves to explain things, you ask him, "What else do you know about this species?"

A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth, he loves it when you ask him things.

Tech walks around the animal, pointing at what he explains to you. "The fierce creature has a broad face with a mouth of razor sharp teeth, as well as four red eyes with infrared vision. Beneath the fur, sharp quills are visible along the spine, in tandem with wiry or supple muscles. In addition to the spiked crest, the Nexu has a fork-like tail that helps with balance. Provided the nexu stalks its prey as part of the hunt, it sinks its large curved claws into the flesh. The approach to hunting is highly stealthy. Thus, the nexu first ambushes its victim and then nimbly pounces on the prey. Usually, the cat-like beast sinks its sharp teeth into the victim or shakes it to death. Although the Nexu's slight stature makes it vulnerable to attack, its build still gives it enough speed to make it all the more deadly."

Someone clears their throat behind you, you turn to see Hunter standing there with his arms crossed in front of his chest, "And that's a lot of reasons in addition to a few others I can give you why this beast won't be traveling with us."

Tech smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder, "I'll help you find a good home for him, Cyare."

Crosshair

His hand twitches to his rifle.

"No wait!"

Crosshair hesitates and looks at you piercingly.

"He's not a threat."

The nexu purrs and nuzzles his head against your hand as you cuddle him.

"See?"

Crosshair sighs and slowly relaxes again.

"Another one of your strays?" he asks dryly, putting a toothpick between his lips.

"Yes," you say with a smile.

Crosshair rolls his eyes, he'll probably never get used to you bringing in all kinds of animals all the time. Many of them are rather obnoxious in nature, at least to his sensibilities. This one, however, is interesting even to him.

"I've never seen a tame nexu before," you admit.

Crosshair sighs, reaches out his hand and pats the nexu as well. He smirks and says, "Neither have I, I've never been this close to one before. Fascinating."

For a while you silently pet the animal and the nexu enjoys the attention to the fullest. When you look up again and your gaze crosses with Crosshair's, he says, "Kitten, you know you still can't keep him, right?"

With a heavy sigh, you nod slowly, "I know."

Crosshair rolls the toothpick from side to side of his mouth and says softly, "We'll find him a good home soon. Maybe Tech can help us."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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[sleepyinteractions]

♠️Response to this @/tricks-n-illusions♠️

TW DISTURBING IMAGERY

Lady stood there for a moment after witnessing the death of Calamity, or at least she assumed the spirit was dead thanks to it fading away. Her gaze returned to the fox, thinking quietly to herself as she didn't move an inch away from Silas, seemingly staring into the emotionless mask.

"May she rest in most beautiful garden ever..." She almost bowed her down in respect keeping her hand up to her chest closely as she once more returned gaze to the fox in fact not intimidated by the threats. "You think I am going to squirm and scream too?" She asked bluntly before tilting her head to the other side - she has dealt with enough in her life to answer Silas in face too as she pointed to him back with her small finger a joy in voice escaping her - she moved her hands behind her back to appear more innocent by body language

"Trust me - I ALSO have taken down bigger foxes than you, pup." She said the nickname out of spite - her words we're dripping like venom almost from the fake sweet tone

"You reek of someone who really wants to be loved - something like a rose... Who is so beautiful and wants to be loved by everyone yet you prick anyone that picks you up just to keep yourself safe..."She scoffed, tilting her head to the side now. "And look how that got you here—killed another who tried to help you out and reedem themselves in your eyes..." she stopped the vine from moving any further just making the thorns dig into the foxes skin

"Its funny how creatures like you think that if you will kill the questions - it'll go away like nothing every happened almost like it got…erased…" she said in a fake thoughtful voice tapping her chin for the added act "but yet you get oh so angry when they come in even higher numbers asking same questions - like all the heavy duty job you did before didn't even matter huh?" she said now letting out a sigh dropping the act she simply opened her hands in a shrug as the vines in same beat let go of the fox

Dropping Silas on the ground now as Lady stood now looking down on him instead as she ironically ducked down now tilting her head to the side as a toothly grin manifested back on her face

"You still want to arrange stuff? Time and place? Because I didnt even ask you the question in first place but you killed the spirit who had to answer it." She said mockingly hearing no answer from him the flower sighed as she looked to him "But I dont mind having a little... talk with you ~ " "Well... sadly...I'll take that as my leave-" she finally got up now almost her whole act dropped as she didnt actualy want to bother anymore as her eyes still wandered for moment to Calamity as she let out a sad sigh So much death followed her even if it wasnt her universe

Silas has made a impression of Lady Ombre

[leggerefiore]

Bad Dreams

cw: nightmares, slight fluff at the end, darkrai cyrus

pairing: Cyrus/Reader

first of the spooky time fics, have a nightmare man

🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️🌌🛰☄️

The darkness was consuming.

Nothing seemed to exist here outside of yourself.

It was cold, oppressive, and haunting.

The vast expanse of nothing treaded on forever and forever. No matter how far your feet carried you, the darkness never ceased. There was only a sense of nothingness for an eternity. You could not escape this pitch blackness, no matter how desperate your attempts. The void was all that remained.

Then, you finally woke up.

You were in your room. All the same as you remembered it. Everything around in order and the exact place you had left it. A hand was firmly on your shoulder. You looked up to see someone… You felt unsure as their face was unclear, but you knew them. They were a friend, maybe a family member. Their eyes stared into your own. Something was wrong. They were empty, distant – not quite there. A neutral pull was on their lips as they suddenly pushed you back into the sheets of your bed.

“Stay… Stay here forever,” they spoke quietly yet with a vacant tone, “With me… Please…”

You wanted to scream and shoved them off, but the minute you tried, everything faded once again to the void of nothingness. It was hard to tell which place was worse, honestly. A nightmarish reality or a lack of anything. The urge to curl up and cry was nearly all consuming.

Yet, before you could, something shifted.

A single bright blue eye pierced through the darkness. It landed on you, much too similar to the odd amalgamation of familiar faces had. “Awaken,” a deep voice suddenly spoke.

With that, the nightmare faded.

Hovering over your bed, you saw a man with an unreadable expression. A red scarf laid around his neck, with a dark coat sitting upon his shoulders. You failed to see his legs. “Consider this a kindness,” he spoke sternly. With that, he seemingly faded into the dark shadows of your room, like he had never been there to begin with.

Despite both your racing mind and pulse, you needed to know more.

What had you just experienced?

Many had told you it was simply a nightmare. A confusing one that somehow had bled into your moments after awakening. The man… You noted his features as well as you could in dim lighting. Blue hair, spiked up in a distinct style, with similarly coloured eyes. It was during this near maddening search, which brought you to strange discussions about the occult and otherwise eerie myths, that you found any answers.

Darkrai.

His words haunted you. Consider this a kindness… Letting you awaken? What had he planned? You shuddered at the thought. Had he intended to lock you in that endless void? Why? More answers you needed so desperately.

It was what brought you to a strange group within the region of Sinnoh. They were odd and dressed similarly. You opted not to question their choice in clothing, but rather the information they may hold. Their heads were an odd mix of people, all of whom had dedicated themselves to Darkrai. When you told them of your nightmare, the red-headed one gasped. The blue-haired one shook his head and gave a scrutinising look. It seemed unsure whether they believed you or not.

When you further describe the man after the dream, their doubts appeared to fade. Instead, you were bombarded with questions and demanded to give further details about what you witnessed and felt. It was odd how truly obsessed they seemed to be with the Pitch-Black Pokemon. All three of the heads were obviously utterly enamoured with the creature to an unsettling degree. You shuddered.

Leaving them alone after that as they were likely more trouble than the information could provide, you sought out local legends and folk tales from around the port city that seemed to have many rumours about it. You searched around desperately for any answer. A sailor spoke of his being ravaged with nightmares and unable to awaken until a strange woman appeared to gift them with a feather that ended the fitful rest, yet that was irrelevant to your search it seemed.

It was not until you received a strange card from a desperate man that you found yourself closer to an answer. An inn was where the thing seemed to belong to, allowing you entry to a small room. A man stood, greeted you and saw you to your bed. Somehow, you found yourself crawling under the covers and willing yourself to sleep.

You startled awake on a patch of grass. The smell of sea hung in the air, and the nearby crashing of waves echoed in the air. You shivered as you stared up at the darkened sky. There was no moon to shine above the endlessly twinkling of stars throughout the countless galaxies above. You turned to see a familiar figure standing above you ominously. His gaze was harsh.

“... Why have you come here?” he asked firmly. You felt hysteric. There he was once more. Darkrai. Nothing about him had changed. Scrambling to your feet, you stared at him. Why had you come here? For answers? For clarity? How did you get here? You shook your head.

The strange amalgamation of people from your dream entered your mind. The intensity of his cult, desperate to see him. The obvious hidden location you were in, far away from other people.

“Are you lonely?” you asked him with a tilt of your head. He was terrifying, a being that could will anyone into slumber and haunt them with horror flying visions until they perished. Yet, he would not do that. Everything pointed to the opposite.

He was taken a back, moving a step back from you. “How foolish…” he mumbled, “I gave you a kindness to awaken, and then you chase after me to risk falling back in.” You smiled at him.

“I doubt you want anyone to suffer,” you placed a firm hand on his shoulder, surprising him more, “But you shouldn't suffer either. I'll stay with you.” His eyes went wide, their eerie ethereal glow shimmering within the darkness of the night.

A distinct, unwanted feeling entered the legendary's head that he would not so easily get rid of you.

~

You sighed as you watched the ocean foam fizzle against the rocky sides of the island. The sun was bright in the sky. Groceries were a pain to get out to the island, but the alternative of starving did not sound much more pleasant. Plus, it was good to see other humans now and again, and Cyrus did need his alone time.

Darkrai's name, a human name, was Cyrus. You always found irony in the pokemon of the new moon having a name associated with the sun. You supposed he could be quite consuming like it, though. You stepped off the ship and onto the island proper while waving off the sailor who saw you safely there. The place was eerily quiet, as usual. Nothing else dared live here, after all. Maybe a rare Wingull, but they did not stay long.

You entered the clearing of trees and saw your small camp set up with a smile. Plans for a house were being debated, but until then, you had settled for a nice tent and anything that could run off a generator. Cyrus was knelt down and apparently tinkering with said generator, actually. You sighed. He had a mechanical fascination.

“I'm back,” you declared while placing the bags within the tent. He barely gave a reaction. Walking over to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso and repeated yourself. His eyes darted to you.

“I heard you the first time,” the dark-type replied, “Please, let me go. I am in the middle of something and don't want you to get shocked.” You begrudgingly let him go. Well, not before you pecked a kiss on his shoulder. It was a bit weird dating him, you supposed. Not bad at all, just odd. Getting him to even agree had been difficult, but your persistence always seemed to win out in the end.

“My Cy does love me,” you teased him lightly while sitting in the chair you brought out, “He doesn't want me to get harmed. How sweet.” Cyrus turned to face you with an unamused expression.

“I could trap you within a nightmare again.”

“You won't.”

He sighed.

You were right.

He would not. Unfortunately, you truly had left an impression on him. His self-imposed isolation was brought to an end by your unyielding hands, and now he had unfortunately become charmed by you.

[captaincaptainfisher]

Growth records, entry 9.

The specimen began making it's way back to me in a very strange way.

It's first death was to the jaws of a Tank lizard. I would expect this to instill some kind of hatred... however, he very purposefully found a route towards the ground.

At this moment, he is sitting atop a pole, far above the exact lizard that killed him. It is going insane with frustration, snapping it's jaws at him and attempting to leap up to reach him. It is not working.

Each time it snaps, he flinches, as any creature likely would... but he seems far less afraid of it than I would have expected. It seems I've underestimated him yet again...

...He is on the move again.

I will pause the recording until anything significant happens.

Recording temporarily ends.

...

Recording resumes.

The specimen has discovered something interesting... Something I don't remember being told to him by Spearmaster.

With his new wariness of ceilings, he managed to locate and kill a Dropwig. He took a few bites, then dragged it back to the Tank Lizard and threw the corpse into it's maw.

Why he decided to share food with the previous cause of his death, I do not know... Some form of forgiveness? Perhaps I have yet again underestimated his intelligence...

The lizard made a sound I have never heard before... Quite "cute", almost. When it returned from storing the meat, it was far less aggressive. It and the specimen sat and stared rather peacefully at each other for a few moments. I have the feeling it would still attack if my specimen was within reach, but for now, he is safe.

He is now walking away, seemingly making his way back towards the karma gate. This was an interesting interaction to witness.

Recording temporarily ends.

Recording resumes.

Yet another testament to his intelligence... he is back in the tunnels beneath my structure. He encountered a group of tunnelling Scavs there, a highly aggressive branch of the species. They immediately threatened him, and he quickly offered them his spear. Spearmaster may have taught him about Scav trading, but if that's the case, I'm still impressed he managed to charm his way out of such an aggressive group of creatures.

They traded him a lantern, which has been instrumental to his navigation through the dark tunnels.

He's currently making his way through them... He seems to have found the original path he took out.

He began running once he recognised it... He seems eager to be home. Or perhaps he is just trying to get away from the rain faster. That's more likely it.

He is approaching my structure. He dashed straight past a mimic lizard's lunge in his eagerness to get within my walls... F-for safety, surely. Surely.

He's doing remarkably well at guiding his way through my zero-gravity areas... he still seems shockingly excited, despite the fact he's now safe...he's very close to the entrance. He should be coming back in any second now.

...I'm shaking again... I don't know whAUGH-

[Editor's note: The thump you hear at this point in the audio is the specimen re-entering the room and catapulting himself directly into my puppet. He proceeded to cover my face in slime and slobber for several minutes. It was an unproductive use of my time. But... Not an unwelcome one.]

Recording ends.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Funeral/Cemetery

I got different suggestions for that one, so I went ahead and did something completely else!

Asshole move, I know, but...let's hope nobody hates me all too much.

Characters: Námo & Haleth, Haleth/Caranthir

Words: 1 591

Warnings: Haleth is dead, Caranthir is sad, Erestor is lonely.

(Fic under the cut)

“This is a smidgen exaggerated, isn’t it?” Haleth asked, swirling imaginary wine in a beautifully wrought, entirely immaterial chalice, and nudged the tall, motionless creature by her side in affectionate comradery.

She was gazing at a lone figure, hunched over by grief, standing mutely in front of a stone, silent tears running like streaks of acid across wrath-reddened cheeks.

“These gestures are important to the Children—the First Ones, I mean,” Námo replied in his grave, echoing voice.

The Lord of Mandos could still not really understand how he had ended up in this unique position, but he had to admit that he almost enjoyed the companionship of the stubborn, irreverent soul who had decided to benevolently haunt him.

Like many another haughty, self-assured being, Námo had had to learn that Haleth of the Haladin was not one to be easily displaced or kept back against her will, and so all his exhortations and encouragements—ranging from discreet hints to outright threats—had not yet had any noticeable effect on her.

“By virtue of my life, my sacrifice, and my enduring love,” she had claimed confidently, “I demand the grace of being allowed to meet my beloved at least once more. Do you not empathise with the earnest longings of a wife and mother?”

Women, Námo thought now, not unkindly but definitely bewildered—they truly were something to behold. Lúthien, Andreth, Haleth of the Haladin—he had met his fair share of headstrong female Children, and he never grew weary of their unexpected and outrageous ideas.

“Morifinwë Carnistir is hardly one in whose name I had ever foreseen to be petitioned,” he hummed now as they watched that very Elf through a wavering screen of mist. “Good for him, I guess.”

Námo was generally not in the habit of feeling pity for those who had defied his words and commands, but—having experienced Haleth’s prodigious pig-headedness as well as her sparkling humour and her gruff kindness himself—he could appreciate how terrible it must have been to lose her.

“Oh, Moryo,” she sighed as she witnessed the unwaveringly stone-faced expression of wordless misery on that ever-fair face she had so loved. “Why do you return to that place when you know that I am no longer there?”

It broke her heart to see him thus, fossilised in his grief and robbed of his prodigious sense of purpose, laying down flowers by a moss-covered stone.

The blossoms, she knew, were even more short-lived than she had been, and there would be nobody but him to clean their remains away and replace them with new ones.

“Why bring imminent death to a monument to an irreversible one?” she breathed, reaching out a tendril of her essence as if to breach the fragile barrier between the realm of the living and her temporary abode. “Go and see about that son you’ve sent away.”

Námo did not interrupt her; thinking of his sister’s teachings, he just sat and listened, accepting the burden and instinctive sting of guilt for a loss he had neither caused nor could remedy.

A flash of knowledge entered his mind then, and he gave a muted sigh.

“He’ll die, won’t he?” she said without turning to the guardian of all souls. “He will do something stupid—as he’s wont to do—and he’ll perish. Will he suffer greatly?”

Hesitating for a moment—a rarity where Námo was concerned—he finally decided that she was strong enough to hear the truth.

“Yes,” he replied gently. “They all will as they all must. Rejoice though, Haleth of the Haladin, for soon he shall be by your side once more. May you give him the peace and closure he has been seeking for so long.”

When he had spoken his doom, Námo had been acutely aware of all that the exiles would sacrifice, destroy, and lose, but he had never considered what they would find.

Seeing the devastating, soul-crushing distress and desolation in Morifinwë’s fair face now, he wondered if this—having known plenty and pleasure only to have it run through their fingers like sand—was not the worst punishment, far beyond being severed from their kin, people, and the Blessed Realm.

“My son,” she then said. “Show me the blessed child I’ve carried in my feeble body, protected by the flimsy defence of brittle ribs and friable flesh.”

“As you wish,” Námo whispered, swirling a pale, long-fingered hand in the darkness of his own making and conjuring up the wavering image of a young Peredhel.

A lonely boy, he thought, as he glanced upon that serious, solemn mien and the irrepressibly proud bearing of one who had never been taught to laugh freely.

Those who had left these shores in anger and dismay, mere children following the folly of yet another clueless orphan, had at least had the support and solace of their siblings and cousins.

This one, going by the name of Erestor, had nobody but himself.

“This,” Haleth whispered, aggrieved, “is our fault. Neither Moryo nor I were exceedingly outgoing, and making friends was always exceedingly hard.”

“He has lost much when he lost the both of you,” Námo murmured, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Take this as a token of my gratitude for your friendship, you wrothful, wilful child—your son will do great things. In time, he will find friendship and even love beyond the misery that has tinged your every happy moment.”

Had she possessed eyes to weep, Haleth might well have shed enough tears to bring Lord Ulmo to the Halls of Mandos.

Looking through the wondrous screen of mist and illusion once more, her whole essence shivered at the unchanged, immobile, petrified picture of hardened, weaponised grief.

“He has been so tender,” she whispered, as much to herself as to her companion. “Moryo was an excellent storyteller, an exceptional mathematician, and a marvel with thread and needle—surely, you can appreciate that talent in a spouse. I wish that I could have saved him.”

Suppressing both a sardonic chuckle and an aggrieved moan, Námo inclined his veiled head to her.

“You may take a sword and use it to cut your wood and meat, calling it a domestic comfort and a cherished item of intimate bliss and protection, but that does not change the fact that it is a weapon still. Long before you or any of your forefathers were born, he has been forged into a weapon, and all the love on either side of the ocean could not change that.”

“Will it ever be so?” she asked mournfully.

“No,” he admitted, casting his mind into a vague, ever-shifting future. “No, I believe not. For now, however, there is nought either one of us can do for him—Morifinwë must walk the bitter path he was set upon until he returns to our grace.”

She nodded, for she understood that there were things beyond her imagination and knowledge—Haleth, wise and rational, had come to make her peace with that fact a long time ago.

“What about the boy? Will he resent us forever?”

Again, Námo took his time—weighing the dolour of the past against the hope of the future—before laying an astonishingly heavy, solid hand on her incorporeal shoulder.

“Your life was short and ruled by terror and war,” he then said kindly. “Many things you have never learned, and it’s not for me to tell you about them, but—and you may hold that against them or praise them for it once you meet them—a few of the kinspeople of your beloved have shared a similarly deplorable fate.”

Haleth was exuding confusion and irritated frustration at those cryptic words of semi-prophecy.

“Your son shall,” Námo explained, toeing the line of what was permitted or even recommended to share with her, “very soon indeed, find people who share the resentful longing for heroes and criminals of a past they cannot shake. If he has but a fraction of your inner strength and obstinacy, he will learn to untangle his puerile disappointment from deeper, more complicated feelings and, with luck, even draw the right conclusions from the losses he has endured.”

Still, she could not truly make sense of the words that pierced her like bright blades and left her soul aching and bleeding with yearning.

“He is not the only Peredhel, Haleth,” Námo whispered into her ear. “And he is certainly not the only one to have loved and lost cherished role models and parents who forthwith are painted as villains by a people who need to look ahead lest the mistakes of the past devour all of them alive.”

“Does he—does he even remember us?”

“Nobody will ever forget you—for better or for worse—my dear little one,” Námo laughed, earnest amusement dancing in his weightless voice. “Not he, not the Valar, not the generations to come.”

The wavering image of Morifinwë Carnistir—Caranthir the Dark—faded into the abyss once more, and Haleth gave a choked sob of boundless anguish.

“I would say that it has begun, but…it shall end.” Wrapping his cloak around her shivering form, flickering like a dying candle, Námo held her close. “They will arrive soon—the first of the seven—for something in their soul tells them that they are being called back.”

An idea crossed his mind then. “Come,” he said, “let’s visit my wife. I want to tell you of Gondolin, and of the marvellous succour that may yet arise from the ashes of a doomed city.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

[stories-of-kore]

Camp Krell - chapter 1, part 2

So I ran. 

I kept running, for whatever this sick snake-monster thing was wanted to toy with me, wanted to chase me. To play with my life, like I was some pet to it. I broke through the tree-line into camp, panting as I fell onto the paved ground that cut a clear line between camp Krell and the Krellden woods… directly at the feet of my best friend Kaffeyne. She took one glance at my disheveled state and picked me up, dragging me back to our cabin. Terrifying. I mean, I was already shaken up by that whole chase, and now my usually bubbly best friend was bandaging wounds I didn’t even know I had with a silent glare on her face? 

We sat in silence for what felt like hours, though likely it was just a few minutes, and my mind was messing with me, still scared out of my mind from the encounter in the forests. “Why did you accept the dare?” Her soft voice snapped me out of my dazed zone out. 

“Huh?” 

“The dare. Why the hell did you let Elaine provoke you like that? The Krell nearly killed your stupid ass from what I see!” 

“What the hell is the Krell...? Wait… what do you mean ‘from what I can see, Kaff?” She didn’t respond. She just picked up her makeup bag and handed me a small mirror. What I saw nearly made me throw up then and there. Actually, I might have thrown up, those few moments are still hazy. Around my neck was a sickly green mark, spanning over my skin in every spot the creature had touched. It held a distinct pattern that looked so much like scales, but reaching up, as I placed my hand on it, I still felt my skin. I know I definitely threw up then. 

I don’t know how long it took me to recover from seeing that stain on my skin. Kaffeyne was kind enough to cover up the cabin’s mirrors so I wouldn’t have to see it again, but it still jarred me. This woodland monster - which Kaff had told me was called the Krell - left permanent stains on its victims? So, everyone could see the mark? I was quickly devolving into a panic as to how I could cover this mark without looking like ‘the idiot in a turtleneck at a summer camp’. Once again, my best friend was the one to snap me from my panic. She seemed to be doing that a lot… 

“Hey, stop panicking idiot. The only people who can see the mark are others who’ve survived being touched by the Krell too. You don’t have to bust out the scarves just yet.” 

Her words brought me both comfort and confusion. If only the Krell’s surviving victims could see the mark, that meant…

“You’ve faced it too?”

“Yeah no shit Sherlock, you remember the year I left camp early? I was hospitalised from my encounter with the Krell. That’s why I’ve been trying to keep you and everyone else at camp away from the forest, dumbass!”

“Then… where’s your mark..? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to share, I just…”

“It’s fine, it’s on my hands. I kind of… well, I may or may not have punched it very hard to get away..?” 

“Kaffeyne, have I told you how much you scare me sometimes?”

“You can’t blame me Tamashi, fight or flight reactions and all that.”

“Kaff, there’s a difference between ‘fight or flight’ and literally punching the demonic entity trying to kill you!”

“Says the one who willingly took the dare to go directly into the Krell’s territory!”

“It was either me or you, Kaffeyne! I did it so I wouldn’t lose you again!”

She fell silent at my outburst. 

“I saw how hurt you were when they found you at the edge of the woods. It hurt me far worse  than any of these stupid cuts and bruises I got from that… thing to witness the person I care about most injured. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant you were unharmed.”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Yooo askbox open :]

Could I get a Castlevania matchup, one female and one male character? I am fine with poly, and also the more background characters :]

I'm a bisexual guy. Once I'm past my initial `terrified of everything' and 'extremely withdrawn' phase of anxiety, I'm very energetic (though not very loud) and flirty. l love all fields of science, especially mathematics and physics. Very nerdy/ geeky, and I also paint and practice

l have a very impulsive and ADHD -type of humor, though it always takes me a moment to recognize any word-play. I'm very much a thrill-seeker, and things that tend to make other's squeamish don't bother me in the slightest. I suppose for the sake of the series, gore and acts of sadism don't really phase me, at least, to the extent that I am a spectator.

A/N: Okay for you, my Flirty, ADHD-Humor Anon, I think your best Castlevania matches would be Godbrand (Male) and Greta (Female)! [Note: The writer of this ask dmed me specifically to say they were fine with more minor/background characters, just in case you were wondering how I ended up choosing these two for them.]

Godbrand, believe it or not, would be a great match for you! He is very energetic, and flirty when he wants to be. Well, he tries to be flirty, but more often than not he comes off as kind of an ass, but that’s just part of his charm!

As a Viking and a sailor, Godbrand has a particular interest in science, mostly astronomy, and geography, but he enjoys listening to all the knowledge you’re willing to share about mathematics and physics. Despite what you may think, Godbrand is rather intelligent. He may be brash and lack tact, but he does pay attention to the emotions and behaviors of others. Every once in a while his arrogance gets in the way, but for a vampire, he’s rather attuned to the mental state of those around him. 

I think he’d pick up on your impulsive tendencies and ADHD-type humor fairly quickly, although that may not be a good thing, as he can be rather impulsive himself lol. The both of you are thrill seekers, so neither one of you is there to act as the stubborn voice of reason in all the escapades the two of you get up to. It drives all the others crazy, but neither you nor Godbrand pay them any mind. 

Godbrand loves to show off all his combat skills to you, and he is so glad you don’t run away screaming when he demonstrates how he takes down a five-man human army all by his lonesome. He wants to show just how strong and capable he is as a mate, and this is his way of doing so. (It’s kinda sexy if we’re being honest lol.)

Godbrand will ask you to bear witness to his prowess, and then paint him something that captures his essence. You’re gonna need A LOT of red paint for such a scene. 

As an INTJ you balance out his ESTP. You tend to be on the introverted intellectual side where he’s all about the immediate action. You are a great value to him, especially in how you can talk over his ideas, and help him think about them in a more nuanced way. You’re impulsive as well, but also an analyst at your core, so you are all for cheering him on: it’s just that you want him to go forward most successfully. 

Who knows? The two of you together might have even changed the course of S2. Godbrand would want to act on Dracula’s noncommittal attitude, and you’d be the perfect partner to talk out a well-thought-out plan with. Instead of brashly confronting Isaac with his half-cooked idea of betrayal, perhaps the two of you as a team could have spoken to Dracula, and see if you could change his viewpoint on erasing all the humans and vampires of the world. 

Greta is also a great choice as a partner for you because she’s smart and no-nonsense, but also wise enough to appreciate the energy and zest you have for life! 

Greta is quite understanding in your, as you called it, ‘terrified-of-everything’ phase of anxiety. In a world full of creatures who are constantly trying to kill you, who in the hells wouldn’t be? So many of her people live with the same anxiety and fear, and as their leader, she feels responsible for reassuring them all will be well. She knows what you need to hear to calm down, and she understands this is something you need to undergo to take any next steps.

She is drawn to your energy, and how flirty you are. She, being the self-assured woman she is, flirts right back. Your fire is a welcome addition to her otherwise very realistic, sort of strict outlook on life. 

She’s a leader, she needs control. She manages everyone, and it’s a difficult job. To make things easier rules and orders that are put in place. You on the other hand are impulsive, and rowdy at times. You challenge the stubborn rule-follower in her and push her to be more spontaneous and to accept the things she cannot control or change. This is also very much in line with your MBTI types, with you an INTJ, and her an ESTJ. 

You’re similar enough to have a great understanding of one another, but just opposite enough to push a little where they pull. Greta challenges you to stay grounded, and to think ten steps ahead, to consider the logical consequences of potential actions. 

She appreciates your love for science. Science is the future after all, and her people will need all the knowledge they can get if they are to advance their lifestyles and survive. 

The fact that both of you enjoy a good thrill is great and very much necessary in this universe. She understands you’re not keen on combat, but not everyone is. She’s just very grateful you aren’t constantly breaking down or throwing up when you catch a glimpse of her spearing a night creature through the middle. It would be very disheartening for her to protect the love of her life and be met with only fear and disgust. 

The other trait you share is that both of you are freakishly nonchalant at times. Night Creatures? Eh. Attempted murder? Eh. Vampires? Eh. It’s all just another Tuesday for you, and so long as you have each other, you figure the both of you will end up just fine.

[papacopia-crucified]

Heya. Since you all like my first bat!Copia fic and sent me some heart warming comments and messages, I fell that I cannot let you all down. ❤️❤️ thank you so much ❤️🦇

After Dark pt. 2

🦇🦇🦇

It was a busy week, but not just for you but for Copia too. Me made some mayor changes. His wing finally healed to your joy and he seemed happy too. Always cuddling with your rat Penelope, and it was just so cute. It was finally Saturday morning, cause you finished another long night shift.

“Good morning guys.” You greeted your two favourite companion and that’s when you realised that Copia was gone. You immediately started to panic and checked the window in your room, it was slightly opened, to your uttermost horror.

“Oh… no. No. No. No. Please no!” You went to look after him everywhere in your flat, but he was nowhere, did he flew away from you?

“You’re such a fool (y/n), you cannot prison him here all for his life.” You just happy that he’s fully healed. After all that you went back to check on Penelope, who was peacefully drinking and when she looked at you, you saw something in her eyes, like she was sad.

“Ohh. My poor girl. You miss Copia too? Yeah me too. He was so adorable.” You get her out of the aquarium and placed her on your chest, hugging her close. She burred her little head into you, while you sat down on your bed and sighed.

“I guess it’s just the two of us again.” Your head hit the pillow, Penelope laid down by your side, just resting. As you closed your eyes you felt your eyelids close and your world faded away.

In your dream you opened your eyes. You were not home anymore but I’m the woods. You instantly sat up and you saw that you were indeed in the woods sitting on the ground which was surprisingly warm to the touch. In the distance you heard chanting, it may be Latin so you got up and followed the sound. As you approached the spot you saw that the clothes you wore changed into a crisp white dress, floor length, almost transparent, what made you blush, wore no shoes and a veil or something like that caged your head. You also noticed that a upside down cross necklace was in your neck, and you knew immediately what it was. It was a Ghost necklace, you wore once, but unfortunately lost it years ago. As you were close to the chanting, you stopped to hide behind a tree, only your face what was still visible. And that’s when you saw a group of…….nuns?

“I. Papa Emeritus the Fourth, Child of the night, shall receive the blood of the Unholy Gods Under.”

“And I. Vlad Tepes the Third, Father of all children of the night, Impaler of enemies, The immortal Dracul shall give you my blood, to be the creature who brings chaos and darkness into the World of mankind. You shall receive my blood, to spread my word.” You cannot believe what you seen at that moment. Dracula is real? As you witnessed the ceremony you felt a sudden pull to Papa Emeritus.

“Now to begin with the ceremony, I’d have to drain almost all of your blood, Papa Emeritus the Fourth, and after that you shall drink mine, to close the circle, and to make you my apprentice, my descendant. Do you accept that?” Papa kneeled down in front of his and bared Vlad his neck.

“I accept my Lord.”

“Your body needs to die, your consciousness will remain. Do not fret Papa. It’ll take only minutes, and after that you’ll wake up as one of my kind.” Vlad leaned into Papa’s neck and closed his eyes, after his fangs shoot out and bit down on Papa’s neck. An agonising moan left Papa’s mouth as he grabbed onto Tepes’ arms. His eyes rolled into his skull, as Vlad drink almost all of the blood out of his body. Your body shivered, and you almost felt the fangs enter your neck too. The nuns started to chant something again, it’s Latin, you felt sudden dizziness, headache and nausea. Vlad stopped drinking from Papa’s neck and he fell to the grass, almost lost all consciousness.

“And now Papa Emeritus the Fourth, receive my blood, become the creature of the night.” Tepes sliced his skin with his long and sharp nail and blood dropped onto the floor. He took it to Papa’s mouth and he latched onto it, drinking the warm liquid. Vlad tossed his head back in pain? You did not know, but sure it was weird to see. He looked into your way and you hid your body behind the tree. After a while you went to see what’s happening but Tepes was gone, only Papa was waking up from the ground, sitting.

“There you are Lady (y/n). We have been waiting for you.” He smiled blood dried oh his lips, his hand stretched out for you to take. And you did. He led you out of your hiding spot and approached the still intoxicated Papa. That’s when you realised that what he had become.

“Vampire?”

“We better like it the creature of the night Love. I knew I chose well. And now, we shall crown the new Prime Mover of Papa Emeritus IV. Lady (Y/N) Tepes. My child, daughter of a human, daughter of an immortal.” Your eyes widened at his words.” Do not fret my child. It’s your destiny.” Your dad was sure he’s doing the right thing. You looked over to Papa who was now standing in front of the two of you, his eyes fixated on you. Looking into your eyes and you felt your heart flutter.

“Papa.” It slipped out of your mouth like a prayer.

“Lady (Y/N).” He said in a raspy voice

“I see you’re awakened fully. Now to seal the marriage you Papa have to drink from her.”

“What?”

“My daughter. You chose Papa Emeritus to be yours so I shall give you that dream, but he must……..”

“Vampires!!!” You heard sudden shouting, and felt sudden pain from where your heart was. You only hear Papa as he shouts and catches you in his arms. He sats down with you, holding you close.

“This will hurt love.” He said and with his remaining energy grabbed the arrow which pierced through your lung and tossed it aside. Blood started to flee from the wound and you looked at your Papa.

“Please don’t waste it. Drink from me.” You showed him your neck and he was hesitant.

“I…. I don’t want to it to hurt… cara mia.” He stroke your cheek and you grabbed his hand.

“Please.”

“Alright amore mio.” You sat up and hugged him, also baring him your neck, which he bit down on shortly after.

“Ahh…” you moaned out, not because of pain but because of pleasure, heard every gulp while he drink your remaining blood. He sensed that you’ll pass soon and stopped.

“I…. Ti amo, mia dolcezza. Remember me.” He said and kissed your already cold lips.

You suddenly woke up in a cold sweat, checking your surroundings, you saw that Penelope was still next to you, still sleeping peacefully. It was late afternoon, almost dark outside. And you just processed what had happened in your dream.

“Oh my Satanas Penelope. You cannot believe what I dreamed of….”

And that night you told every little detail about your dream to Penelope,listened to all of your words.

Little did you know that your favourite Papa’s watching you from afar. Still in his bat form, waiting for the perfect moment to meet you again.

Oh boy. There it is part 2. I genuinely don’t know what I’m doing😂😂 but if hope you like it🤭❤️

🦇🦇🦇

[haydenigmatic]

Could you write down the RO's reaction to seeing the MC almost turning into a dragon when he got extremely angry? As the continuation of this text:

"As RO opens the door curious to the MC's sudden screams of fury, they see the same shouting at a nobleman.

-The big idiot! Do you have the slightest idea what you just did?! I should destroy your hose, your lands and make sure your entire family lives in the most terrible misery for the rest of their existence for this!

The reason for their fury is unknown, but the result is easily seen, the MC doesn't seem to realize what is happening to their own body anymore, their height increases to the point where they had to bend their spine to be able to see the nobleman in front of them, their muscles can no longer be contained by the outfit, that must have been worth mountains of gold to be made, are now being torn apart, their eyes are no longer human and look like that of a reptile, their fingernails grow longer and begin to appear like claws, scales begin to appear on their body, their teeths become fangs and every second their screams sound like roars. The noble falls to the ground in utter fear and the MC doesn't look like they are going to stop soon. The RO knows they must stop this before the MC destroy the whole place."

Well do expect a long answer 😂

VERENA:

As Verena opens the door to the MC's sudden screams of fury, her eyes widen in shock and disbelief at the sight before her. The once composed and collected MC is now transformed into a creature of rage and power, almost turning into a dragon in the height of their anger. Her first instinct is to step back, her heart racing as she tries to process what she is witnessing.

Despite the shocking display of the MC's transformation, Lady Verena's strategic mind quickly kicks into gear. She recognizes the danger of the situation, not only to the nobleman at the receiving end of the MC's wrath but also to the entire place. The chaos that could ensue if the MC loses control is a potential disaster that she must avert.

However, beneath her calculated exterior, Lady Verena feels a surge of concern and fear for the MC. She has never seen them like this before, and the intensity of their anger both intrigues and frightens her. The sight of the MC almost turning into a dragon raises questions about their true nature and abilities, something she never expected to witness.

Despite her feelings, Lady Verena knows that she must act quickly to diffuse the situation. With a steely resolve, she steps forward and calls out to the MC, her voice firm but laced with a hint of concern. "MC, enough! You must calm yourself. Losing control like this will not solve anything."

As the MC's roars begin to subside, Lady Verena takes a calculated risk and approaches them cautiously. She reaches out to touch their arm gently, attempting to ground them and bring them back to their human form. "Listen to me, my love. Breathe and focus. You are more powerful than you realize, but you must control this rage. I am here with you, and together, we can handle whatever has angered you."

Her words are a delicate balance of reassurance and authority, reflecting her understanding of the MC's emotions while asserting her own presence as a guiding force in their life. Lady Verena knows that this is a pivotal moment, and how she handles the situation may shape their future together.

In this moment of crisis, Lady Verena's protective instincts and genuine affection for the MC shine through. She is determined to be a stabilizing force for them, even in the face of their uncontrollable anger and unexpected transformation. As she stands by their side, she hopes that her presence can help them find the strength to regain control and prevent any further harm from befalling them or those around them.

NESRIN:

As Nesrin opens the door, her curiosity gives way to shock and concern at the sight that unfolds before her. The MC, engulfed in a fit of uncontrollable rage, appears to be on the verge of transforming into a dragon-like creature. While she has witnessed their anger before, this level of fury and its visible effect on the MC's physical form is entirely unprecedented.

The rational and strategic part of Nesrin's mind races to comprehend the situation. She knows that allowing the MC to fully transform could have catastrophic consequences, both for them and for those around them. As her heart pounds with worry, she quickly assesses the situation, recognizing that she must intervene before the situation escalates any further.

Pushing aside her own fear, Nesrin steps forward with a steady and commanding presence. She speaks in a firm but gentle tone, attempting to catch the MC's attention amidst their rage.

"MC, stop! You don't want to do this. You're stronger than this anger, and you're in control," Nesrin implores, hoping that her words can reach the MC in their enraged state.

Her eyes never leave the MC, searching for any signs of recognition or connection. She tries to draw on their bond, hoping that the love and affection they share can serve as a lifeline to anchor the MC back to their human form.

As the nobleman cowers in fear, Nesrin's protective instincts kick in. She stands between him and the MC, acting as a barrier to prevent any further harm. Her mind races, considering all the possible approaches to de-escalate the situation without further provoking the MC.

Nesrin knows that time is of the essence. She must find a way to help the MC regain control of their emotions and prevent them from fully transforming. She reaches into her vast repertoire of strategic skills, searching for the right words and actions to soothe the MC's anger and guide them back to a calmer state.

In this high-stakes moment, Nesrin's love for the MC shines through. Despite the danger and chaos surrounding them, she remains resolute in her determination to protect the person she holds dear. As she navigates this dangerous situation, Nesrin's heart races with a mix of fear, love, and unwavering commitment to do whatever it takes to keep the MC safe and ensure their shared future.

ODETTE:

As Odette opens the door and witnesses the MC's transformation into a dragon-like form, her initial reaction is one of shock and disbelief. Her eyes widen in astonishment as she takes in the sight before her, unable to fathom what she's witnessing. The anger and fury displayed by the MC are unlike anything she's seen before, and the sudden metamorphosis terrifies her.

Despite her fear, Odette's compassion and love for the MC push her to action. She knows she must act quickly to prevent any further damage and to ensure the safety of those around them. With a mix of determination and concern, she steps forward, calling out to the MC in a soothing yet firm voice.

"MC, please, you must calm down," she implores, her voice laced with urgency. "Take a deep breath and focus on me. I am here, and I won't let anything harm you or anyone else. Please, come back to yourself."

Odette's heart aches as she witnesses the anguish in the MC's eyes and the uncontrollable transformation taking place. She understands that something must have triggered this extreme reaction, but her immediate priority is to bring the MC back to their human form and quell the powerful rage that consumes them.

She takes a tentative step closer, cautious not to startle the MC further. Her presence is meant to offer comfort and reassurance, a reminder of the love they share and the bond they have built together. Odette gently reaches out, her hand trembling slightly, and places it on the MC's arm, seeking a physical connection that might anchor them to the present.

"You're not alone in this, my love," she continues, her voice soft and steady. "I'm here with you, and I'll help you through this. Together, we'll find a way to manage these overwhelming emotions. Trust in us, in our love."

Odette's focus is solely on the MC, blocking out the fear and chaos around them. She knows that it is essential to reach the core of the MC's turmoil and guide them back to a state of calm. She doesn't fear the dragon-like appearance; instead, she feels a profound sense of determination to protect the MC from any harm, physical or emotional.

In that moment, Odette's love for the MC shines brightly, providing a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of the situation. Her unwavering support and affection become a beacon, calling the MC back from the brink of uncontrollable rage. She clings to the belief that their love is stronger than any transformation or external force, and she will do everything in her power to bring her beloved back to her side.

JASIRA:

Jasira's reaction to witnessing the MC almost turning into a dragon due to their extreme anger is a mix of shock, concern, and a strong sense of protective instinct.

As she opens the door to the sudden screams of fury, her eyes widen in disbelief at the sight before her. The MC, who she knows so well, is no longer recognizable in their current state of rage. The physical transformation is alarming and unprecedented, and she can feel the intensity of their anger vibrating in the air.

Despite the shock, Jasira's protective instincts kick in immediately. She knows that she must intervene before the situation escalates further and the MC causes irreparable damage. Her heart races as she quickly assesses the scene and realizes the nobleman's grave mistake that triggered this transformation.

With her strong-willed and fearless nature, she steps forward, her voice firm and commanding. "MC, that's enough!" she shouts, attempting to break through the haze of anger that seems to have engulfed the MC. "You can't let your rage control you like this!"

Jasira's words are filled with concern and determination. She refuses to back down, even in the face of the powerful and intimidating presence before her. She knows that she must be strong for the MC in this moment of vulnerability.

As she continues to speak to the MC, her eyes lock with theirs, trying to convey a sense of grounding and connection. Her goal is to anchor them to reality, to remind them of who they are and the strength of their love. Jasira's own heart is pounding with worry, but she channels that fear into a resolute determination to protect the MC and those around them.

She reaches out a hand, gently but firmly, trying to break the cycle of rage and bring the MC back from the brink. "Listen to me," she implores, her voice softer now but no less determined. "You are not alone. I am here with you. We will face this together."

Jasira's presence serves as a guiding light for the MC, a beacon of strength and support. In that moment of vulnerability, she showcases her unwavering love and her fierce loyalty. She knows that it is not easy for the MC to be seen in such a state, but she refuses to let them face it alone.

As the nobleman cowers in fear, Jasira's protective nature is on full display. She stands between the MC and the nobleman, making it clear that she will not allow anyone to harm the person she loves. Her voice is steady, and her eyes blaze with determination as she makes it known that the MC is under her protection.

Through her actions and words, Jasira plays a crucial role in bringing the MC back from the edge of their anger-induced transformation. Her presence is a lifeline, grounding the MC and reminding them of their humanity and their connection to others.

In this moment of crisis, Jasira's love and strength shine brightly, showcasing her unwavering commitment to the MC and her willingness to do whatever it takes to protect and support them. As they eventually calm down and return to their normal state, she holds them close, reassuring them of her love and presence.

Together, they face the aftermath of the intense emotions, and Jasira remains a steadfast and devoted partner. Throughout this harrowing experience, she proves that her love knows no bounds, and she will stand by the MC's side through every storm and challenge that comes their way.

SORIN:

As Sorin opens the door and witnesses the MC's sudden transformation into what seems to be a dragon-like creature, her eyes widen in shock and concern. The intensity of the MC's fury is overwhelming, and the physical changes in their body are unlike anything she's ever seen. Despite her own experiences with self-control and resilience, she can't help but be taken aback by the sheer force of the MC's anger.

In that moment, Sorin's instinct to protect kicks in, and her mind races to find a way to calm the situation before it escalates further. She knows that if the MC continues in this state, the consequences could be catastrophic, and she can't bear to witness the potential destruction that might follow.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she steps closer to the MC, trying to get their attention amid the fury. Her voice is steady, though tinged with urgency, as she addresses them, "Hey, [MC's name], it's me, Sorin. You need to take a deep breath and find your center. This isn't you, and I know you don't want to let your anger consume you like this."

Sorin's eyes never leave the MC, her focus solely on trying to connect with them and bring them back from the brink. She draws on all the empathy and understanding she has developed through their time together, hoping to remind the MC of the strength and control they possess within themselves.

Despite her own fears, Sorin remains composed and determined. She knows that panicking or showing her own distress won't help the situation. Instead, she channels her inner strength to stay by the MC's side and provide a sense of stability and reassurance.

As the MC's screams of fury start to subside, Sorin continues to speak softly but firmly, "You are in control, [MC's name]. You can reign in this anger. Remember who you are, the person I've come to know and care for. Breathe with me, focus on your breath, and let the rage subside."

Sorin's soothing words, coupled with her unwavering support, create a lifeline for the MC to grasp onto amidst the storm of emotions. Slowly, the transformation begins to recede, and the MC's features return to their human form.

As the MC gradually regains control, Sorin wraps her arms around them in a comforting embrace, assuring them that she's there and that they're safe. In that moment, she feels an even deeper sense of connection to the MC, knowing that she can be a source of solace and strength for them, even in the face of their most intense emotions.

The nobleman's fear has turned to awe and gratitude, realizing the RO's calming presence prevented a disaster. Sorin glances at the nobleman, offering a subtle nod of acknowledgment before returning her focus to the MC. She knows that while this encounter may have been a frightening ordeal, it has also highlighted the immense bond they share and the power of love and understanding to anchor them both in even the most turbulent of moments.

This will be part 1, part 2 will include the RO's that are missing her, I'll just update this post when done, It could be in the next couple of days or so.

[irrealis-mood]

Getting Into Knives (Final Choice)

Crossposted from AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49311451

(You can't give me back what you've taken/But you can give me something that's almost as good)

The final meeting of Cazador and Astarion. Astarion makes a choice, and Eustace is a witness. Spoilers for Astarion's personal quest/ Act 3 of Baldur's Gate 3, and TW for violence. May continue this at a later date.

-

They see the potential for power in him, have seen it from the beginning. Astarion has always been a viper, a slick-fanged creature all slanted smiles, and when snakes are hurt, the venom comes to the front of the tooth.

Standing beside him, Eustace can practically feel the vibrant fury seeping from his every pore, can taste the coming storm of violence as sweet as petrichor on their tongue. They touch the death-mark on the back of their neck, more to soothe themself than to draw on the power of the divine.

Cazador stands before them, resplendent in red and black, lording over his dungeon’s depths. The thralls which came to their camp mere nights ago are already held in place by arcane bonds, ready to further the Black Mass, but Astarion pays them no heed. His focus is on the vampire lord before him, the emblem of his two hundred torturous years, and his fingers twitch at his rapier. He is seconds from his resolve fraying and driving headlong into the man--no, not a man anymore but a creature--before him, damned be the cost. 

Eustace sends their vision down the parasite bond to him, doing their best to rein him back; the icy nothingness of the grave awaits anyone who dares go forth without thought. 

Astarion steps back, once, twice, but his eyes burn bright red in reflection of his former master’s magic.

“So this is our prodigal son, come at last,” the man finally croons.

His voice hits Astarion like a knife to the chest. After weeks of not hearing it, not being forced to listen, being practically free from his bonds, here it is again. He feels like a child, like some sort of feral animal, like an insect about to be crushed by a boot. His shoulders curl, at once ready to pounce and cower. 

“Do not slouch, boy! Have I taught you nothing? Have you no self-respect?”

His back straightens for a fraction of a second before he catches himself. 

“You should be begging for your family’s forgiveness, on your knees, after what you have done. Abandoning the poor wretches you kept as siblings, and your master--” Cazador’s voice raises higher, nasal, disgusted.

“I owe you nothing,” Astarion spits. “Forgiveness? Hardly, after how you treated me. Treated all of us. Punishing us for the slightest error, torturing us, carving blasphemy into our skin.” 

“It made you stronger, but not strong enough. Never strong enough. Despite how hard I worked to perfect you, you have not met my expectations. Piteous thing.”

The rage roils up again in him, tangible. It would be easy to give into blind fury, to make a sudden swing of his rapier, or a dagger, rend his skin even for a moment-- but before he can dash ahead, before his hand can even grasp his weapon, Eustace steps forth from next to him.

As ever, they radiate frigid calm, but Astarion knows that beneath it they’re as angry as he is. The evening talks they’d had over the weeks speak to that fact. Eustace had joked about flaying Cazador alive when he had first spoken of his master, all the while sharpening the bone dagger they kept at their side. How many nights had passed since the day they spoke of the webs fate spun for them, the un-lives they both were chained to? What had they said, when they told him of their own secrets?

“I would want, for once in my life, to have a hand in my own fate.”

And his hand seeks to change his own, so very badly.

Eustace continues their slow walk forward, dark eyes glinting in the light of the mage-lit thuribles, and when they speak, it is with a tone he isn’t sure he’s ever heard from them. Some power, some resonance that is unfamiliar to his ears, but from the corner of his eye, Astarion sees Shadowheart stiffen and brace for a fight..

“You have escaped death for centuries, Cazador Szarr, while visiting myriad horrors on this city, this world. So too, have you escaped justice.”

“What is this, boy, that you allow to speak for you? A cattle that professes justice? What disrespect you have brought into my home, and yet, I should not be surprised.”

“I am a bringer of no law but the divine ending, the completion of a cycle. You are due.” Eustace says simply, and draws their blade.

“I gave you everything, and yet, that did not suffice. I will wring your body free of insolence with my bare hands, and when you are bound and broken, you will burn in the divinity of my ascension!” Cazador’s voice echoes off the dungeon’s walls and falls into the chasms below him. Before he can entrap Astarion’s in his arcane lock, in the fraction of a moment, Eustace pushes the pale elf backwards, so he falls among the rank and file of his fellow companions. He readies his rapier, tips it with poison just for luck.

At once, crowds of bats fly screeching towards them, horrible abominations of wolves leap from their stations and make to pounce, Cazador fades into a red mist-- Astarion’s compatriots leap to the ready, spears and arrows and daggers lining up in defence.

And calm, quiet Eustace, Eustace who can stop an argument with a dark look and a quiet word, Eustace who has never met a battle they can’t strategize around, is stepping to the front of the line, before Astarion--

Necromantic energy pulses out of them in torrents of icy waves, eyes black as when they faced Ketheric Thorm, knuckles white enough to echo the bone dagger in their hand. They walk, and then they run, hurling spells with barely a whisper. Karlach leads the charge of the rest of them, screaming bloody murder as she frenzies, and the rest fall into alignment like a well oiled machine. Astarion can’t help but be swept up in the battle tide, slashing any creature coming close; the bloodlust, the promise of sweet vengeance fills his head, as he howls and plunges dagger and rapier into the oncoming storm. The day is here, and it is his, and he will win .

-

When Cazador retreats to his sarcophagus to regenerate himself, Astarion rips off the stone lid with a strength he wasn’t aware he possessed; throws the vampire lord to the ground and relishes the hiss of furious pain he hears.

“Get your hands off me, you pathetic worm.” Cazador grits out, but Astarion mocks his hateful words with a quick retort of his own, and comes to stand over the man’s body. 

Eustace stands meters back, watching with an inscrutable gaze as Astarion rounds on his former master. 

“I can kill you. I can do it here and now, and finally, I’ll be free of your torment. I won’t have to be afraid of you ever again. And if I take your place, I’ll be free of fear entirely. I’ll have the world at my beck and call.” he says, ragged.

“You idiot child, do you think I could let anyone usurp me? Those scars of yours mean you’re a part of this ritual too. You try it, you’ll burn just like the rest of your kin.” A wheezy cackle oozes through broken ribs.

Astarion makes a hiss of fury, and turns to face Eustace. His face is haunted, determined. 

“I need your help to--to carve my scar markings on his back. So I can replace him. I shall ascend in his place.” 

The elf’s eyes are wide, half deranged in their anger, in their anguish. 

Eustace knows that desperation well, the search for some scrap of power that can turn the tide of fate. From the search for an escape from the bargain their mother made for their soul, to the moment they knew no god would help them, to the moment they found they were infected with a mindflayer. 

How easy it could be, to tell him they would do it. For him to relinquish what humanity he had left, into the sweet waves of devilish power. How easy for Astarion, to give himself over, to be remade a god-king.

“Eustace, please. I need your help. Answer me.” 

They have never heard him beg before, not truly. Not like this. It will hurt, they know, whichever path he chooses.

Eustace walks with silent footfalls over the stone to his side. They wave a hand over Cazador’s body where he lies on the ground, enveloping him in black tendrils to gag him and keep him in place. Turning to Astarion, they do not touch, as much as they could reach out a hand to steady his shaking form.

“You think this will bring you your freedom,” they say to the man before them.

“Of course it will, are you mad ? What has all of this been for, if not for freedom? For power?”

“The two are not the same.”

“I can make him nothing, I can make him less than nothing. I can be so much more than he is, if you’ll help me ,” Astarion pleads.

“You’ll be consumed,” they respond.

“No, that’s the point, I’ll replace Cazador in the ritual, and he’ll take my place, that way I can--”

“Astarion.” They let his name ring in the silence until the echo quiets. “You will be consumed, if you take part in this. Not by a death or sacrifice, but by your own power.”

They cast a glance to the vampire lord struggling against his bonds.

“As it devoured him,” they speak with disgust, “it will devour you wholly. You may become something of a god, something of a new being, but you will be empty . A shell of who you were. You will bring no end to your suffering.”

Astarion lets out a mirthless laugh, venomous, but they continue.

“You will become him. Not in name, but in spirit, in ideal, searching for power over all else. Is that what you want? To follow your master, eternally?”

“Gods but I want him dead , I want him to suffer, I want to be-- I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” 

Astarion whispers to them, his hand gripping a claw into their shoulder.

“If you want him dead, then kill him. Kill him any way that brings you pleasure, brings you peace.  But do not kill yourself in the process.”

They stop a moment, gathering their thoughts, and then cover his hand with their own, touch firm but voice breaking. “Astarion, you are more than what he made you, and you--you have a choice, you can change your fate . You don’t have to become a god to do the impossible, right here and now.”

The words pierce into his skull, and he wants to bat away the thoughts and feelings and bring back the blessed clarity from moments ago. Eustace always had a way of worming their way into people, hells, into him . All the way back on the beach after the nautiloid crash, when he had pinned their body onto the rocky sand and put a knife to their throat, he had faltered at the look in their eyes; as if they stared at death and found it lacking, unafraid and almost curious. The look they give Astarion now could not be further from the one he saw then-- Eustace’s eyes are far from emotionless, there is a bitterness, evident in their gaze, but all the same, a longing desperate hope.

The words unsaid hang in the air. Do what I cannot.

Karlach, Shadowheart and the rest watch carefully from a distance, eyes pinned to Cazador as well. Several moments pass, where the tension is strung tight, a bowstring ready to snap.

Astarion lets out a strangled breath, shrugs off Eustace’s hand. They let it and the tendrils keeping Cazador in place fall away. The elf stands alone over Cazador, the fated roles reversed.

“You don’t deserve the mercy of a quick death.” He spits out, teeth bared. “But I’ll enjoy the moments we have as much as I can.” He takes Cazador’s dagger, the one he kicked away from him as soon as he threw the vampire to the ground. Hefting the weight in his hand, he crouches so close that if the vampire lord could still breathe he would feel the breath on his face.

“You have no power over me, nor anyone else. I am not your shadow anymore.”

The blade plunges deep into the flesh, rending and tearing and ripping, and no screams have ever sounded so sweet as Cazador’s. Knife into heart and stomach and anything he can reach, over again, and down the bond Eustace feels the flood of agonizing victory, the culmination of two hundred years of torture and madness as Astarion carries out his bloody work.

Minutes pass. The screams stop, but when Astarion weeps bitterly and cries out to the heavens, Eustace feels as if they are the one being murdered.