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devildomwriter · 8 months

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Mammon Birthday Special 100 Fun Facts

1. Mammon states that he sleeps in the nude

2. Mammon despises witches and was nearly chopped into pieces by them once but Lucifer rescued him (although Lucifer was also the one to recommend they cut him into pieces)

3. When Levi tried attacking Mammon in his sleep, before he could even bring his foot down on Mammon, Mammon had him in a headlock

4. Mammon has a habit of stripping while drunk

5. Mammon does not like it when bath’s smell like flowers

6. Mammon’s dream for the future is having a carefree and playful life

7. Mammon starts his baths by washing his head

8. Mammon’s fear of ghosts and monsters originates a little after a year of living in the Devildom when he is possessed by a ghost

9. Mammon hates a Devildom song called “Corpse Rock”

10. Karasu refers to Mammon as noodle-boy

11. In earlier chats and Devilgrams Mammon is said to be a cat person, in later stories he is said to be a dog person, but his birthday information card again states he is more of a cat person

12. Mammon’s motto is “Money will makes the Devil turn millstones.”

13. Mammon’s daily activity is procrastinating in MC’s room

14. Mammon is obsessed with his shades and when he accidentally breaks them he’s devastated

15. According to Beelzebub, Mammon is bad at cooking and doesn’t make good peanut butter sandwiches

16. When Belphie and Beel helped Mammon pick out his human world outfit, he was so touched he bought them their human world clothes

17. Mammon states if the Devildom disappeared tomorrow he’d borrow as much money as he wanted to spend and not have to pay any of it back

18. Mammon’s favorite food in hell is Soy Sauce flavored cup ramen

19. In a love survey in B’s log, Mammin is said to be the active one pursuing love

20. Mammon is said to attract the “sassy and outgoing” types

21. The first thing Mammon does in the morning is check his stocks

22. In the love survey in B’s log when asked if he’d want to be bound by or bind his lover his response was “what do you want me to do? What did you say? Idiot!”

23. Mammon’s car is a Demonio 666 Lexura. The specific type was very rare and (unbeknownst to him originally) only with Lucifer and Diavolo’s help was he able to get it

24. Mammon easily forgets anniversaries and special dates of remembrance

25. Mammon is unable to express himself frankly

26. Mammon likes R&B music

27. Mammon is not a morning demon

28. One of the first things in the game said about Mammon by his brothers is that he’s a masochist

29. The results of a demon brain scanning app showed that Mammon’s thoughts are 90% money

30. Mammon’s worst RAD subject is Hexes and Curses

31. Mammon became Lucifer’s attendant in the Celestial Realm before Leviathan had even been born

32. Mammon was once almost roasted alive by hellfire

33. Mammon is a very bad liar and often admits exactly what he did when explaining that’s not what he did

34. Mammon was almost the one to tame Cerberus but Lucifer rushed in as he was about to confront the dog

35. Mammon is extremely protective of his little brothers

36. When forced to be honest, Mammon admits how much he admires and respects Lucifer

37. When Lucifer has a bad day, Mammon will bring him a drink and sandwich without being asked

38. Mammon was almost kicked out of the celestial realm thousands of years before the fall until Lucifer got through to him

39. Besides the people who were told what Simeon was going through in season 4, Mammon was the first one to notice something was wrong with him

40. Once Mammon was punished by Lucifer by being tickled until he laughed so hard he was humiliated

41. Mammon was given a serum with unknown results that caused him to tell MC he wanted to do many explicit things with them

42. Even Michael was unable to handle Mammon as an angel

43. Mammon is so fast that not even Diavolo and Lucifer can catch up to him

44. It’s been mentioned multiple times that Mammon uses crows as familiars

45. When Lucifer cannot trust Diavolo, he turns to Mammon

46. Mammon once called up Simeon to ask about significant lines in the TSL series so he could successfully hack into Leviathan’s akuzon account

47. Levi and Mammon sometimes perform standup comedy

48. When Mammon tried making a cake for Lucifer on his birthday in the Celestial Realm, he accidentally destroyed the kitchen, infuriating Michael

49. Mammon works as a model occasionally

50. In lesson 11 of the game Mammon claims he is well over 5,000 years old

51. In the celestial realm Mammon would often watch over the younger angels

52. Mammon once tried selling bird feathers to the lesser angels, claiming they were seraph feathers

53. In the celestial realm, Mammon once used the lesser angels to play a game of life-size chess

54. Mammon is said to have been the one who rallied and encouraged the angels in the Celestial war

55. Unlike his brothers, Mammon doesn’t often lose control of his powers

56. Whenever Mammon comes up with solutions to a crisis, they usually make things worse

57. Mammon struggles with math unless he thinks about it as calculating money

58. Mammon loves pandas because they’re profitable

59. Mammon always lets his brothers know about sales and deals going on

60. Mammon is the one who told Lucifer to always have pride and not regret his decision about the war

61. Mammon was cursed to speak like a cat during season 4 and Satan was unable to leave his side even getting Mammon to play with cat toys.

62. The first time Mammon lost control of his powers and transformed into a demon in the game is when he misunderstood a conversation between Levi and MC and assumed they had “relations”

63. Mammon is one of the only people who will indulge Asmodeus and watch his one-man fashion shows

64. When Mammon put too many meals on Satan’s tab, Satan called up Solomon and told him Mammon wanted to try his new recipe

65. Mammon has kidnapped MC multiple times

66. Mammon sometimes goes clubbing with Asmo after part time jobs

67. After Mammon sold all of their silverware he was fired from Ristorante Six

68. Mammon is sometimes referred to as MC’s pet

69. Mammon continues to insist he’s MC’s master not the other way around

70. Mammon sees Luke as his little brother

71. Student council members used to oversee detention until Mammon kept getting detention himself

72. Mammon once accidentally cast a spell on himself that made him burst into song

73. Mammon once accidentally turned himself into a dog

74. Mammon accidentally cursed himself and became extremely small. He was scared of how Beel was looking at him

75. When Mammon made the Miss’em dolls he became extremely wealthy but later blew it all on gambling

76. Mammon is too scared to watch horror movies alone and asks Lucifer to watch them with him

77. Mammon once attacked Lucifer with a three-prong pitch fork when he embarrassed him

78. Mammon has cried from fear of Simeon multiple times

79. Mammon was unable to even pretend to break up with MC

80. Mammon is one of the reasons you need a permit to get to the human world rather than do so freely

81. Mammon got a Mohawk once but his brothers teased him so much he immediately got rid of it

82. Mammon loves the Devildom version of Harry Potter

83. Mammon often threatens lesser/younger demons to hand over all their money

84. Mammon once stopped a bank robbery and demanded the money as compensation

85. Mammon accidentally cut down a Christmas tree gifted to Lucifer from Diavolo

86. Mammon was tricked by Lucifer to gamble against everyone he’d ever screwed over all at once

87. Mammon calls going to the horse races “seeing the horsies” to try and convince MC to tag along

88. When he was Lucifer’s attendant, Mammon sought for a rare Crystal Lily flower to gift him but got lost and Lucifer had to come find him

89. Mammon used Serenity Manor as collateral in gambling as soon as he got to the human world, almost forcing everyone to go right back to the Devildom

90. When coming up with proposal’s Mammon forced Simeon, Solomon, and Luke to participate in a flash mob

91. Mammon has a blood oath with MC and Leviathan

92. Mammon accidentally won Henry 1.0 while trying his first Devildom ice cream. He was nearly eaten.

93. Mammon owns an AK-47 after winning it over in a game against Leviathan

94. Mammon fees guilty that he didn’t have a grand reason to follow Lucifer to hell rather than just feeling like it

95. Mammon once lost a bet to a bunch of rabbits

96. Mammon prefers spicy foods to sweets

97. Mammon extorted Satan for 50,000 Grimm in exchange for throwing him a baseball

98. Mammon’s highest known rank in the celestial realm within the game is a Throne

99. When Mammon was turned into a Test Name box he got used to it immediately, disappointing Beelzebub

100. Mammon died in season 4 for a few minutes but was brought back by Barbatos

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me fun facts #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus

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diejager · 6 months

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Hello there, love your stuff! How would the monster au boys react to their human reader being on their period? Because I can totally see Soap smelling blood on the reader and thinking that they are injured, but then getting confused when they tell him it’s a period. ☺️

Sweet blood Cw: blood, period, tell me if I missed any.

I completely agree, Soap, even with the intellect and understanding he needed to be a demolition expert, dismantling and building explosives and weapons from nothing, he’s oblivious of some things. Despite his skillful in sights and decisions, he falters in some aspects in a domestic scene and anything related to it. He struggled at first, trying to understand why there was a smell of sweet blood waffling off you as if it clung to your clothes, the smell ingrained in every little groove of your body —you smelled much sweeter as well.

It made something on his mind swoon, instincts reeling for unknown reasons until he asked you himself after someone found him sniffing the air like a mutt and following you like a lovesick pup. He seemed so confused with the notion of you bleeding once a month and only understood when you told him it was your period - or menstruation in more technical terms - and that it was all natural. He brought up to you a memory of his older sister smelling of blood, old yet new, unripe yet ripe, it followed a lunar cycle and that made it easier to understand.

Unlike Soap, the other’s are more knowledgeable of your plight, coming prepared to help you with whatever you would need. Despite their inexperience with menstrual cramps and cycles, they knew the gist of it, what it entailed whenever someone had one, few of them actually had first-hand experience with it. Ghost had Beth and his mom’s experience, their grumbles and annoyed sounds. Gaz from the few girls he dated in high school, soothing their pains when they curled forward, holding their abdomen. Alejandro and Rudy knew of it from the girls they grew up around in Las Almas as children, running around and skipping school when they didn’t feel well. Price - despote his busy life - had a few flings and Laswell’s grumbling to sit through when their cramps started. Horangi and König both saw and heard from the women in KorTac, their swift mood swings and short tempers once a month made them prepared.

If you needed a heated pad warmed in the microwave, Rudy and Gaz were already there with it in hand, wrapped in a fluffy towel to prevent yourself from burning your skin. If you needed water and painkillers for your unbearable cramps, Ghost and Kónig would gladly get you a cup of water and a few pills from their own bottles, strong painkillers for headaches and muscle pains that were probably weaker than the cramps you felt. If you needed a massage, something to soothe the ache in your back and limbs from your hormones getting out of control, a chaotic mess around your body, Price and Alejandro wouldn’t mind setting aside their work to give you a massage, to press and burn the ache through experienced and warm hands. If you needed a distraction from the whole nausea and sickness, Horangi and Soap would jump at the opportunity, a cuddling feline holding you down with his whole body or an enthusiastic and praise-hungry wolf making tricks to please you.

Alone, one could do a lot to help you through your period, reminding you in advance to take your med, bringing you whatever you would need and taking care of you, but together, they worked like a well oiled machine, every member fitting in like a cog, moving in synchrony. They went over and above to satisfying you, dropping their duty to rush to your side at the slightest sound of displeasure. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you, from going to a drug store miles away for a specific med to carrying you around in their arms or back.

From that first occasion, Soap goes around with his nose raised and mind ready to help you at the drop of the hat if he gets a whiff of sweetened blood from you. He even has a bag in his room with pads, painkillers, soft towels, fluffy blanket, heated pads and a list of food you crave during your period.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi

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barbieaemond · 17 days

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And I dream of a grave

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: angst (!), smut, too many references to graves/burying, mentions of Blood & Cheese, miscommunication, Aemond's coping mechanism is violence and sex, in this order (good for him)

Word count: 3.8k

Author's note: the gif is self explanatory. This is a prequel to A Curse for a Curse, but can be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @irenadel for giving me the idea and being one of the most supportive souls <3

Taglist: @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @multyfangirl

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language

This is more than tempting the Gods. This is forsaking and impudently turning their backs on them.

As she sits down at the banquet, her mother’s words echo through her mind like the vexing sound of the wind on a storm’s night. It sets an unpleasant weight on her lungs, the close and yet shapeless feel of something dreadful. She’s almost grateful, looking around, to ascertain she’s not the only fool dreading this whole act.

The Dowager Queen sits at the table, barely able to contain a grimace. Queen Helaena, she is certain, has never looked so pale, her eyes so vacuous and yet so full of something unknown, elusive, smoke clouding and clearing her unnatural stare. The Hand has conveniently made himself absent. She can’t blame him. Actually, she envies him. If only she too could have been spared such a farce. But as the wife of the King’s brother, the very one they’re all supposed to celebrate tonight, she cannot do that, can she?

To cheers and the blaring of trumpets, the King enters shoulder to shoulder with his brother, tall and proud in his stride, wearing dark green velvet for such a special occasion, and such a special title.

“Do you know how they’re going to call you from now on?” the Queen Mother had asked when he came back from Storm’s end, dripping rain and mud and war.

“I do, Mother.” Aegon had answered, twisting a knife from his seat at the head of the table; she had never caught that glint of satisfaction in his eyes, not like that; it wasn’t dimmed by wine or flesh, but sharp as the blade in his hand. “A title he should be proud of.”

Pride was ever the easiest thing to wear for Aemond, the softest glove gliding on his skin, born out of a pit so deep and full of insecurities and negligence that that same endless depth had grown out of proportion in order to fill itself. To even try scratching his pride was like trying to climb the highest mountain with bare hands. She had cut her palms open to do so.

“What happened, Aemond?” she had asked once alone in their chambers.

“You know what happened.”

“What really happened?”

His good eye had pierced her as if she were made of crystal, but his jaw was too set, on the verge of breaking his own teeth if he carried on keeping the guilt, and truth, trapped inside.

“I didn’t want to.” He whispered, coming down from the peak, “I didn’t want to kill him. I only wanted—”

“Revenge? Well, you had it. Did it make you feel good? Did you bring that boy peace at last?”

It took him a lifetime to say no; a whispered sound, choked even, as if he had bitten off his tongue to get it out of that pit where he had never looked again.

He was biting his tongue in the council, the faintest clench in his jaw but here, here in the council, here in the world, he had to keep that pit buried and stand straight on the highest peak, looking up and up, never down, never back. How could he, how could he admit he had lost control. It was easier, safer, to let them think of him a monster, rather than just human.

“I salute you, brother.” The King had said, raising his cup “True blood of the dragon! We shall have a feast in your honor!" Otto had merely lowered his head in defiance, going unnoticed in the eyes of his King and grandson, drunk with power and finally free of his mother's leash, unaware that a golden noose now held him in check.

He had summoned jesters, musicians, even some dancers to coddle his brother, and raise him higher and higher. She imagined she just had to wait for the fall. Or perhaps pray to the Seven to overlook the insult, to keep a mortal up there with them for a little more. But then again, they shouldn’t ask the Gods for mercy. Someone more unforgiving, more bloodthirsty. Someone who, just as her husband and his brother and each one of their cursed dynasty, did not listen to either Gods or men.

“A toast!” the King says at one point, turning to his left. “To my brother Aemond and a long overdue justice, is it not?”

Out of courtesy and duty, she grabs her cup and raises it, but as everyone at the table sips their wine, all she tastes is contempt, and the cup hits the surface untouched. But not unseen.

“Brother, wine may cloud my judgment, but it seems to me that your beloved wife does not share the sentiment of this fine evening. I wonder why.”

She holds the King’s demanding stare with a firm one, aware of Aemond looking at her even if his eye is fixed on the table. He has ignored her for the whole night, not sparing her a single glance. Because she owns the truth, doesn’t she, and it’s a knife pointed at his back.

“May I speak my mind, your Grace?”

There’s the slightest shift in Alicent’s posture, as if she were desperately waiting for her, or anyone, to cease all of this, to say this isn’t right.

Aegon pulls a thin, lazy smile and tilts his silver head, swirling his cup. “Why, of course, Princess. My brother tells me you have a habit of doing so.”

“Did he, now?” she resists the urge to scoff; such a despicable habit for a woman in this world.

“Fret not, good sister, I’m certain he holds no grudges against you for your silver tongue.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain too, your Grace. I know for a fact that he likes it.”

A few lords can do very little to hold their snickering, Aegon himself does not hide his malicious smirk, petty at the edges. It must run in the blood.

“Careful though, you don’t want to spend too much time talking, lest you leave my poor brother without any heir! It’s been a while since you two lovebirds tied the knot, isn’t that right?”

She glances beside her, surely Aemond won’t let that slight insult pass, but he stays still and silent like a statue. She can’t quite believe what she’s witnessing. This is the same man who would call the crowned head at the table wastrel, depraved, disgrace.

So much for a disgrace, now that he fosters your pride and lies.

“I can assure you, good brother, that the talking is well outweighed by other activities that involve very few words.”

Aegon plasters a big grin on his face, yet she’s not finished. “But perhaps the Gods are sparing me the burden of bringing a child in such troubled times. A realm at war is not the best place to live in, is it not?”

“It depends on which side you’re on, Princess.”

There’s suspicion in his tone, but she just blinks at him. “My apologies, I was not aware that my loyalty to your House, and my husband’s, was to be questioned.”

“Come now. We are bound by what if not words?”

“I was under the impression that the Crown should fear his own kin more than a simple foreign girl from the West.”

At that, Helaena lets out a strange noise, something close to a wince, and silence falls all over. It is only now that Aemond undoes the stone he walled himself in and acts as he always does when he feels belittled, or worse, threatened. He shuts her out.

“I’m afraid my wife is growing tired, brother. ’Tis best for her to retire.”

She bites her tongue and turns her head. There’s no mistake in his tone, that is an order. She stares at him and he stares back, blankly, and then, just as it is expected of her, she obeys.

She goes without saying a word, aware of Aemond’s eye on her, of Aegon’s little victorious giggle. He snaps his fingers and two dancing girls flock to his brother. She knows this because she can’t resist but turning before disappearing. The girls are said to come from Lys, no less. But he’s not sparing them a single glance. His eye follows her out of the hall, and even after.

Candles almost extinguished, casting a soft glow in the bedchamber, dim but enough to make the shape of her body visible under the covers.

“I know you’re pretending to be asleep.” He says, placing his dagger and eyepatch on the nightstand.

She doesn’t bother to wait a single moment to fly her eyes open. “Was I not supposed to pretend I was tired?”

When she gets no answer, she turns to face him, finding him on his feet near the bed, undoing the buttons of his doublet. His eye is on her, though, wide, as someone ready to hunt but seeing traps everywhere.

“Did you enjoy your feast?” she asks with piqued interest. “Such a shame that I missed most of it. I was eager to watch the girls from Lys dance. How were they?”

“Enough. You should thank me for dismissing you. You were bordering on high treason.”

“Since when telling the truth is considered high treason?”

“Is that what you were going to say? The truth? To make me look like a fool in front of the whole court?”

“I was only going to say that the feast was an insult and a challenge to the Gods or any common sense. And I know that beneath all the pats on the shoulder and the endorsement on your brother’s part, you are of the same mind.” she hopes to see the barest glimpse of validation on his face, at least here, where he can leave behind his pride and admit he made a mistake. Is that what you call starting a war?

But his expression is as closed as ever, wary.

She wishes it would hurt less than it does. “Of all the people ready to betray you, how quick you are to assume I’d be the first.”

“We’re bound by words, are we not?”

“Take your brother off your mouth.” She says absentmindedly; she tries to not let it sting, but it does anyway. It is a low blow, and she knows he does not believe it. He has raised the walls, coiling like a snake, and there’s no point trying to climb and risk cracking her skull open on the ground. She will have to wait for him to come down. “Then perhaps I should consider my father’s proposal.”

She leaves the bed and grabs a letter lying open on the desk. “He wrote me this letter. That is why my mother came all the way here, apparently to see how her daughter was faring.”

Aemond eyes it with the barest twitch in his lips, then looks up into her eyes and, with a sigh, she clears her throat.

“My dearest daughter,

It is with great concern and sadness that I write you this letter.

Words have reached me about the recent events involving Storm’s End and young Prince Lucerys’ demise. My spirits are low when thinking of the fate you’re enduring. But I want you to think carefully of this: annulments are rare but possible. Even more so since you bore no heirs yet. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins. I only need a word from you, daughter, and I shall hastily consult with a High Septon.”

She can barely register his arm moving, only sees his hand snatching the letter out of her grip, crumpling the paper between his fingers. Nostrils flaring, eye widening, she reads insult all over his face. About time.

“Is that it, Aemond? Is that the reason you’d think I would betray you? Because I didn’t bleed on a birthing bed yet? Is that how you measure my loyalty? What of all the times I drew your bath, washed your hair, pulled the boots off your feet? What about that curtain—“ she adds, pointing to the windows “and the fact that I told the maid to keep that side always closed so the sun will not bother your eye? Do you think I did all of this because of some empty words?”

He looks as if she has just slapped him. Mistrust and bewilderment run together all over his sharp features, trying to win one another, and she waits and waits, and she begs as all the purest things must be pleaded, wordlessly.

Come down. Come down. Lay down with me. In our bed, a grave, it matters not. I'll take the shovel and do the burying.

But he stands still on his high and cursed perch, the grip on the letter loosens, his shoulders slump a little, because this, this comes so easily. Violence. It’s the other glove he wears like second skin.

“You will write to your father and tell him if I hear another word about annulments, I will have his head for treason. And as for you… you tell a living soul what you know, and you shall join the Silent Sisters. You won’t even have to vow your silence, for I shall take your sharp tongue first.”

She watches him go, standing in the middle of the room like a fool; her hands bleeding still and a plea, unheard, choking to death in her chest.

Her hands heal, stay whole for so long. She feels she cannot reach him this time, no matter how hard she tries to climb. She finds no footholds, no inlets, until she stops looking for any.

She finds she has no strength to do it anymore. They’re all dead anyway, each of them in their own way, their own burial.

The king drinks and rages and drinks and rages. Helaena rocks on herself all day long, chasing the highs and lows of her laments. Jaehaera stares at her mother with her small lips sewn, her eyes wide and the Queen Mother weeps and weeps, wondering if the little girl is watching her mother go mad with grief or yet again her twin brother’s head rolling on the ground like one of her toys.

And Aemond…she does not know where Aemond chose to bury himself. He spends the day out, trying to escape the smothering grip of the Stranger’s claws, his curse…or is it only retribution?

Sometimes he’s in the training yard, sometimes that same yard becomes theater for revenge. He kills whoever helped Blood and Cheese enter the Keep, man or woman, he doesn’t care. He tortures them, and she wants to beg him to stop, to tell him that torturing one, two, or one hundred men won’t stop guilt from torturing him.

So, he wanders restlessly, basks in small and big cruelties, until the sun sets and she’s aware, as the bed dips under his weight, that she is his own burial. He takes her at any time, in any place, be it the bed, the desk, or bent over the vanity, she cannot do anything to stop him. She doesn’t want to and yet she aches to do it. Because it’s always sudden, and harsh and hurtful when he pulls her hair, when he spares no time to stoke her desire, when he keeps her bent with her back turned and a firm hand on her neck like some kind of punishment.

It never used to be like this. It had been playful, teasing, painfully slow as if he were separating salt from water, and then fast, urgent, unraveling for two inexperienced newlyweds.

But it had never been like that. There was no joy in it. Only a duty to be fulfilled. Some twisted way to gain control, while anyone else kept slipping from his hands. Just as Vhagar slipped out of his control on that fateful night of storm.

He remembered that dark thrill pounding in his veins, the laughter gushing out of his throat like poison. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. He didn’t know whether Vhagar was fueling his fire or the other way around, perhaps both. Just a little more, he’d thought, as Arrax batted his wings frantically, desperate, mirroring his young rider, to escape the gaping jaws of the Queen of All Dragons.

That’s what he wanted. He wanted to relish in his nephew’s dread, he wanted to drink it. He wanted him alone, desperate, hopeless, just as he had been.

And then he felt it, the shift in the ancient fire pit he was riding, like a boat tipping over and there was no helm to grab onto and bring it back to land. He had sunk his own family into the bleak abyss of Daemon Targaryen’s soul.

He had come to collect, thoroughly. A son for a son, yes, but he had taken much more than Jaehaerys. He’d taken Helaena as well. Even Jaehaera.

Will she ever be able to speak again?

Will my Mother ever forgive me?

Words never spoken, stuck on his tongue and then gagged and swallowed. He cannot look down, cannot look back. He must look up and forward, like soldiers do. To the next battle, to war.

But there’s this woman. And the sight of her in his bed that makes his breath hitch and for two reasons entirely opposite to one another. The first is the most ancient one. But she’s also a thorn in his side, for she knows. She knows everything. She knows all his peaks and depths, every brick in his walls and how to dismantle them; she knows he’s strong and weak, that he’s scared and guilty and worthy of his mother’s contempt, but he cannot bear any of this in front of her.

He flees her presence during the day, only to impose himself on her for the whole night. She cannot refuse him. And he cannot have her prying and dismantling his well-crafted walls and lies, so he takes her and takes her and takes her until he works themselves up to exhaustion and she’s a rag doll in his hands. It serves the purpose, though. As long as she has his cock in her mouth, as long as he harshly pounds into her, cutting her breath from the inside, she cannot ask questions. As long as he keeps chasing his pleasure, and his rugged breaths muffle his own ears, he cannot think straight.

He's close now and it’s the second time already. The sheets are damp beneath their bodies, his back glints with sweat, damps his forehead as he thrusts inside her one more time. They’re lying on their side, but he keeps her caged against him, his arm has slipped on the mattress and under her neck to keep her still, with her back to him. With his cheek glued to hers, he croons praises in her ear, falling mindlessly from his lips but like drops in the ocean. Once, she would redden, smile blissfully, or challenge him, to go deeper, or harder, or both, but she’s a limp thing now. A mere body panting upon being fucked by another, that’s all.

This is possession. Or a desperate attempt to. Each night, he holds her as if it’s the last time and she could slip away from him at any moment, turning her back on him. She can feel it now, in the way he’s gripping her shoulder, the way his nails dig in her skin, carving into her bones: stay with me. Please. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave.

But it’s him keeping her away, turning her own back on him.

Don’t you know, she wishes to tell him, that I won’t, ever. I won’t. No matter how cursed you are. I won’t. I won’t.

He grabs her thigh, resting it on his hip, spreading his long fingers on her skin, spreading her legs so he can find the perfect angle and picks up the pace. She shudders with every thrust, gasping with her throat dry, feeling the long bridge of his nose sinking in her cheek, his grunts growing rougher and deeper; some strange choked sound at the back of his throat.

He comes quietly, panting shallowly against the damp fabric of her nightgown. And he stays there, claw gripping her shoulder, head sunk between her neck and collarbone, and deep to the hilt buried in her.

A tear rolls down her cheek. She doesn’t know where it comes from, who she is mourning, she can’t tell these days. Perhaps she’s mourning him, who he was, who he is now and who he is forcing himself to be. She doesn’t know where the deception lies anymore. She wishes she could push it back in, prays that it goes unnoticed, swallowed along with all the others, but she should know by now, the Gods are not in her favor anymore, if they ever had been.

“Why are you crying?”

She turns her head, and her breath hitches. The gemstone glints, yes, but she’s too struck by his eye to even notice the sapphire. There’s something raw there, bare, more than his very skin now. It’s the first time she sees that look on him, torn, heavy lidded and not by pleasure.

This is the burden of grief.

She wonders if that’s the reason he’s so keen on fucking her with her back turned, so she can’t see him. Perhaps she didn’t look hard enough. She thought he had risen too high, out of her reach, of anyone’s. She thought he would never fall, not in every sense of the word.

Hence, she’s at a loss for words, slightly pulling herself up, when he slowly comes down; he curls into himself, into her lap, resting his head there like a child. No Kinslayer, no Dragon Prince, no son, no brother. No husband. Just a human, bare in the skin and soul.

Aemond wraps his hand around her knee, gently, and then tighter and tighter, shutting his eye. He’s on land now, but the room is spinning, the whole world is spinning and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He feels he started it all, he threw a spinning top and got sucked into it. And she’s the only firm thing he can hold onto.

“Do you think I’m cursed?” he whispers, the barest flutter of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone.

But she has no answer. All she has are her hands, sliding on his naked skin, through his loose hair, gently, as if touching the thinnest glass, sealing the cracks. Her palms slice open again.

“Aren’t we all?”

And I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more."

- The Castle, Franz Kafka.

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ambrosiagourmet · 30 days

Text

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #marcille donato #laios touden #falin touden #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis #for anyone keeping track I'm on pdt so it IS still the same day that I said I'd post it on #PUT DOWN THE TOMATOES

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 8 months

Text

Vodka Slime

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, use of tentacles, dom!seungcheol, bratty reader, pussy slapping, bondage, implied size kink (reader is smaller than seungcheol), tummy bulge, squirting, masturbating, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (pls stay safe), dirty talk, recording during sex (consensual but DON'T DO IT IRL), reader runs a nsfw twitter acc, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.7k

summary: picking up a hot guy from a bar to spend the night with was in your bucket list. him being an alien wasn't. not that you really complain.

Author's note: Spooky season is here and what better way to participate than a spooky smutty theme :) this was a request from Y anon!

p.s.: main inspiration for this fic was drawn by @meltwonu's Starlighter fic, it is a MUST read (like the rest of monster mash lmaooo)

taglist: @duhnova @smileysuh @gyuwoncheol (kindly suffer <3)

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

You kinda wish you had stayed at home.

You thought it would be a good idea to dress up and go to a bar on your own to enjoy a cocktail, hoping for a stroke of luck - Alas, things don’t always go your way.

If you had stayed home, you would be in comfy clothes or maybe no clothes at all, thinking of which toy you want to fuck yourself with.

You let out a huff and you take your cocktail in your hand, opting for a ‘random walk’ around the bar (you just want to spot a single guy who wouldn’t mind to get laid tonight), but as soon as you turn around, you collide with a very firm body and your cocktail ends up splashing all over your top.

“Fuck!” You gasp when the ice cold beverage hits your skin, desperately looking for napkins to clean up the newly made mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” He apologizes profusely as he asks for napkins from the bartender. “Here, these should help somehow.” He passes you the napkins and you accept them with a grumble, trying your best to clean up yourself.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, miss?”

“You can only-” you almost snap at him but your words die down in your throat when you raise your head and take a good look at the unknown man.

And all you see is the stroke of luck you were wishing for all night long.

Semi-pulled back white hair, slightly messed up from the wind outside, a tight fitted shirt accentuating his toned pecs and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your clothes.

“Well…” You put down the used napkins, “I wouldn’t mind a refill of that cocktail I was drinking.”

The unknown man flashes a rather adorable gummy smile and effortlessly takes a couple of bills out of his wallet.

“That, I can definitely do.”

"So, a college student. That's pretty cool."

You almost snort in your drink. "Oh yeah, it's so cool to stress over random classes because the professor happens to be a dickhead."

"Hey, don't downplay your achievements. It's not like everyone has the brains to attend college, you know." The man plays with the rim of his glass.

"It's actually funny how hard you're trying to get my attention, while you don't even know my name." You down your cocktail.

"And here I was wondering whether you'd bring it up or not." He chuckles.

"Well? Are you satisfied now, mister I don't know-what-your-name-is?"

"Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

"What?"

"That's my name, doll."

"Oh." You gulp down. "That's a very nice name you have there."

“So I’ve been told before.”

“By other girls, I suppose?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, doll.”

“Suit yourself then.” You shrug and open your purse, taking out a small folded mirror to check your makeup.

“I’m impressed.” Seungcheol licks the corner of his mouth, “It’s the first time someone isn’t giving their attention to me.”

“You either have a bloated ego or you’re a desperate attention whore. Or both, I guess.” You sigh.

“And you have a pretty foul mouth for such a pretty face.”

“Cliché.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, mister Choi.” You mimic his attitude.

“Are you even willing to share something with me, other than a drink?” He huffs.

“To be completely honest, I was hoping to come here and snatch a cutie back home to have fun with, but things are looking kinda grim.”

Seungcheol flashes a wide smirk. “What a wonderful coincidence, for our goals to be aligned tonight.”

“You’re here to hit it off with someone too?”

“Yeah. And to be fair, you’re looking way too hot and way too lonely to not get laid tonight.”

“Are you suggesting I should fuck you, Seungcheol?”

“I was planning on using more subtle words but I suppose this is also a way to approach things.”

You take a few seconds to yourself, pondering about Seungcheol’s proposal.

Cons - he’s a complete stranger and could be a murderer.

Pros - he’s fucking hot and you could get new content for your account.

“I have one question.”

“Fire away, doll.”

“You’re not some kind of crazy ass murderer, right?”

Seungcheol snorts. “Murderer? Nope."

He brings himself closer to you. "But the crazy ass depends on the context."

"I think we both know the context." You lick your lips.

"Then I hope you're into crazy stuff, doll."

Boy, he's in for a treat.

"That's a nice setup you have here."

"Thanks." You smile and take off your shoes.

"Are you a streamer?"

"Hmm, not really."

"There's no shame in saying you're a camgirl." Seungcheol chuckles.

"I never said that and I definitely didn't try to hide it." You retort.

"Judging from the box of dildos being out in the open on your desk, I would agree to the latter."

"Do they make you feel uncomfortable, Seungcheol?"

"Not at all." He walks towards the desk and picks up a neon colored, tentacle shaped dildo. "Is this what you play with?"

You sit down on the bed and cross your legs sensually. "Got a problem with that?"

"Not really." Seungcheol drops the toy in the box. "It's a shame to play with fake stuff when you can have access to the real stuff."

You snort. "What, you're into that fake tentacles porn?"

He flashes a smirk and removes his jacket and t-shirt, you let out a whistle at the sight of his naked torso.

The excitement you had stored in your body evaporates within milliseconds when you see extra large sized tentacles coming out of Seungcheol's back, looming over him.

"Okay whoa, that is NOT what I was expecting!"

"I know it's shocking, but I have zero intention to hurt you-"

You crawl away from him. "Your little friends don't seem to share the sentiment!"

"I am the one who controls them, I can pull them back if you want me to."

"I- I just-"

"Look, I can just put my clothes back on and disappear from your apartment, like I never even existed in the first place."

"W-Wait! I, um-"

"Take your time, Y/N."

"Can you try not to put these things near my mouth please?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I have no choice but to comply."

Seungcheol crawls on the bed and cages you between his body and the mattress, peppering kisses across your jawline to make you feel more comfortable.

"Do you mind if I kiss you? I promise my lips are nothing like my tentacles."

"Oh my God, just shut up and kiss me!" You grab his face with your hands and smash your lips on his, slipping your tongue in his mouth, but it doesn't last for long, as he pulls away and pins your hands above your head.

"What got into you all of a sudden, doll?"

"Maybe I thought things over again and decided that fucking a hot guy with tentacles isn't a terrible idea."

"I thought you weren't into that thing?"

"Half of my porn content is with tentacle dildos, please get real."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You little brat."

He lifts himself off you and with a tilt of his head, his tentacles wrap around your torso and legs, restricting you midair.

"You fucker! This is foul play!" You yelp.

He leans back on the headrest of the bed, looking at you with hungry eyes. "Everything is fair in war, love and sex, doll. I’m just spicing up things a little."

Two more of his tentacles come up to your body, one ripping your top in half and the other flipping your skirt to reveal your bare pussy.

“Fuck you, I liked that top!”

“It was already ruined, sweetheart, don’t think too much of it. No underwear though? That's hot."

"It's called easy access, himbo."

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips one of his tentacles over your pussy, making you whine.

"You're being a lil' smartass and it could get you in trouble, Y/N."

"Do your worst, Kraken."

The tentacle glides between your lips with the tip repeatedly nudging your clit when it suddenly whips your pussy again and you close your legs involuntarily.

"Ah ah ah, we're not having any of that."

The tentacles tighten around your legs and keep them wide open, while the third one keeps rubbing your pussy slowly enough for the suckers to tease your sensitive parts.

"Ah! Fuck!" You moan when the slimy object slaps your cunt over and over again, your juices starting to drip on your asscheeks and all over the sheets.

"Drenched already? I haven't even fucked you yet, doll." Seungcheol chuckles as he strokes his cock, his pants discarded a long time ago.

"It's all f-fun and games when you're the o-one sitting on the bed!" You whine in defeat.

Your lips fall open when after a particular harsh slap, the tentacle effortlessly pushes into your entrance, turning around and rubbing your walls in an excruciatingly slow manner.

"Oh…my God…Fuck, that feels so fucking good."

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. "You feel a tad bit loose, sweetheart."

"And w-what about it?"

You nearly scream when another, thicker tentacle enters your pussy and thrusts harder than the other one. You feel your walls being stretched out, the foreign bodies in your hole proving to be bigger than the toys you use.

“Now it feels just right.” Seungcheol moans, as if it was his dick fucking you stupid. “Can’t wait to have you all wrapped around my cock, doll.”

“F-Fu- Cheol, I’m gonna cum!” You gasp when the tentacles pick up the pace and ram your cunt without mercy.

“Come on, doll, show me what this pussy is capable of.” Seungcheol grunts as he fists his cock harder to bring himself closer to his climax.

A sharp shriek erupts from your throat - you squirt all over your thighs and the slimy appendices, juices dripping down on the sheets and Seungcheol’s legs. His cock explodes all over his torso, streaks of thick white cum splashing on his skin.

The tentacles around your body relax just enough to let you plop down on the mattress, leaving your skin sticky and covered with a thin, slimy substance. He slowly retracts them altogether and they disappear from your field of view, as if they never existed in the first place.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Seungcheol crawls on the mattress until he’s hovering above you. “That’s cute. But I’m afraid I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

Your eyes go wide when you notice the sheer size of his cock resting on top of your stomach and you’re pretty sure it’s way bigger than anything else you’ve taken before.

“There’s no fucking way that thing will fit in me!”

“That’s what you said about my tentacles, but you took them like a pro.”

“That’s different!” You protest.

“Different how?”

You purse your lips.

“Different how, Y/N?” Seungcheol slaps his cock between your legs and you whimper.

“It’s….so fucking big, Cheol….”

“Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“We can always take it slow, pretty girl. Are you on the pill?”

You nod your head slowly and hook your fingers around the elastic band of the skirt to take it off, but he stops you.

“The skirt stays on.”

“It could get in the way, though.”

“Pull it just enough to let your pussy show.”

“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” You say and point towards the video camera on the desk. “Can you grab it for me?”

“What do you have in mind, doll?”

“Since it might take some effort to make it fit…” You turn on the camera and hand it over to him, “Might as well show my followers how it’s done, right?”

Seungcheol flashes a dirty smirk before he points the camera to your pussy, his tip nudging your entrance. You wince a little when the bulbous head pushes into your hole, a strangled moan escaping from your mouth when you try to fit in more of his shaft.

“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

He swipes his free hand over his abs to pick up the cum that hasn’t dried yet and smears it all over his length, using it as lube.

“S-Stop teasing me…”

“‘M sorry doll, but I don't wanna rip your pretty pussy apart.”

“Fuck, I can take it, promise!” You arch your back and buck your hips in the air.

Seungcheol flattens his free hand over your stomach and pins you down. “You will take only what I wanna give you, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Your walls clench around his tip and he has the audacity to bring the camera closer to the spot you’re connected to each other, only to push his fat cock all the way to the base.

“Fuuuuuck, it’s huge…” Your eyes roll back and your pussy spasms like crazy, trying your best to accommodate his size.

“Good girl, I knew you’d take it all in.” Seungcheol rasps as he rubs his palm over the newly formed bulge in your tummy, “Such a tiny pussy yet you managed to fit all of it. I think you deserve a treat for this.”

His hand moves to your left hip and he starts thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first.

You moan loudly with each thrust he delivers and you slide one of your hands directly over the spot that bulges from his cock.

“Not so snarky now, are you?”

“M-More…”

“More what, doll? Use your big girl words.”

“M-More power, harder, please!” You beg between sobs.

“I was planning on dragging it out a bit more, but fuck, you’re gripping me like a vice and I can’t wait to blow my load in your pussy, doll.”

He pulls the camera a bit further away to get a full view of your and his lower half, ensuring none of your faces are visible in the video. He answers your pleas by fucking you harder and faster than his tentacles did and he can swear his sanity is starting to slip away.

“S-Shit, you’re- Fuck! It’s so good!” You scream and grip the sheets around you, your tits bouncing up and down.

“Mmmh, I’m about to cum, baby- Gonna take it all deep, will you?” Seungcheol moans above you, trying to keep the camera steady.

“Yes, yes yes, fuck me full with your load, daddy!” You cry out and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your wet walls rapidly clenching around his huge shaft.

“Fuuuck….” He delivers a few shallow thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, blowing his thick load inside your pussy until a white ring of cum forms around his base. He doesn’t hesitate to take out his cock with an obscene pop and spurt the remnants of his orgasm over your pussy and your skirt.

“That…was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol taps his cock on your clit, chuckling when you bite your lips to suppress your moans.

“Close…the camera…” You mutter and he presses the button to stop the recording.

He puts the camera down and lays right next to you, ghosting his fingers over your abused cunt.

“So? Do you think it was a waste of time to bring me back home?”

You grip his wrist and bring his hand in front of your face, licking his digits clean.

“Only an idiot would consider you a waste of time, Cheol.”

“Does that mean you’re down to exchange numbers?”

“Are you not-so-subtly asking for another time?” You rake your pointer finger across his chest.

“Perhaps I am,” he confirms, “Not to mention that one time isn’t anywhere near enough to show you what I can truly do with my tentacles.”

“One question - Do your tentacles spit stuff like in hentai?”

Seungcheol snorts and erupts into a laughing fit, to the point of tears.

You slap his arm. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”

“I know! It was still funny,” he wipes his tears away, “But I can’t answer your question yet.”

“And why is that?”

He smirks again.

“That would just spoil the fun for next time, doll.”

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw alcohol #tw tentacles #tw monsterfucking

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 10 months

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Yandere!Monster X Barbarian!Reader

❤️ Barbarian Reader who seems to have put all their stat points into Strength/Dex, and completely forgot Intelligence

💀 thembo.exe

❤️ A huge sweetheart, and I mean huge

💀 Was always the tallest in their village, towering over both women and men alike

❤️ Due to their height (Reader) had a lot more placed on their shoulders from a very early age

💀 Some internal reflection could have led to a deeper understanding of their secret yearning to rely on another person, but that sounds like a lot of work... And thinking...

❤️ Happy to be sent as part of their tribe's representation when meeting with a tribe of monsters despite knowing nothing about politics

💀 While the presence of the monster people caused visible discomfort in their fellow warriors, (Reader) was too busy being star struck to think about how easily this new species could kill them

Xyleth emerges from his tent, unimpressed with the shivering smooth skins before him. His form was only vaguely human in the front, with a gun metal blue chest and face, sparkling in the sun like his skin was dusted in finely crushed gems. However, his backside and limbs were armored in an inky black shell, spiked for protection along his joints and down his long tail, with bone colored claws adorning his claw like appendages. His eyes seemed black in the shade, but held a universe of stars in the light. Xyleth was born to be a leader, only the strongest of his species developed this coloring, separating him from the rest of his tribe whose shells were a sandy brown to hide in the desert of their home.

❤️ (Reader) didn't notice the congregation were speaking, still taking in the sights about them, before they finally looked forward, witnessing the tallest of the monsters

💀 (gasps) "Damn, you're huge!"

❤️ The barbarians gasp in horror, and flinch away from (Reader)

💀 Was this some sort of joke?

❤️ A tight smile formed on Xyleth's chiseled face. "Yes?"

💀 "Yeah, I thought I was big, but damn, you could crush me without breaking a sweat, huh big guy?"

❤️ What's this? Was this human attempting to flatter him? A war lord of a different species?

💀 No, (Reader) was genuinely impressed.

❤️ "And the point of you bringing this up, small one?" He asked, his on edge grin softening into an amused smile. Although he would have no interest in something not his own species, it was adorable how this human flirted with him so confidently (that's not what's happening)

💀 "Ah, no point. I'd love to wrestle you though!" (Reader) knocked their fists together, pumped at the idea of testing their strength against the beast

❤️ Xyleth and his guards were taken aback, Xyleth's tail smacking the ground with surprise. No one had ever been so brave, so brazen. Unknown to the barbarians, the armored monsters had a very unique mating ritual, similar to scorpions dancing while pressing up against each other to test the male's strength

💀 Despite (Reader) being taller than their fellow barbarians, they were still several feet shorter than Xyleth's shortest villager

❤️ But your personality... None of the women or men had ever approached Xyleth like (Reader) had (again, not what's going on..)

💀 Perhaps Xyleth would actually listen to the barbarians, instead of slaughtering them for having the audacity to request a conference with him like he originally planned

❤️ The barbarians were invited to stay with the rival tribe for a week as they discussed various topics (Reader) had no interest in

💀 (Reader) quickly became loved by the local children, the children adoring (Reader) as a human loves their pet puppy, allowing (Reader) to rough house with them and feeding them snacks like a stray

❤️ (Reader) did not find this insulting, and was enjoying the affection and attention they were receiving

Xyleth was bored in his meetings with the soft skins, upset that (Reader) wasn't involved. He had learned that (Reader) was brought in as the muscle, which irked him. Did they not research how giant his species were before arriving? What did they think someone as small and sweet and adora- Xyleth thumped his tail loudly, frightening the barbarians. Why couldn't he get (Reader) out of his head? "Let's continue this after lunch."

💀 Xyleth roamed his streets in search for (Reader). Although they weren't there as part of the 'debate team' it was a little upsetting that (Reader) wasn't at least waiting for Xyleth near the meeting tent seeing how enamored they were with him

❤️ (Reader) was found in a circle of chuckling adults, struggling with all their might to lift two children at the same time

💀 The sight immediately filled Xyleth's heart with warmth, seeing the children as their own for a split second, and picturing an entire future with the barbarian

❤️ He knew (Reader) would have no objections to becoming his mate, however their people might argue

💀 It didn't matter if he had to kill the other barbarians staying in his town, he had initially planned on slaughtering them anyhow, but it would be better if they enthusiastically supported their love

❤️ And they did support his proposal, especially since it was either trade (Reader) for their protection (from Xyleth's own tribe) on their hunting paths, or die right there and have their entire tribe extinguished

💀 What a supportive family (Reader) has~!

(Reader) didn't notice when the rest of their people left the village, still having the time of their life with creatures that more matched their strength and height. One of the kids gasped and wiggled his way out of (Reader's) arms, running away as his parents also turned back towards their homes. A large shadow approached the confused human, who got up, patting the dirt off their legs.

"Play fighting with young boys? Are you trying to make me jealous, little one?" Xyleth joked with a smile.

(Reader) felt their heart soar being called "Little One", relishing in the friendliness they experienced from the citizens the barbarians called monsters.

"Bwahahaha!!! Jealous? If I was as imposing as you, the only one who could make me jealous would be a god!"

Xyleth couldn't control his tail, whacking the ground in embarrassment over his love's honesty flirtatiousness.

"If it wouldn't be too inconveniencing, I would be honored to take you up on that wrestling proposition now.." He could hardly speak with how excited he was, fearful the adorable little human could hear his two hearts rapid beating.

"Really? Right now? I'm a little worn out, but I'll never turn down a challenge! Just don't be too disappointed!"

Xyleth picked (Reader) up in his arms, fighting every urge to take them right then and there in the center of his village.

"I could never be disappointed in you~" his deep voice vibrated against (Reader's) body, as he carried them to his tent, the poor human completely unaware of what he was about to do to them.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere monster #gender neutral reader #not proofread #thembo #soft yandere #yandere #yandere oc #bad writing

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turcott3 · 3 months

Text

made for me

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings: cursing, kissing, oral f and m receiving, protected sex, pet names, fluff

masterlist

you giggled at the soft feeling of the bed after matt tossed you onto it, climbing over you, attaching your lips desperately but lovingly. you were both dressed and ready for bed but it seemed you were both far from ready to sleep.

you haven’t been with matt for more than 2 months and if you were honest, you were afraid to get physical with him due to his size. which always sounded stupid coming out, but matt is a giant, beautiful, brunette monster. you couldn’t even fathom the things he would do to you, but tonight things felt different. sex was in the air looming over the two of you. the way his soft lips tangled themselves with yours sent butterflies through your body. you admired the was the light chiseled his abdomen and the way his grey sweatpants made you nervous to have him pummeling deep inside you. you weren’t sure how much you could handle.

“baby.” he says picking his head up and locking eyes with you.

“hm?”

“can we?”

“matt im-“

“baby please, i just want to love you. i want to show you, in more than just words, how beautiful you are and i know you’re afraid but i promise i’ll be so careful. i’ll take such good care of you my love.”

“you promise?” you reply, the fear wasn’t coming from a place of unknown. you weren’t a virgin, you’d just never dated a 6 foot 7 beefy athlete before.

“i promise. i would never hurt you. if it’s too much tell me and i’ll stop okay? i want you to be comfortable.”

“okay.” you accept smiling lightly, watching your boy’s eyes light up made your heart jump in your chest. you knew he was romantic and truthfully you were beyond excited to explore further into your relationship, fears aside. you also, subconsciously, loved the way he was begging for you. the way he’d just begged to touch and love you made you crave him in ways you hadn’t before.

“my beautiful baby.” he smiles, attaching your lips in a kiss that you swore could’ve caused a spark that set the whole room on fire. he toyed with the seam of your large tshirt, allowing him to tug it off you carefully, hardly losing touch.

“to make this even, let’s lose these.” you giggle as you sat there in only your thong, tugging at the waistband of his dreadful sweatpants. he smirks at you before pulling them down, keeping eye contact with you. he stepped back out of his pants and looked you up and down. you become painfully aware of your bare chest and fight the urge to cover up.

“wow.” he scoffs.

“what?” you reply nervously.

“this was so worth waiting for, look at you. fucking gorgeous.” he smiles as your cheeks heat up.

“stop it matt.”

“what? i’m just stating the obvious.” he giggles, walking back over to you, kissing you with more passion than you’ve ever felt. his hand found its way into your hair, grabbing into it lightly,

“okay, what do you want to do?” he asks randomly.

“what do you mean?”

“like do you want to go a little further?”

“yes.” you simply say.

“lay back for me.” he says and you comply. delicately, he pulls your underwear down and your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden contact between your legs. his large hands wrapping around the outside of your thighs as his tongue pays close attention to your clit.

“oh fuck.” you say, your abdomen tightening as your hand tugs the brunettes hair. the way he paid such close attention to your pleasure. you were creeping close to the edge, you could feel yourself coming close to a climax.

“matt-“ you say and he backs off quickly, wiping his mouth with his arm.

“why’d you stop?” you frown.

“i don’t want you to get off on just that.” he giggles. you reach out and grab his face, bringing his lips back to yours.

“let me.” you say pushing him away. setting in the edge of the bed, yanking his boxers down. your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

“holy shit.” you whisper to yourself before taking him into your hand, stroking him fully hard. you bring his tip to your lips as you push spit through your lips, circling the saliva with your tongue, striking him wet with your hand.

“jesus christ.” he groans looking down at the sight below him. he gathers your hair behind your head carefully, not pushing you. you lock eyes with him as you take him fully into your mouth, pushing your limits, holding your thumb to attempt to keep yourself from gagging. somehow, your lips almost touch the base of his cock. not once losing eye contact, your eyes well up with tears. fighting the urge to gag you remove him from your mouth, stroking him with your hand completely out of air.

“no more.” he says quietly, using two fingers to guide your chin back to his lips.

“but why?” you pout.

“because.” he giggles, making his point very clear as he drags his fingers through your soaking folds.

“promise you’ll go slow?”

“yes baby, i promise.” he smiles, grabbing a condom from his drawer.

“give me that.” you say. he hands you the condom and you carefully tear it open, rolling it onto his thick cock.

“lay back my love.” he says fluffing the pillows behind you before you lean back. he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. you gasped at the way he stretched you out, moaning out in pleasure. once he bottoms out, you can feel your stomach bulging.

“god matt you’re so big.” you gasp, running light fingers over the bulge which directed his attention to it.

“i’m all yours.” he smirks, using one hand to lift your head to meet his in the middle, connecting your lips sensually. slowly, he retracts his hips, thrusting back into you at the same speed. you couldn’t lie and say you were t enjoying the sensation of him being almost too big for you.

“are you okay?” he asks keeping his speed.

“yes baby, you can go faster.” you say, becoming anxious for him to speed up. carefully, he speeds up just enough for your moans to practically become cries.

“oh my god.” you say, your moans snapping up an octave.

“i love you.” he says lowly, his face inches away from yours.

“i love you too.” you choke out, your eyes fighting the urge to roll into the back of your head. he hit every single sensitive spot inside you, practically overwhelming all of your senses.

“matt.” you moan, your fingers scratching his back harshly.

“god fuck, say it again.” he grunts, picking up his pace.

“oh my fucking god, matt you feel so good,” you moan upon his request.

“i’m close.” you whisper just barely audible due to the loud sound of your skin slapping together.

“come for me baby. just let go.” he says, sucking at the skin in your neck as the line snaps in your stomach, releasing all of your tightened muscles, a galaxy forming in your eyes as he fucks you right through your orgasm. he slows down quickly, pulling out of you, still stroking his cock. hazily, you get into your knees and pull the condom off of him, quickly taking him back into your mouth. you sucked in your cheeks, paying close attention to his sensitive tip. you pull away, stroking him with pressure until you felt his cock twitch in your hand. you open your mouth immediately, allowing him to spill his salty climax into your tongue, locking eyes with him as you swallow every last drop of it. with daze in your eyes, you lay back down not worrying about your clothes.

“you okay baby?” he giggles, taking his place next to you, running a finger lightly down your arm.

“that was fucking incredible, you’re incredible.” you say rolling over to face him. he smiles at your words, bringing you in for a kiss before pulling you to his chest. the warmth of his bare skin, lulling you to a sleepy state.

“can we go to sleep now? you wore me out.” you ask, cuddled to his side.

“of course y/n.” he says pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i hope i dream about you.” you mumble closing your eyes.

“me too.” he giggles as your breathing slows.

“my beautiful beautiful baby. i love you so much.” he whispers into your hair, your heart fluttering, falling asleep very quickly after.

#matt rempe x reader #matt rempe #matt rempe fluff #matt rempe smut #ny rangers #hockey imagine #hockey smut #turcs’ talk

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 10 months

Text

By: Chloe Cole

Published: July 28, 2023

On Thursday, her 19th birthday, Chloe Cole testified to Congress with a “final warning” that medical treatments to change the gender of confused children is horrific. Cole, who was given surgery as a teenager to become male and soon regretted it, said what she needed most was therapy, not a scalpel. Here is what she told lawmakers:

My name is Chloe Cole and I am a de-transitioner.

Another way to put that would be: I used to believe that I was born in the wrong body and the adults in my life, whom I trusted, affirmed my belief, and this caused me lifelong, irreversible harm.

I speak to you today as a victim of one of the biggest medical scandals in the history of the United States of America.

I speak to you in the hope that you will have the courage to bring the scandal to an end, and ensure that other vulnerable teenagers, children and young adults don’t go through what I went through.

Deceit & coercion

At the age of 12, I began to experience what my medical team would later diagnose as gender dysphoria.

I was well into an early puberty, and I was very uncomfortable with the changes that were happening to my body. I was intimidated by male attention.

And when I told my parents that I felt like a boy, in retrospect, all I meant was that I hated puberty, that I wanted this newfound sexual tension to go away.

I looked up to my brothers a little bit more than I did to my sisters.

I came out as transgender in a letter I sent on the dining room table.

My parents were immediately concerned.

They felt like they needed to get outside help from medical professionals.

But this proved to be a mistake.

It immediately set our entire family down a path of ideologically motivated deceit and coercion.

The general specialist I was taken to see told my parents that I needed to be put on puberty-blocking drugs right away.

They asked my parents a simple question: Would you rather have a dead daughter or a living transgender son?

The choice was enough for my parents to let their guard down, and in retrospect, I can’t blame them.

This is the moment that we all became victims of so-called gender-affirming care.

I was fast-tracked onto puberty blockers and then testosterone.

The resulting menopausal-like hot flashes made focusing on school impossible.

I still get joint pains and weird pops in my back.

But they were far worse when I was on the blockers.

Forever changed

A month later, when I was 13, I had my first testosterone injection.

It has caused permanent changes in my body: My voice will forever be deeper, my jawline sharper, my nose longer, my bone structure permanently masculinized, my Adam’s apple more prominent, my fertility unknown.

I look in the mirror sometimes, and I feel like a monster.

I had a double mastectomy at 15.

They tested my amputated breasts for cancer.

That was cancer-free, of course; I was perfectly healthy.

There is nothing wrong with my still-developing body, or my breasts other than that, as an insecure teenage girl, I felt awkward about it.

After my breasts were taken away from me, the tissue was incinerated — before I was able to legally drive.

I had a huge part of my future womanhood taken from me.

I will never be able to breastfeed.

I struggle to look at myself in the mirror at times.

I still struggle to this day with sexual dysfunction.

And I have massive scars across my chest and the skin grafts that they used, that they took of my nipples, are weeping fluid today, and they’re grafted into a more masculine positioning, they said.

After surgery, my grades in school plummeted.

Everything that I went through did nothing to address the underlying mental health issues that I had.

And my doctors with their theories on gender that all my problems would go away as soon as I was surgically transformed into something that vaguely resembled a boy — their theories were wrong.

The drugs and surgeries changed my body, but they did not and could not change the basic reality that I am, and forever will be, a female.

Depths of despair

When my specialists first told my parents they could have a dead daughter or a live transgender son, I wasn’t suicidal.

I was a happy child who struggled because she was different.

However at 16, after my surgery, I did become suicidal.

I’m doing better now, but my parents almost got the dead daughter promised to them by my doctors.

My doctor had almost created the very nightmare they said they were trying to avoid.

So what message do I want to bring to American teenagers and their families?

I didn’t need to be lied to.

I needed compassion.

I needed to be loved.

I needed to be given therapy that helped me work through my issues, not affirmed my delusion that by transforming into a boy, it would solve all my problems.

We need to stop telling 12-year-olds that they were born wrong, that they are right to reject their own bodies and feel uncomfortable with their own skin.

We need to stop telling children that puberty is an option, that they can choose what kind of puberty they will go through, just like they can choose what clothes to wear or what music to listen to.

Pseudoscience

Puberty is a rite of passage to adulthood, not a disease to be mitigated.

Today, I should be at home with my family celebrating my 19th birthday.

Instead, I’m making a desperate plea to my elected representatives.

Learn the lessons from other medical scandals, like the opioid crisis.

Recognize that doctors are human, too, and sometimes they are wrong.

My childhood was ruined along with thousands of de-transitioners that I know through our networks.

This needs to stop. You alone can stop it.

Enough children have already been victimized by this barbaric pseudoscience.

Please let me be your final warning.

Thank you.

Might as well call her a murtad and kufr.

"The medical industry mutilated me, maybe don't mutilate other kids," shouldn't require bravery or renouncing an ideology.

Reminder: A minor under the age of 18 is too young to agree to a cellphone contract. 🤦‍♀️

#Chloe Cole #detrans #detransition #gender ideology #queer theory #medical malpractice #medical scandal #medical mutilation #gender affirming #gender affirming care #affirmation model #double mastectomy #gender cult #sex trait modification #genderwang #religion is a mental illness

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kaidabakugou · 1 year

Text

PAIRING: FOREST GOD VIDAR! BAKUGOU X ELF! READER

WORD COUNT: 7.4K

A/N: proud to finally be able to share with you guys my submission for Touch of Divine Rush Collab by @dark-mnjiro, i love Norse Mythology and had lots of fun writing this one so i hope you enjoy my little knowledge dump plus my interpretation of what Vidar’s journey would look like after Ragnarök

i also made a GLOSSARY to help you understand some of the terms and old Nordic language used without the need of researching it yourselves, please enjoy and tysm for reading!

The air felt thick as ash rained down upon the battle grounds, the remnants of the wrath from the towering flames of the fire giant evident all around as the silent god took in his surroundings. His foot still perched atop Fenrir’s fiery jaw as he looked down at the mangled wolf, a sharp pain making itself known on his palm when adrenaline started to subside from his body. Noticing one of Fenrir’s fangs pierced into his right hand where he held the beast’s jaw open seizing it before bracing his lower foot, adorned with his magical leather shoe, against its lower jaw and tearing it apart as the prophecy intended. Successfully avenging his father, Odin, after his journey ended being devoured by the foul monster.

Bakugou could barely see a few feet around him, the sky burned black as the flames reached all the way up to the stars, consuming them as not even the cosmos could evade their fate of being swallowed by the sea. Ragnarök, the final battle, had finally progressed to its final phase. And as the world burns in flames, Bakugou couldn't help but to inhale the stinging smoke around him, feeling it stain his lungs as he closed his eyes towards the black sky.

Clearing his head from the chaos that surrounds him, beginning to feel the icy touch of Helheim against his scorching skin as he calls upon the forces of nature whom he trusted the most to guide him through this new journey.

Silence.

A small smile adorned the god’s features as he accepted his fate, although destined to survive the destruction, he found it hard to believe in prophecies when the rumbling of the ocean’s hunger was making the ground beneath his feet tremble as it started to sink into the depths of the unknown. But the silence in his ears reassured him that he will once again rule over a regenerated earth.

Silence had been Bakugou’s strongest companion, known as the silent god for he desired nothing more than to be left alone to rule the forests who were bound by close ties to him where nothing but solitude and deep silence reigned. And his desires would soon be answered as droplets of water began to slowly quench his stained skin, the god’s deep vermilion irises fluttering open as the skies poured down on him. The flames around him began to die down as the sea rumbled again and Bakugou mentally kicked himself for doubting the Norn’s prophecy as their words echoed in his head.

“Early begun.”

“Further spun.”

“One day done.”

“With joy once more won.”

Ragnarök wasn't the complete end of the world. Out of the sea, the earth started to rise again, new and filled with all shades of green where fields of grains soon began to grow without the hand of any god, human or elf to aid it. A new sun shined down upon the fresh world, and soon a new moon would follow suit as they both traveled the same path as their ancestors and returned to their old lawful regularity to keep earth from seeing the darkness of Ragnarök ever again.

The surviving gods met at Ithavoll, once again a safe place for the gods to regather themselves as they built a new city and joined forces to bring earth back to its original splendor. But after a while, once the tasks at hand were complete and life on earth was once again restored, Bakugou left Ithavoll to take his throne in Landvidi, the wide lands.

Where his glorious palace eagerly waits for his return, decorated with large green boughs and only the most delicate of flowers in the midst of an impenetrable primeval forest where he could peacefully reign among the silence of the trees. Where anyone who dared disturb his silence, will receive no mercy and awaken the same mighty god that tore Fenrir’s devilish jaws with his bare hands. Soon, everyone across the realm knew better than to enter the forests uninvited, for all who entered were never to be seen again.

All except one.

Ever since you were a child, your mother would warn you to never go near the woods just off the threshold of Alfheim, the land of the elves. Hearing stories and tales of how those who had crossed were turned into corpses and left to rot by the border as a warning or were never to be heard from again.

Tales of giant man-eating beasts that would starve themselves and wait patiently for whatever ignorant soul dared set foot into their territory. Some would even say that the surviving dragons resided deep within the monstrous shadows of the tall trees, that reached so far up into the sky that no daylight could seep through. Blood-thirsty bees and spiders that would drain their victims of their blood to the very last drop, leaving them nothing but a mess of bones and dried flesh for the forest soil to consume.

And those who managed to avoid such terrible fate and considered themselves lucky enough to reach deep within the forest to find the triumphant god’s palace in search of hidden treasures that only the remaining son of Odin could possess, would only be left wishing they would have died at the claws of the forests beasts, for they imagine their death would've been quicker compared to the merciless torture the retired god would greet them with before watering his rare carnivorous plants with their blood and feeding them their remains to keep them hungry for more.

But you would argue the opposite.

The forest has always been kind to you, ever since you first stepped foot inside of it, back when you were just a small elf beginning to learn the elven ways of magic and strayed a little too far off the border in search of kalonji, a white-petaled flower that only grew near the thresholds of the forest and was a necessary component for brewing medicine due to the healing properties of its seeds.

But by the time you finished collecting the rare flowers, you had already entered the forest and had no idea on how to return home. The warnings of your mother started to echo inside your head as panic began to settle in the more you looked around and the vast forest seemed to appear the same no matter which direction you faced. Sinking to your knees as tears started to cascade down your cheeks, dropping the basket of flowers beside you as you buried your face in your hands waiting for whatever horrid fate that would end your sorrows.

Your choked sobs and sniffles were certain to attract one of the many beasts your mother had told you about, but when you started to hear the ruffling of leaves in steady steps getting closer, you never imagined coming face to face with one of the most beautiful creatures you had ever laid eyes on.

A white stag with the most piercing red eyes stared down at you warily. Large, majestic antlers adorned the sides of his head, resembling the leafless branches of the winter trees, as he cautiously smelled around you, taking in your scent while your cries died down in your throat as you stared up in awe at the towering giant. His large hooves were the size of your head, and his long legs were taller than you as you took in their size while he circled around you before settling on your opposite side.

Taking one last whiff of you before turning his snout towards your basket, inhaling the rich aroma of the kalonji before gently stealing one. Raising his head to stand tall in all his glory as he looks around whilst he eats it. You reached over and grabbed a flower as well, bringing it up to your nose to take in its bitter notes within its subtle floral fragrance before presenting it to the stag. To which he happily accepted as he lowered his neck towards you once again, taking your offering before beginning to walk past you and into the trees, stopping momentarily to look back at you only to find you already at his side as you two made your way through the extensive forest.

You were unsure of where the stag was leading you, but you figured that sticking by his side would be better than waiting alone for the icy souls of Hel to take you. Taking in the vibrant colors of the forest as you found it hard to believe that so much beauty could hold such terrors, but you weren't going to remain present long enough to see it for yourself.

Along the way you encountered small white wood aster and yellow trout lilies that also possessed many medicinal benefits, taking some and putting them inside your basket for later while your started to carefully weave their small branches together, although your inexperienced hands were still clumsy, you still managed to keep all the flowers secure until finally closing it into a circlet. You've been so distracted with the flower crown in your hand that you hadn't noticed the stag had led you back to the threshold of the forest, being aware of your location once he stopped a few feet away from the treeline where you could see the busy city of Alfheim just past the bushes.

Excited that you were going to be able to return home safely, you thank the stag as he looks down at you, giving you what felt like a nod before turning his body to leave. But stopping in his tracks when you ask him to wait as he gives you a confused look, watching as you walk up to him and offer him the crown you'd been building the whole path back. Those piercing vermilion eyes softening as he stares back down into your eager ones before lowering himself to your height, presenting you the top of his head while being careful not to hurt you with his antlers as you gently place the flower crown between them.

The different shades of yellow and green contrasting from his unique white fur beautifully as you feel his cold nose poke the side of your cheek before leaving a long wet lick on it, making you giggle before waving him off as you make your way down the hill and back to the city whilst he disappears back into the deep forest.

And ever since, each time you've gone to collect more kalonji, you'd find small and rather odd gifts near the flowers. Sometimes it would be random objects like polished stones and crystals, pretty feathers of all colors and sizes, and even sharp teeth that you could only imagine belonged to a creature far larger than those of these lands.

But mostly, you'd find only the rarest of flowers placed neatly upon the grass, looking so out of scenery as they wait for your arrival against the green fields. Flowers that you couldn't even begin to name since you'd never seen any others quite like them. Some would possess the most vibrant colors your eyes had ever seen, and others would have the most fragrant aromas to carry them despite their subdued appearance. Whatever the case, you'd always look forward to the little presents that awaited you on each journey to the border, and back then you were always so curious as to who could be leaving them for you to find at such opportune times.

But now, nearly a vicennial of winters later, you still look forward to the same little surprises, only now you are well aware of who is responsible for leaving such treasures.

Making your way past the same threshold, you walk through the dense trees you've grown so accustomed to. Ever since that eventful day, the forest has always been kind and welcoming to you. Presenting you with an abundance of the same exotic flowers you would find when you were little, showing you paths filled with the same rare and delicate crystals you'd receive on occasions, and even the few animals you've had the fortune of meeting on your different journeys have grown a liking to you.

But your reason to return to this forest always remained the same.

Landvidi possessed only the most beautiful of landscapes, filled with the highest trees and tallest branches in the realm, lush vegetation and fresh flowers. Past the high grasslands, in the heart of the forest known as The Hall of Landvidi, is where the silent god’s palace is located. Surrounded by an even greater portion of earth’s natural beauty that paints a picture of solitude, for no being other than the retired warrior god could reach.

And as the protector of these lands, filled with ambition and strength, he is determined to ensure it remains that way. He has seen what destruction is like, lived it himself during the great battle of the destruction of the cosmos and all that lived within them, and will stop at nothing to keep the peace.

Bakugou is the strongest of the gods, following Thor, and after fulfilling his fate as an avenger and brave warrior, his rebirth after Ragnarök symbolizes sustainability and regrowth. Being the only god known to be tied with nature, as most gods were connected to the sea through Heimdall, the watchman of the gods, Bakugou had always felt his soul to be more at peace within the wide lands. And even though he swore to never allow any trespassers into his territory, ever since he heard your cries all those winters ago, something within him told him you'd be the exception.

As you descend down the stoned path towards the small tunnel under the large oak trees, you take in a deep breath when the soft breeze hits your skin, the tunnel is formed by the widened crowns of the trees that spread and reached the branches of the oak trees on the opposite side, creating a beautiful passage towards the hidden waterfall ahead.

From the oak branches, bellflowers of all colors hanged down decorating the path with a mesmerizing view. You reached up and collected some of the violet-blue flowers, making sure to grab several of their leaves as well. Although their petals had a mild taste, the leaves can be quite refreshing, and you knew the one you seeked would enjoy them.

Securing them inside your basket next to the fresh apples you'd collected from your orchard, you resumed your way down the oak passage as the sound of the waterfall filled your ears. The Querencia Waterfall is the most beautiful of all the waterfalls in Landvidi, located just at the entrance of The Hall a few miles from the palace. It's the only waterfall in the land that’s so high, when the sun is at its peak some of its rays seep through the tall crowns of the oak trees, forming rainbows that look like they're cascading down along with the stream when they capture the water.

Surrounded by ancient willow trees, the lake where it pools contains powerful waters filled with passion and love from the root of the weeping willows that are believed to provide a nourishing embrace of fertility and healing. These were the only willow trees in all of Landvidi, after Ragnarök they became quite rare to find throughout the realms, so you were astonished when the white stag brought you here on one of your visits. Welcoming you into the water to bathe while he feasted on some of the exotic flowers that floated around different areas of the lake.

You smiled to yourself as you think back on that day, remembering how nurturing the water felt around your body for the first time as its magic began to absorb into your skin. Your heart swelling when you recall feeling something being placed atop your head, only to find the stag adorning your hair with the water hyacinths he collected, rounding them on your head by tangling them with strands of your hair to the best of his abilities until it formed a circlet as his own way of thanking you for the crown you gave him on your first encounter.

You've been coming to Querencia ever since to meet with the stag, bringing him only the freshest fruits from your orchard and collecting flowers from the forest on your journeys to make more crowns for him as a thank you for all the treasures he leaves on the threshold for you. Sometimes he'd wait for your arrival near the berry bushes just off the edge of the forest and escort you through the wide lands filled with birch trees where many wildflowers favor growing near their roots so you can collect them. Other times, you venture into the forest at first daylight and wait for him in the water.

Today was one of those days as you reach the willow trees closest to the waterfall, settling your basket down near its roots as you begin to strip your garbs, folding them by the basket before entering the water.

Submerging yourself deeper as the warm water sinks into your skin, the soft current wraps you in a state of tranquility whilst you absorb its properties before soon enough you spot the majestic antlers of the white stag. Smiling when you meet his gaze, noticing how his doe eyes seem to light up when he meets yours before entering the water with you, gracefully making his way towards you as water splashes around him from the force of his hooves. Giggling when he presses his wet nose against yours before lowering his soft furred forehead to your damped one. Something that had become a habit when greeting each other.

“God morgon, you came rather quickly today!”, you whisper against him as you greet him in the old language.

Although the old tongue was not commonly used anymore after the great destruction, you noticed you get a reaction from the stag when using some of the old words, almost as if he understood them better than the modern tongue.

“I brought you something!”, you eagerly tell him, causing his ears to perk up at your announcement as you lift yourself from the water and start walking back towards the willow roots where you left your basket, the stag sauntering alongside you.

Watching as you open your basket to reveal the shiniest of apples, his tongue dragging against his snout at the sight as he leans forward to eat one when you offer it to him, knowing your orchard produced some of the juiciest and most delicious ones in the realm after you watered them with the water you'd collected from the Querencia river. Offering him the bellflower leaves next as he accepted them and eating one yourself before diving back into the water.

Fully submerging yourself as the stag followed suit, his smooth white fur now a light gray as it clung to him, droplets of water dripping from his antlers and falling against your skin when he circled closer for you to hold on to him as you swam together.

This was your usual routine on the days you'd meet on the waterfall, bathing together and feeding each other different fruit and flowers you'd bring to one another until the sun would start to disappear behind the mountains, indicating it was time to return home before nightfall. Currently seated on his back while he paraded you around the lake while eating some of the fruits on the bushes near the waterfall, sighing as you wished the stag could communicate with you further, even though you already communicated in your own unique way, exchanging gazes and gifts, and sharing intimate moments such as these that many would thought impossible to be as close to a rare white stag as you are with this one, you still wished he could speak sometimes and be able to tell you stories from the forest he knew so well.

“I wished you could speak to me”, you express as you rest your head against his neck, feeling the patches of hair beginning to fluff up from the breeze hitting his back where you laid. Ceasing his chewing at the sound of your voice as his ears flick at your words, turning his head to the side to look at you before softly snorting while rattling his antlers to signal you to alight and join him in the water again, to which you comply as you sink back in and circle him until you're facing him again.

Smiling when he presses his cold wet nose against your stomach, snuffling up the center of your chest while leaving gentle licks on your skin before reaching your neck to nuzzle his jaw there as your hands pet along his broad shoulders and trailing them up his slender neck. He gives your side another lick before stepping back a few steps further from you as you stare back at him confused. Unsure of his behavior since he has never done this before when bathing together.

But just as you begin to approach him again, you stop when the water around him changes its movements, once a steady stream now rapidly swirling with such force you could feel it pull you in closer. Trying your best to steady yourself in the water to swim away but as quickly as it came it dissipated, the water returned to its peaceful flow as if nothing had changed. Except now the white stag was no longer there, and in his place stood a man you'd never seen before.

A tall blonde with a strong physique of that of a warrior, adorned with battle scars and tattoos of old nordic runes on his chest traveling all the way down his abdomen and disappearing below his waist submerged in the water that you couldn't quite make out from your position. Rows of different stone necklaces, identical to the ones you gifted the stag a few winters back embellished his neck and a circlet of flowers sat atop his ash locks, the same crown of flowers you had placed on the stag not so long ago when you were riding him.

You stood there frozen in place, still confused as to what had happened to the stag that was just standing before your eyes mere moments ago. Snapping out of your daze when the man started to come closer to you, water rippling around him with each step, similar to when the stag enters the water and it splashes from the might of his hooves. The man stopped in front of you as you peered up at him, the sun seeping through the trees hitting his chiseled face to reveal his piercing vermilion eyes.

The same pools of red that you'd recognize anywhere, the eyes staring back at you were the ones of the stag, eyes you'd look forward to seeing everyday when you woke up, a deep crimson you'd come to find in all things that reminded you of the stag, in the ripe apples of your orchard that he loved so much, in the rare red lilies that only bloomed during the early times of spring in the valley near the waterfall, in the polished pyropes stones he’d bring you every late winter and now in the body of a man whose presence felt familiar the more you took in the energy around him.

He smiled when he noticed everything beginning to make sense to you when your widened eyes began to soften.

“Elskan mín”, his voice low but eager as he wraps his arms around your waist and hoists you up to spin you around in the air, causing you to secure your arms around his neck while laughing before holding you close to him. Wet skin pressed against each other while strong arms keep you close as your legs instinctively wrap around his center.

Lowering your face towards him to nudge your nose against his before pressing your foreheads together, just like you would with the stag only now his nose is warm and the dampness of his forehead matches yours.

“How come you hadn’t done this earlier?”, your eyes searching his as you notice him peering at your lips while you speak before meeting your curious gaze again.

“Didn’t want to scare you away”, he answers simply whilst pressing kisses along your jaw sporadically.

“Why now then?”, you push while allowing your digits to travel up and down his nape, tangling with his hair.

“It just felt right”, he whispers while fondling one of your braids with the charms of your mother, she had removed them from her locks and secured them in yours before passing so you could have a piece of her with you when she could no longer be present in body but carry on in soul and spirit.

His hand traveled down to your shoulder where old nordic runes adorned your skin as well, only yours possessed sacred sigils of the old elven folklore, while his runes were of a time before Ragnarök. Which made you wonder if this was the retired god of vengeance everyone was so wary of, he evidently possessed the powers of one and if anyone was to allow the welcoming treatment the forest has presented you with all these years, it was him.

You reach for the hand still tracing the runes on your skin to cradle it in yours as you turn it so his palm could be facing you, whilst he watched as you inspected his hand. Smiling again when you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, almost able to see the ripples of electricity in your head as you put all the details together, a habit of yours that he loved to observe throughout the years since meeting each other.

To Bakugou, out of all the creatures that had stepped foot inside his forest seeking his aid, you were the most beautiful he had ever seen, no flower from his garden could compare to you, and since the day he met you he swore that one day you would become his goddess, and he has remained by your side since, waiting for this exact moment that he'd be able to finally show himself to you and solidify your love.

He watched as you traced the scar on his palm, a reminder of the path he once walked guided by the burdens of fate. Your eyes meet his again when you finally put all the clues together, noticing how he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, and to him you were, for you had become his purpose after no longer having interest in matters of war and retiring to spend eternity within the silence of the wide lands.

“You're him… the silent one”, only receiving a nod in return as more answers arise in your head, but settling on the one that dominated your thoughts the most.

“Why me?”

“It's always been you, elskan mín… and now we are able to seal our love for one another.”

All your questions are melted away when he pulls you towards him and captures your lips in a kiss so fervent that causes your insides to stir with emotion. Only pulling away when the need for air becomes inescapable as you pant against each other's lips.

“I’ve waited so long to do that”, he exhales while making his way towards the shore with you still secured in his arms.

The fresh spring breeze hitting your skin when you leave the comfort of the water makes you shiver, a small hint of winter still present in the air as the forest was still transitioning from the stabbing cold into the warm energetic glow that this season brought along with it.

Your nipples pebbling at the loss of heat from the god’s body when he sets you down on the soft clearing of moss and wildflowers under the tallest willow tree. Something that doesn't go unnoticed by him as he peers down at you, now able to openly devour you with his eyes whilst you lay under him, strong tatted arms caging you between them as he lowers himself to capture your lips once again.

All the tales of the remaining son of the once All-Father were of his brash and merciless demeanour, ones that were bound to inflict fear upon anyone that heard them, but all those stories drifted into distant whispers of the wind the more you got lost in him. His touch was firm yet delicate, something that would seem impossible for his physique with such imposing structure, but it was possible. His touch was filled with love and spoke the words his voice failed to express. And only now that his lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along your skin, is that it becomes evident to you the extent of said love as you look back on all the years you've spent together.

Courting the other in the shape of flowers, stones and apples, in a dance of mighty passion that led to this exact moment as he settled himself between your legs, positioning your thighs above his broad shoulders whilst his fingers traced informal shapes on them. His eyes fixated on the tuft of hair above your cunt as he sinks down to bury his nose in it, inhaling your scent as you watch his eyes darken from finally being able to delve in the thing he craved the most after so long.

Maroon eyes meeting yours while his lips follow the trail of hair down towards your sensitive lips, the feel of his hot breath alone making you clench around nothing as you watch him hover above your cunt, puckering his lips so a long strip of spit falls from them and lands on your clit. Watching as it slides through your folds before pressing his tongue flat on your entrance and licking all the way up to your clit, repeating the action as he falls into rhythm. Feeling yourself get increasingly wetter with each swipe of his tongue while your chest starts to rise and fall unevenly.

Getting lost in the pleasure as your hips begin to buck when his tongue focuses on your clit, circling it before rapidly flicking against it causing something to ripple inside of you. He wraps his lips around the sensitive bud while his eyes look up in awe at the way you arch into him, your cries unleashing the might in him that had been forgotten for centuries as he sucks on your clit with more vehemence, needing to hear you sing for him louder.

Increasing his movements as he begins to suck on your folds, the feeling of his lips messily fondling with yours sends chills across your skin as you slowly rock your hips along with him. Your hands reach for his where they rest on your hip bones as he easily opens them for you to tangle your fingers with his whilst he continues to increasingly devour your cunt. The wet smacking sounds of his lips clashing with the ones of the waterfall as you feel yourself get closer and closer to your release.

The sweet taste of your fluids on his tongue drove Bakugou into a frenzy, lapping and eating your cunt while whined grunts resonated from deep in his chest, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. Arching deeper into his touch as wanton moans escape your lips, white spots clouding your vision when he buries his face further into your cunt, nose rubbing on your clit while he drinks every last drop of your release, not stopping until he gets his fill.

Parting from your cunt once your whines die down into heavy breaths, face stained with your fluids that he pays no mind to as he dives back in to place a tender kiss against your clit before trailing up to the tuft of hair, savoring your scent as he buries his nose in them again and runs his lips against them. Pulling your hairs between them, the slight tug making you peer down at him as you meet his eyes, filled with love and adoration mixed with something else, something more sinister and hungrier that hasn't been sated completely.

Watching as he presses a kiss to your hairs as well before continuing to trail them up your abdomen, never breaking eye contact as he reaches the valley of your breast. His hands untangle from yours as they glide against your sides to cup your boobs, shaking them in his grasp before capturing one of your pert nipples in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it while he sucks them harder and slowly pulls back until it flicks out of his mouth with a wet slurp, to then switch and give the other nipple the same treatment. Alternating between both breasts as your whines encouraged him on, not stopping his ministrations until your chest was swollen and overstimulated, almost making you reach your climax once again but pulling away to edge you on as he continued to lay kisses against your chest before moving towards your neck.

Shifting from tender to ravenous when he starts to mark your skin with his teeth, nipping across your throat until settling where your neck meets your shoulder. Feeling his tongue drag against your skin followed by a sloppy kiss before his teeth scrape your delicate skin, your cunt clenching in anticipation as you wait for him to finally give in to his desires.

Bakugou could hear his heart beat loudly inside his ears as he began to sink his teeth in you, pressing down until the skin gave away against his force, the rush of blood drowning his taste buds making the loud beating cease into silence as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The mighty god had left the path of war behind a long time ago, but one's nature can’t be so easily avoided as the craving for disaster and vengeance haunted him at times from a period where the blood of his enemies would quench his skin, finding its way to his lips, reminding him what victory tastes like.

So as the savory metallic taste pours down his throat, he can't contain the groan that escapes him as a chill runs down his spine making him grind against you whilst your sweet cries pull him from his silence. Withdrawing from your skin to lap up the remaining rush of blood before cradling your face in his hand, holding your jaw firmly as he presses his lips to yours. Kissing you with such might you feel he could almost devour you through the kiss as the taste of your own blood mixing with each other's spit sends you both in a trance as you continue savoring it.

Bucking your hips to grind against his cock as his hips follow suit, beads of precum mixing with your arousal as he rubs his length between your folds whilst his tongue tangles with yours. Too engrossed in the kiss to pull away, you sneak your hand between your bodies and guide his cock to align with you as he slowly begins to sink into your cunt. The stretch of his cock sends a hot wave of pleasure down your back as your cunt sucks him in further, inch by inch as your fingers curl around ash blonde strands.

Your breaths become labored as you part from each other, lips swollen and red as he fully sinks into your warmth. The grip from your silken walls forces him to brace himself as he places his arms next to your head to keep himself from collapsing when he feels his thighs twitch. Pressing his forehead to yours when his hips start to rock into you, slow and steady at first before gradually increasing his thrusts into a brutal pace that drives both of you into a babbling mess.

Your wetness gushing messily, soaking the untamed strands of ash hair on his pelvis as they bounce against your own, before dribbling onto your skin causing it to spread in sticky strands every time his hips part from yours to snap against them again. Strangled moans mixing with the sloppy sounds of your bodies as the sensations become overwhelmingly good.

Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you look up at him, trying your best to answer him when he asks you to tell him how good it feels between the curses in old tongue and heavy grunts that escape him. Responding to what feels like incoherent babbles as your mind melts away the more he pounds into your sloppy pussy.

Bakugou could feel his balls twitch as he neared his release, but he needed you to come undone with him and make an even greater mess on his cock for him. Shifting his weight on one arm while the other gives your breast a quick tug before reaching between your bodies as he starts drawing quick circles against your clit with his thumb. Sending an electric shock of pleasure through your body as your breath gets stuck in your throat before you start coming apart.

Squeezing around him hard as a flow of arousal gushes between your bodies as it stains both of you and leaks down into the soil beneath you. Your walls clenching around him mixed with the obscene sounds coming from your pussy sending him over the edge as well as he buries his cock to the hilt, filling you up as the hand on the side of your head tangles with your hair when yours tug harder at the one on his nape.

The tears finally spilling from your eyes as hot - impossibly hot - globs of creamy cum spill against your sultry cunt, searing your insides as you find yourself never wanting this moment to end, wishing to always be plugged full of the vengeful gods mighty cum. Feeling the final pulses of his cock inside you as his head falls down against your shoulder, smiling to yourself between heavy breaths at the wet feel of his ecstasy filled tears smearing against your skin but choosing not to say anything as he fully allows his weight on top of your whilst your arms wrap around him.

Giggling at the soft lips pressing feather-light kisses on the side of your neck as they slowly trail up towards your lips, capturing them in a gentle kiss while his fingers caress your scalp where he previously had a grip on your hair.

A cold breeze pulls you both from your trance as the rustling of the willow tree above you fills your ears, once again reminding of the remnants from the harsh winter as goosebumps erupt from your skin. You notice how the waterfall no longer has a rainbow flowing through it, indicating that the sun has already begun to set, and you need to return home quickly.

You've never stayed in the forest long enough to see nightfall, and the stag would always make sure to escort you back to the treeline safely before sunset, but today time had slipped from your hands and you began to worry. Bakugou is quick to notice your concern as he wraps his arms around your center to hold you close, burying his head in the crook of your neck again and taking a deep breath as he inhales your warm scent.

“I have to leave”, you remind him but still reciprocate his actions by wrapping your arms around him again as you also hated the idea of having to depart from this moment.

“Stay”, he whispers against your skin followed by a swipe of his tongue against the dried blood around the punctures on your neck.

“There is nowhere for us to st-”, you began to dissent, but the forest god silenced you by quickly pulling you into a kiss once more. Grin on his features that you couldn't help but smile in return despite your disapproving eyes.

“I want to show you something”, he guides your legs to wrap around his waist before rising from the ground with you secured in his arms as he carries you through a path of the forest you hadn't explored before. The sun was already halfway past the mountains, making it hard to see, but just as you were about to express your concerns to him, a light in the corner of your eye caught your attention. A small blinking light followed by another until an entire cloud of dancing lights was illuminating your path.

After Ragnarök, it was rare to catch a glimpse of certain insects, fireflies being one of them, so seeing so many in one place had your jaw slack as you watched how they gracefully danced under the upcoming moonlight whilst they guided you through the forest.

Bakugou kept walking through the field of thinning willow trees that started to morph into magnificent maple trees that even with only the dim light of the fireflies, you could vividly see their vibrant colors. These acer trees had also become a rarity after the great destruction, and the analgesic in their bark was of high command to aid as a remedy for some illnesses, which made you wonder why he hadn't shown you this part of the forest before. The stag had always granted you access to all the rare medicinal flora found in these lands so you found it odd that he kept this area hidden from you.

Your confusion only grew more as you made your way deeper into the darker trails of the maples, where the path seemed to end by a sealed corridor blocked off with an impenetrable wall of large roots and maple leaves.

“Blómi”, you hear Bakugou whisper as the sound of creaking wood follows, watching as the roots begin to untangle from each other and the leaves falls to the ground revealing a path of lit stones descending into a large garden with a great abundance of flowers, leading towards a large structure.

Your jaw fell slack again, as you wouldn't have imagined that this is where the silent god kept his palace, nor that such a vibrant area filled with such sublime greatness of nature could be hidden amid the sacred gloom of the maples. Bakugou couldn't help but smile as he carried you through his garden whilst you stared in complete enchantment, filled with joy that he could finally share his greatest treasures with you.

The inside of the palace was equally as marvelous as the outside and had a beautiful golden fountain at the very center with small creeks that led to other corridors of the palace, ones you couldn't wait to explore once daylight came again. As for now, the mighty god was still carrying you towards what you could only imagine were his chambers as he ascended the grand staircase near the main entryway. Revealing an archway adorned with flowy white curtains that led inside his bedchamber where he set you down on the spacious bed at the center of the room. The bedding was soft and cozy as you sink deeper into the comfort of them, noticing how the moon sat perfectly above the palace where you had a clear view through the sunroof above the bed.

“Hí, elska”, you heard Bakugou whisper next to you, offering you a coconut shell filled with water.

“Takk!”, you smile while grabbing the shell and drinking from it, finishing its contents before settling back down on the bed as a yawn escapes you, sleep finally catching up to you after such a fulfilling day. Settling against his chest whilst Bakugou worked his fingers through some of the tangles bathing earlier might have caused.

“God natt, ásynja mín”, he boasts, a grin spreading at your widened eyes looking up at him.

“Ásynja?”, you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly to which he only nods in return as you match his smile.

“Yes, ásynja mín, for everything I own is now yours as well”, he adds while nodding towards the room, confirming that he meant the palace and everything within his forest was now yours to rule alongside him for eternity.

And you couldn't be happier as you drift off to sleep against the god’s chest, neither could him as he placed a gentle kiss against your forehead before peering up at the moon. Asking his father if he was watching as he finally found the one with whom his soul delights in after many years of hard battles, he has completed the prophecy he set for himself all those winters ago when he met you, now with a content smile as he buried his nose in your head, excited for what the future awaits as the rulers of Landvidi.

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jackdaw-kraai · 1 year

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More writers should consider just not telling their readers all of shit. Just don’t tell them stuff. What’s that monster? Fuck if you’ll find out. How did that weird as hell landscape marker come to be? Wouldn’t you like to know. How does the magic work? Just believe it does, motherfucker.

Readers don’t need to know everything. In fact, I absolutely advocate for not telling them certain stuff. If the characters don’t know, neither do they. If the narrator is omniscient? Lol no they aren’t.

Is this necessary for every story? Probably not. There’s plenty of good stories you could write while explaining all of it. But leaving those gaps, leaving those holes, can bring a story to life. Sometimes things happen in life that just… happen. Fucked if anyone knows why. Sometimes information gets lost. Sometimes information is hidden. But even beyond that, it expands the narrative.

If you explain when and why and how the murder monster became a murder monster, well… that’s forever set in stone now. Now they know. But if you leave it blank, absent of explanation, any explanation… it becomes an unknown. It forces your audience to wonder. Makes them think. That, more than you might think, makes a story get into your audience’s head, and once you’re there, you can make some real impacts.

So yeah, tell a story. But sometimes? Don’t tell your readers something. Make them fill in the blanks themselves.

#writing

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ladylightning · 9 months

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supernatural s2 is SO GOOD because every decision has more weight because the after life is still unknown to us. we know there is something after death but we don't know quite what that is. the season starts with tessa the reaper begging dean to come with her. to where? she cannot say. when john dies it’s devastating to the brothers that he’s no longer here but elsewhere. but it’s even more devastating as they come to the slow realization that elsewhere is probably hell, whatever that looks like. sam and dean don't know anything more than the audience does about hell.

there is an effort to exorcise the possessed and save them instead of letting them die because there is no promise of heaven to be made. the ghost in roadkill wants to know what happens when she crosses over and sam and dean just don’t know. where do the monsters go when they die? are there angels? is there a god? sam and dean don’t know. sam more than anything wants to believe. and secretly dean does too. but they just don’t know.

when sam dies where does he go? dean doesn’t know. we never get to see it. and more than that. does dean truly believe that he would be sent to the same hereafter as his brother after everything he has done? all dean knows is that there is a way to damn your eternal soul to hell and there is a way to bring his brother back from the unknown and he will choose that path without hesitation over and over and over again.

the second the angels are introduced we lose that sense of unknown. while the stakes are higher in seasons 4-5 the second we can see behind the curtain it’s over. yes you can damn the world and start the apocalypse but at least you KNOW. you know there is an afterlife. a heaven. a hell. a hereafter. and all the people who die will end up will end up where they belong so how guilty can you feel using a demon knife to kill an innocent? how wrong is it to drain the host for blood? they’ll end up in heaven after all. no more pain. and that is how only the winchester family drama becomes important to the brothers, because they KNOW the end is not the end. there’s more than just ghosts and demons and reapers. there is a heaven. and if there is a heaven every wrong bad thing in the narrative can be brushed away by the characters or the audience as “well at least they are at peace in heaven now.” they do this to jimmy novak and ash and pamela and lord knows who else.

season 2 sam and dean don’t have this opt out. every choice they make is so much heavier because they just. don’t. know.

#long post sorry #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #spn season 2 #supernatural season 2 #for the record I LOVE Castiel and the angels add a lot to plot #but undeniably it forever changes the show on a molecular level #sometimes good sometimes bad #but season 2 is one of my all time favorites #so many back to back banger episodes #great dean moments dealing with john dying and sams psychic stuff #GREAT sam moment holy shit an amazing sam season so many gems #also a ton of stupid little dean outfits this season

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diejager · 6 months

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Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people.

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility.

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need.

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers.

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked.

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border.

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch.

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage.

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale.

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use.

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration.

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening.

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects.

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them.

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost.

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children.

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything.

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power.

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful.

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34.

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive.

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful.

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant.

What did Laswell sign them into?

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

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yan-lorkai · 4 months

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Hello, I just found your blog and I saw that you didn't have anything written yet, could you write a Yandere Alucard x reader?, where Alucard knows that his love is not like a normal one, but he still wants to love and care for the reader in his own way? I don't know if you could understand me, English is not my language.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: English isn't my first language either, darling, but don't worry. You're pretty good and I can understand you just fine! Normally when the requester doesn't specify what format they want, I write headcanons. But for this one I went with a drabble, hope you like it! 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: yandere content, non consensual cuddling, implied kidnapping.

Alucard is not one for meaningless sentimentality, if he ever was when he was still human. He doesn't know, can't remember anything before turning into the monster he is today, shrouded by shadows and blood, by vicious bloodlust and thrill of the chase. One thing he remembers though it's love.

Ephemeral, fragile love that humans spend almost all their lives trying to get. Eternal, unconditional love that can swept anyone from their own feet. He's not going to admit it but love was something unknown to him.

Alucard has watched love blossom and change through the ages. Even if he can't remember now, he probably was loved by his parents, his mother probably engulfed him in her arms to protect him from harm, to make him feel safe and loved. Even now he watched and listened and observed love in its pure form, soft and happy, and all around him. He knows enough to know that his love it's tainted and impure just like him. It's all consuming, it's cruel, but he is a cruel monster ready to take and never be satisfied.

He can torn vampires to bits, can disconnect heads from their bodies and bathe in the blood of each of his enemies. Battles against ghouls became orchestrated displays of his commitment, each confrontation a macabre testament of his devotion to you. If only you could see it like this but you were always wary around him, scowling uncomfortably at his bloodied state and dismissing his gifts. Though he suppose eyes and bones don't make good gifts.

His slender fingers continue to tap rhythmically on the arm of the chair. The sound echoing loudly though the palpable silence that plagued your room. You are such a fragile little human, he could crush you so easily beneath his fingers. Could strangle and hear your whimpers and groans, could see the life leave your eyes just like he's seen it in so many other people. But he choose not to.

Instead, he should bring you a heart or a brain. Maybe even the entire corpse. Would that scare you too much though? He doesn't think so.

You're entertaining to watch and you make him feel things he thought he would never feel. For now, he's happy with this, he's happy watching you snuggling against your pillows, wrapped in the soft covers that hid you from the world.

Alucard's red eyes fixed on you with an intensity that could send shivers down your spine if you were awake. His love for you was unlike anything mortal — a dark and possessive force that lingered between obsession and protection. You, a mere human, were unaware of the affection that he had for you. Not for long though.

Deciding not to deny himself any further, Alucard moved. Without making a sound he plopped himself into your bed and pulled you into his arms, where you belong. He doesn't care if you wake up, far from this judging by the sly little smile that grows on his lips. Your head found its place in his chest, your warm breath almost tickling his neck.

He doesn't sleep. He doesn't need it but for a moment he closes his eyes. The blood pulsating on your veins being like a lullaby to him.

He always watched you from the shadows, his crimson gaze a constant companion, but his patience it's at its limit. You either doesn't notice his love for you or you are ignoring it, but he had enough of watching from afar and playing around, he gave you a choice. It was unspoken but you still had a chance for you to come forward and reciprocate his feelings before he take things on his own hands.

His love is not good for you, he know. And he knows he's going to ruin you but he doesn't care. What's matter it's that he has you, like a bunny snared in his trap and soon you be forever bound by his side. Not even his master could help you.

#yandere hellsing ultimate #yandere hellsing #yandere alucard #yandere alucard x reader #alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x reader #hellsing ultimate #hellsing alucard #tw yandere #lorkai drabble

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tarjapearce · 5 months

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Iridiscent (Pt. 4)

Pirate AU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNING: Angst, mentions of violence, graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, political implications, character origins, character backgrounds, introduction of character, Greek mythology mentions.

Summary: The aftermath of a mermaid encounter brings an unexpected ally.

A/N: Pirate Miggy is back ❤️

Mermaids, sea witches, sirens, sea monsters. The latter was the most accurate name for what your mere existence rendered. And now, men eater.

Existing since way before humans understood the concept of civilizations, silent watchers of eons of evolution, yet unfortunate by the simple fact of being.

The permanence of the kin itself was a result of a fateful domino effect the God of the dead had unleashed by being invaded and bewitched by a mortal feeling. Love.

His whim had turned into obsession and this somehow morphed into love. A feeling so strong that made him kidnap the Spring goddess for himself, tired of the miserable companion solitude was in the underworld. And that was the moment everything changed.

The nymphs in charge of their queen's safety were turned into winged beings, as a punishment from none other than Demeter. Her wrath over them, ruthless and merciless as they were forced to look everywhere for their vanishing queen to no avail.

Some of the nymphs had escaped the aftermath to a recluse island, abandoning all purpose of finding Persephone, to follow the whims of their hearts in lieu. Singing and music.

But even so, Demeter's fury had no match, vengeful and blinded by anger she looked for the rebel ones to kill them, but these hid in the sea. Eventually, the feathers hardened, turning into scales. These etched and covered their legs. Securing them in a colorful long tail.

Bird's talons turned into beautiful and deadly hands, that once a prey was caught there was nothing it could do but to accept it's fate. Death.

Damned be Hades and his stupid obsession. Damned be Demeter and her blinding rage, and damned be the men that polluted the earth above with their existing and constant evolving.

Men. The real wretched creatures. The executioners of everything they decided unworthy of living. Stupid beings that played God in a self imposed role in life's hierarchy.

Creatures that had hunted and killed your kin for ages, forcing to separate and face new dangers at every turn in the endless ocean. Humans, a little too praising title considering their acts and actions were everything but, had forced you to hide in the deepest waters and forbidden lands not many were brave enough to venture in.

A couple of centuries were more than enough for you to have a glimpse of their nature. Destructive, dangerous and merciless. They sullied and tarnished everything unfortunate enough to go under their hands.

They killed everything unknown or deemed too frightening for their existence and had no mercy while at it. The bloodier the better. A disgusting yet necessary example of behavior you had to follow in order to survive.

Humans had shaped your temper. Heart rejoicing at every sunken ship the sea swallowed. Even their flesh had lost the sizzle to be enjoyable enough, making your feeding habits more inclined towards other creatures within the sea.

You didn't eat men because you hated them. You ate them because their hatred had poisoned enough the seas, leaving you without resources, pushing you to consume them. And your refusal had made your body weak, it had been years since your body felt properly satisfied.

You collapsed.

How many days had passed, certainly was unknown. Time under the sea was measured by how long it took for a reef to go completely white, how often the ships let their nets in a single spot. Sometimes you remained on land, sea too dangerous to venture alone.

But none of that mattered anymore. Inanition wasn't exclusive of humans, the last thing in your mind was to curse Hades and the men.

But death escaped and picked you and others alike within a net. Pushing some survival instinct back in you as the net wriggled and broke. Injecting the right amount of life to hand you a buffet in a wooden platter. Gathering your bearings after the little commotion in your head, was quickly overlooked when the attention focused on the scene unfolding.

A ship full of men, that stared in wonder and fear. One of them stood out from the rest. It reminded you of Hercules. His physique unique, just as his eyes. A fine specimen and surely a delicious one. Their language was unknown, but it became clear the moment you kissed the fool before your apparent naive form. Absorbing his knowledge and a little more in that simple gesture. Which was little.

But enough to understand what the men said and whispered around you.

Foul and salty smelling, with a faint tinge of wine. He tasted sour and ashy, but edible enough to sate your rampant huger. You wanted to go for the herculean man in shackles, his scent rich in leather, voice like a soft and firm caress in the back of one's head. His cinnamon toned skin made your mouth water.

You were about to move for him, but Elliot, the idiot infront and your hunger kept you in place. You knew your initial prey would fight and would waste the little reserve of strength you had left. He was no fool.

As moronic as the man on your way was, he'd save his purpose. The prey was subdued, flesh and bones devoured; bland and tasteless, but well welcomed within your body. Revitalizing energies and restocking the strength you had been lacking for a time.

Expected as it was, they attacked, all by the command of the shackled man, that had dared to injure you with a bullet. But you were too frenzied and hungry to care. Your meal hung in your maws, as you fought to get it off the ship.

Your Hercules watched in horror from afar, and never in your life had you felt more realized and satisfied to provoke such disturbing reaction in a man.

You could almost taste the fear behind his raged and shaky breathing, his shock in every powerful beat his heart did, the denial in his eyes as they widened the more your teeth sank into the corpse. It fueled you. And also ignited with new strength the already flickering purpose of your existence.

Destroy as many of them as possible.

You went under the ship, away from their archaical defense to eat and consume your food. Humans weren't definitely on the top, for a moment the hunter became the prey and didn't survive to brag about his new kill.

Skin and flesh was torn, consumed with such hunger it had you full and completely sated like never before, within matter of minutes. Elliot Jackdaw no longer existed, but served as a reminder that your kin prevailed and endured.

But also, had unleashed a new domino effect you weren't aware of.

The man in shackles, your forsaken greek god, was thrown at the sea. Your territory. You saw him move, fight against the current; trying to free himself from the heavy cuffs that weighed him down and reach back to the ship. And then nothing.

He became still and it made you frown. Where that bravado had gone? The smirk that was about to emerge in your lips faded as soon as a red cloud oozed and swallowed his head.

His scent was too rich and alluring, stagnant almost. Sickly sweet for your senses and he wasn't moving.

If you recalled, he was called a captain. What was a captain doing out of his ship drowning in the sea? Your lip twitched in scowl.

The lack of loyalty among his kindred was another reason to hate them. He wasn't the first nor the last you had saved in these conditions. Mostly women or little children that were expelled without much reasons other than being a burden.

As much as you cursed your heart for not turning its back to these sort of injustices, and your need to have a tiny taste of him, you hauled him up shore. Light as a feather in water, but heavy as lead on land. The heavy iron around his wrist didn't help, so you destroyed it, inflicting little cuts around his flesh in the process.

Ancient eyes scrutinized his form. Sharp cheekbones that could only match a sword. Strong features that screamed fighter in every direction you looked. A jagged and nasty cut on a side of his head, some strands obscuring his face, you removed them and some bloodied debris from his wound, inspecting it.

Not a too deep cut, the contusion of his head against the moving ship had been rough. A single cut in the upper right cheekbone, clothes clung to him like a second skin. His pockets however were too tempting to be left alone.

Sand and water on them, along a shiny pearl that had you staring and sniffing at the trinket for a close inspection, that didn't pay attention to the locket nesting deeper inside. The pearl was true, so you took it as it quickly etched to your skin, under the ribcage as a decor motif of the raggy top you used to cover your chest.

He'd surely serve as one of Aphrodite's lovers. His forearms laced in tiny and fading scars, that also loitered his solid and somewhat hairy chest. A man through and through. A natural enemy of yours, yet you had saved him.

Probably, he would hunt you too, like the scarce quantity of men you had pulled out of danger. The pearl was a token for saving his life.

You could kill him, filling your tabs with another number, but it wouldn't be honorable. Even if you were a different species, you refused to let some of their habits to rub on you. You opposed greatly to be like them, and so with a look that would suppose to be a final one back at him, you dipped back into the sea.

----

He was on land. Alive, heart beating along every single erratic breath. The sea waves washed over his hips, not cold neither lukewarm. Just the ideal temperature for the humid weather

I'm alive.

His mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. One moment he was in the sea, to then hurl himself back up and puke all the salty water his body had unwillingly ingested.

Miguel was dizzy, but alive. Beaten up, but still breathing. Pissed and ever ready to get his treasure back. But he had to recover some energies first.

Sighing and rising slowly, he turned around to kneel in the moist sand. Tiny grains of it etched to his moist skin, they were rough, altering his sensorial touch for a second. Feet finally got the strength to stand up, careful to not let the nauseas get to his head entirely. Skin burned, but he could bear the discomfort, what Miguel truly needed was a big gulp of water.

He remembered the sun being high on the sky, blazing with all it's glory and witnessing his crew marooning him for good. And now it was night. Somehow thankful that he didn't have to deal with the weather's inclemencies. Step by wobbly step he approached to the thickets and palms rooted in the soil, dressing up modestly the land he walked on.

As another wave of nauseas hit while his head pounded, Miguel stopped to rest in a nearby palm. Calloused hand cupping and covering his mouth to prevent the bile and vomit to spill out once more. Dehydrated as he was, Miguel also understood the dangers of drinking too much salty water.

If dehydration didn't kill him, puking too much without having any other resources on reach would. But none of his survival could be done with the unbridled headache that hammered in his head. A side of it was caked in dry blood, like some strands of his already matted and full of sand hair.

With careful steps he ventured in deeper into the jungle, looking for a spot to spent the night away from land's troubles. The island wasn't familiar for him, he didn't even know if it was big enough to harbor sustainable life, or if ships would pass nearby. With a gasp and a frantic move, he palmed his pockets.

Mierda, no! No

Panic rose upon not feeling the pearl, the sudden motion made his steps stutter as he puked, unable to hold it in anymore. But once he was done and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, he searched into them.

Por favor

The pearl was gone, that was for sure, but relief washed over him upon feeling the fine golden chain of the locket. Hand clasped on it while he brought it to his chest and sighed.

He nearly gave up.

Heart pounding in his ears along his head, and only when he opened the locket, the tears flowed. Calloused fingers full of sandy grains probed the valuable mineral, feeling the dents of the shell shape he knew by heart at this point. Eyes drowning and his voice muffled into a silent and wrathful sob as he inhaled the trinket.

Perdóname, Gabi. (Forgive me)

A faint tickle of fresh home bread, coconut oil that he used to fry the fish, and the eucalyptus ointment that was always next to him brought back the bittersweet memories that flooded his mind about the last years he had with Gabriella. She adored when he cooked, and always smelled his fingers after using the oil.

It reminds me of you, Papa.

She loved freshly baked bread. But hated the smell of the eucalyptus ointment the doctor left her.

The only memento he now had of his beloved and long gone daughter. The only thing that mattered the most for him.

How dared them betraying him when he had been everything but fair and good?

How dared them into taking his ship and some important things he had hid inside? But most importantly, how dared life to show him that mermaids were real when the reason he believed in them in the first place was no longer with him?

Who was he supposed to tell that he saw a mermaid?

A karma for turning into a pirate, maybe. All his mind was able to remember was the way the creature looked at him, a clear assessment of her power. Fear invaded every fiber of his being, making him too stunned to actually think or act until he saw the creature devouring Elliot.

Another reason for him to respect the sea. Now that he had a glimpse of what laid underneath, Miguel wondered what other things crawled in it's depths. But he would think about it all tomorrow.

His eyes drooped in exhaustion. Thinking consumed the last bit of his energy reserves. Despite the thirst clawing at his throat with a vice grip, the headache and weariness were greater. Even though a thicket wasn't the right choice to spend the night, he hadn't the time nor the energies to be picky. He just collapsed once more and hoped whoever above to live another day.

----

The sunlight was slippery enough to leak through the dense foliage and reach patches of the humid and moss textured land, as well parts of his weathered face. With a wince he rolled to his side, avoiding the aurifeous and warm touch from the ever blazing sun. Head clear from it's pain, and thoughts in order, like it should be.

With a sigh he rose and stretched, popping joints back in their place. Discomfort remaining in his head and wrists, that upon further examination he deducted the cuts in them were fresh, and undoubtedly someone had saved him from a certain death. Who, he didn't know but was grateful for the mysterious savior to let his revenge start.

With a rested yet hungry body, and a fresh head to think, he rolled his shoulders back and took a look around. Surveying his environment to decide which way to go. No weapons, no resources but packed with skills that were honed precisely for these sort of situations.

He still remembered the first time Mundaca had left him in an island with a single knife to fend for himself, since Miguel refused to accompany him in a slave hunting trip. At first he thought that Mundaca had left him for good or out of spite, but Fermín had only taught him a valuable surviving lesson. This time however, he didn't have that knife and would rely only on his hands, brain and brawns.

Naturally, Miguel headed for the north, palm trees left behind, instead acai palms, rubber trees and soursops begun gathering in the place. The scent of wet soil and rotting wood was pungent in the air, oddly, he liked it. Macaws and other birds cackled and cawed as he pushed deeper along some distant rustling.

The overgrown roots twisted and tangled here and there, weaving a walkable path free of them to his right, His eyes darted to the tail of a cobra slithering away from him, minding it's business.

The copious squaking of the birds was a good white noise along the crunching of his wet boots. His throat was beyond arid, that even spit couldn't form in it if he wished; stomach rumbled violently, begging him for some food. Breathings paused but deep.

Hours stretched for what seemed forever, he didn't know if he was walking in circles, the island was definitely not small. He had found some fruit trees along the way, but the things were so our of reach, that attempting to climb for them was a risk. He'd knew the wait would worth it.

Ears however perked at the gunshot given in the distance. Eyes widened, both in surprise and excitement at the thought that civilization was within. Cause that meant, food and water. And also weapons. And what a better way to confirm it than a booming gunshot that spooked away the nearby fawn.

With careful steps, he followed the echo, making the least of noise possible. As much as it thrilled to have a bite, he also understood the implications of such things. Armored men, guarded bodegas, overpowered foremen and probably slaves.

Time flew by, but his spirits lifted upon spotting the first red uniforms in a distance. Two of them. He approached closer to take a better look.

The soldiers had a rifle each, a belt full of ammo and firing at what were now dead slaves as shooting dummies. To his right, Miguel saw a few tents and supplies. Food and water tossed in a nearby bench, a fire was alight, serving as a cooking source for the pot placed above. His eyes however fell upon a machete. Probably belonging to one of the dead men tied up in the wooden posts.

After all, working tools had to be in perfect conditions, leaving no room for slacking off.

Miguel forayed slowly, moving within the foliage until he reached for the machete, with paced breathings he awaited for another shot to rumble to pull the weapon within his reach. The metallic drag was drowned. He couldn't eat until the men were disposed off.

Now that he was armored, a distraction was needed. The branches used for the iron's pot makeshift support were weak, the stew inside boiled. Miguel pushed the tip of the machete on the pot's edge, a little clink connected as the pot was pushed forward, but it barely tumbled it. He awaited for another gunshot to echo to push the pot entirely on the ground.

The lard immediately sent sparks on the floor as smoke surrounded the area. The noisy thud of the pot alarmed one of the guards that didn't waste time into blaming his companion for the shitty structure and how they'd have to go fishing again to get food done.

A little too late the guard noticed the fiery red eyes that glowered at him. Before he could even say something the sharp blade of the machete sliced through this throat in a firm thrust, all the guard could do was a gurgle, perturbed, before plummeting on the floor, staining the blade with a warm crimson as Miguel pulled it out of the body. Flesh sizzling at the contact of the hot coals and wood.

He took a rock that filled in his palm and aimed it for the head of the remaining guard, the other soldier yelped as he fell on the ground, the rock hitting his head with a lurid crack. Miguel lurched for him to end his misery by impaling the weapon in his back. Right in the middle. It was quick, deathly and effective.

Miguel panted but waited in case another guard was around, but none approached, just the wing flapping of a macaw somewhere. With the machete in hand he approached to the tent and wasted no time in gobbling down the water in a container, quenching his thirst, not really caring for the droplets that rolled down his neck.

His hands then wiped his face as he scrubbed the caked blood and sand away, then scarfed down the leftovers left in a plate and devoured anything within reach that was cooked or preserved, Adia probably would scold him for eating like an animal, despite being starving.

Once he was satisfied and his strength back, he looked for other weapons he could use. As much as the machete proved a worthy aid, it was long and it made noise. The opposite of what he needed.

The Red Eyed Demon searched into the soldier's pockets, a couple of coins, bullets and gold teeth that seemed freshly pulled out of the bodies in the back. He took the bullets and left the rest, he also found a short ranged pistol, a combat knife and a rope.

Also, to his luck, some fresh clothes. As much as he was set into his vengeance he wouldn't waste the chance into being comfortable while at it. His boots were soiled full of sand and saline water, he changed them, like his pants. The shirt was the only thing he kept since none of the men actually wore his size.

Ridiculous as it was, one of the soldiers had abnormally larger feet. But were perfect for him. Pants still a bit too short but he'd had them any other day instead of walking around feeling uncomfortable and itchy by the salt etched to his skin and clothes.

He ventured deeper only to find a familiar scene before him. A state. Hacienda Valverde read in the overly embellished metal structure that held the sign.

----

So far, Miguel had done a good job in keeping himself hid, the least of attention he attracted, the more successful his escape plan would be. So far he had counted around fifteen soldiers in the property. Five of them scattered through the plantations, making sure the workforce didn't dally in their duties.

He ventured over the trees, avoiding unnecessary trouble, to then land nearly quietly in a mountain of hay. His breathings stopped at every time an unsuspected guard passed by him. Heart pounded in his ears when his steps brought him closer and closer to danger

The rest of the guards were scattered through the property, watching over the stables, the main storage room, inside the hacienda and of course, watching over the supply.

He had snuck in the warehouse, to his surprise the cells were empty, he went through each of them to see if anything worthy had been left behind, but the sound of the lock being picked made him hide behind a couple of haystacks.

"Stop, Stop!" A groan came from a wriggling man, "I told you the truth! Let me go!"

Miguel couldn't see who was the prisoner, peeking out would be too risky, but the lack of accent, gave him a hint. An American.

The man grunted as he kicked, managed to land a punch or two to the guards that only twisted his shackled hands backwards. This made the man whine and curse, blind hot pain shot in his ribcage as another soldier hit him with the base of his rifle.

"Shut your fucking gob!" With a rough shove, the fighting man was thrown into the cell, the enclosure's door stilled with a loud creak as the main door was slammed shut.

The only noises the pirate could hear was the pained grunts that only increased when the prisoner tried to pick himself up from the floor, and the shaky huffing that turned into whiny whimpers when he managed to recover some air.

The day was set to surprise him, cause in his life he had seen a white man being thrown in a slave cell. Until now.

The man was tall, lean muscle in his body, a five o'clock stubble in his narrow cheeks and blue eyes. Hair hapzardly peeking ontop of his head.

"Fuck..." He groaned but recoiled in his cell even further upon seeing the shade of red glinting at him behind the haystacks. Pain screamed in every breathing he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to get himself free.

"H-Hey"

The man's eyes widened as soon as Miguel came into full view. He had to crane his head upwards to meet his eyes and gulped as soon as he realized the color in the behemoth of a man. Breaths shallow but less erratic than before now that he knew he had company.

"Please. Help me out of here, pal"

He was definitely American.

"And why would I do that?"

Miguel’s bushy brow quirked while taking another look through the warehouse, searching for alternative escape routes.

"Cause my wife just gave birth and I wanna meet my little girl."

A red stare seized the blue one. His unwavering, but the man's rivalled against it. Miguel broke contact as his hands fisted briefly. The prisoner's chest heaved whole he rubbed the area he was hit on.

Lucky bastard

"I was supposed to arrive last week but I was taken from the ship."

"Why?"

Miguel looked through the haystacks and other corners he didn't have the chance to search thoroughly.

"That's what I'd like to know!" The man sat against the lateral bars and winced defeated, watching at the moving man.

"I was a merchant, on a trip to improve a little familiar business I have, but Nueva York isn't precisely friendly with the working class." He paused to take some air the hit had taken away, "So I came back. And that's where the english trapped me." His forehead rested ontop of his scrapped and bloodied knuckles. The spark that gave him a beating and his imprisonment.

"The English are press ganging civilians at sea."

Miguel's lip twitched in a scowl upon hearing the news. Of course they would, Americans and English were too deep in political wars that could barely stand eachother. But in the sea, the English were the masters and none was there to stop them. More like he wasn't there to sink as many of them as possible.

Yet.

"How old is your daughter?"

The pirate asked above his shoulder and this made the gaoler to look up.

"Three weeks old. According to my wife's last letter."

Miguel's shoulder slumped, and he turned to look at the man. A little hesitation passed over his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he saw an old acquaintance of him. Hope. Red eyes rolled annoyed, as if regretting the sudden decision he was about to make.

"Do you know how to use a weapon?"

The question surely threw the man off, but still managed to reply

"Y-Yeah. Not fond of them, but yeah."

"Fight?"

"Not a complete useless if that's what you're hinting at."

Miguel chuckled and approached closer to the cell, examining the lock while the detainee put on his pair of boots.

"Gimme a wire and I'll get myself out of here."

Miguel instead took a nearby shovel to destroy the lock in a couple of hits. The metal piece clanking on the floor as it fell.

"O-Or you could do that. Yeah."

The man stood on his feet and stretched before offering his hand to him, Miguel just stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in a firm shake. Peter hid a wince at the sheer display of strength and that he had grabbed his injured hand.

"Peter B. Parker. Merchant and lock master."

"Miguel O'Hara. Pirate."

Peter could only blink stupidly at him.

"Let's go."

But followed him without much thought.

-----

Taglist:

@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @lishdfish @not-ur-average-fangirl @freehentai @darksidecorner @winteringfalls @ellasarich @eustashh @nyxismoon @murnsondock @pluviophilis @oooof-ifellforyou @plusultrayokai @teacoffeeflavored @ctizu1 @dickfartcheesy @s0lm1n @vonev @iwumrndbm @azuredragonstrike @Iyykeyyy @arrozyfrijoles23 @frompeach @ghostlyworld @liamdasimp @straw-berry-ghoul

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #astv miguel #gabi o'hara #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #x reader #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara fanfiction #pirate au #mermaid au

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bulliestrolls · 5 months

Text

A Streams Psyche [FLEEK AU]

Introduction to the Fleek AU and what's to come (this was so fun to write hiii)

Honestly, Creek’s never been a huge fan of Branch.

At first, it wasn’t personal at all, or at least he didn’t mean for it to be, he just didn’t like how Branch treated his friends. He was always such a grouch and he was such a downer at every given moment, and it was such a drag to listen to over and over again. If anything, Creek was grateful that Branch typically barricaded himself from everyone else, I mean, if he wasn’t going to be positive, then what was the point of having him around? And yet that never seemed to stop Poppy, her being the future Queen of pop and also his best companion.

Poppy always seemed adamant on having Branch join their crew and changing his ways. While he never really understood why she wanted to so badly, he couldn’t help but admire her attitude. Something about the peppiness always brought a smile to his face, and he always supported her decisions as a best friend should. Usually though, it never seemed to work in her favor. Branch always blew her off and gave a stink eye to her and everyone else, and quite frankly it got on Creek’s nerves.

He always did his best to cheer up Poppy whenever it happened, finding it strange how upset she gets over it. Why should she even care if he doesn’t? What was the need to show emotion over someone that didn’t even matter in the long run? Regardless of his thoughts, he succeeded often in bringing back her spirits, the gang usually partying together the remainder of the night as a result. Creek always greatly enjoyed their company, and loved to share his exercises with everyone, his life seemed perfect.

That was until the bergens attack on Pop village.

Even now, he remembered that day so vividly. Poppy had planned a gigantic celebration for the village to party over them being free from the monsters for so many years. Everyone was so excited to join in on the festivities, everyone except the one who he can’t even think about anymore without clenching his jaw.

Branch.

As usual, that damned troll was set on ruining the rest of their fun, claiming how they’re being far too loud and the bergens would get them. Same shit as usual, it was incredible how Creek didn’t gain a headache from the repetitiveness of it. He’s tried before to talk some sense into the troll, but Branch always shoved him away, seemingly as if he were more irate with him than anyone else, which was pretty confusing to Creek.

Branch, of course, had ended up retreating back to his lonesome bunker, and the rest of the group set up in preparation for the lovely party. And what a party it was, it would’ve been one for the books if the attack hadn’t happened right after. Before much notice, he saw the yellow beady eyes looking down at everyone, and all he can recall is the screams of his friends and the pleas for help which were left unanswered.

Next thing he had known, he and his buddies were stuffed into a back, shaking with fear and breathing hard, their fate unknown. He remembers not reacting as strongly as his friends had back then. Really, he remembered only thinking of how to relax everyone and for them to have an open and clear mind. How come he hadn’t really processed how awful the situation had been?

Whatever hope he had given his companions started to dwindle the more time went on, especially when everyone had been thrown into a cage, a bergen staring down at them. Even in that situation, Creek had been adamant on everyone remaining calm, and that help would be there soon. He didn’t know if he was even being honest with himself at that moment, he already knew how hopeless the situation had been. And the problem only cemented itself when he was grabbed to be eaten by the Bergens king.

The moment was instant, he remembered his friends shouting and crying out his name and it all became muffled as the world around him darkened. Originally he had thought he had shut his eyes only to realize he was inside the king's mouth. He was terrified, for the first time in his life, and he could do nothing but accept his fate. Only.. the king’s mouth didn’t do anything. He hadn’t chewed, or swallowed, and it left Creek puzzled.

He still had time! He let out a deep inhale before using all of his core strength to push against the walls of the mouth, letting out a guttural scream until he found himself falling out of it, being met with the two bergens, and the fear kicking back into gear. What was the plan at that point? They were skyscrapers compared to him, running was out of the question. All he could do in that moment was beg for his life, pleading mercy and willing to do anything to be granted such.

It seemed to have been a running thing through his life, the will to do anything he could in order to get what he wanted. In this case, that was making out of this alive.

And so, he had made a deal to spare pop village and everyone in exchange to live. He truly wished it didn’t have to be that way, not when he has achieved such a strong bond with the others, but he didn’t have any other choice in the matter, so he reluctantly agreed. The next time he had seen everyone, they were all ecstatic to see that he was still alive, and he couldn’t help but smile despite the circumstances. It was short-lived however, when his eyes traveled to Branch, who seemed shocked and… annoyed that Creek was there.

Really? Even after everything he was still acting like that? Before he had known it, Branch was exclaiming Creeks’ betrayal, his hair wrapping around Creeks neck harshly, cutting off his circulation to breathe. Relief overflooded him when Poppy had pushed Branch back and tried to talk reason into him. When everyone turned over to him however, he wasn’t quite sure of what to say.

He… didn’t want to lie so he told them the truth of his betrayal, but it was for good reason. He hadn’t been able to get another word in before Poppy was doing the exact same assault Branch was previously. That was expected from Branch, but from HER? His heart was shattering, wondering where his Poppy had gone. She would never have acted like this towards him before, this must’ve been all his doing. He must’ve been changing her.

Why?

Why was she acting like that towards him? Surely she would’ve understood he didn’t have a choice in the matter, he would die otherwise! He insisted that the other trolls would’ve done what he had to if they were placed in his situation. When Branch had resisted her, Creek’s head felt like it was going to blow when he saw him holding onto Poppy like that. What the hell gives, exactly? It wasn’t like this until only now, and it confused the hell out of him.

If anything, HE should’ve been the one to be angry in this situation. None of them had done anything to save him from his supposed doom, they all thought he was dead, after all. And, while he may not have enjoyed having to betray pop village, he felt a bit of sadistic glee when it involved Branch being part of the equation, especially now. After all, he made all of his friends hate him, telling them things behind his back. Things that showed Creek was the villain in the scenario, which he couldn’t help feel were ridiculous. SURELY they all would’ve done the same in this scenario, right? Right? Branch would’ve, definitely! He didn’t like ANY of them until only recently, apparently.

The thought of it all made his head spin, he hated it. He hated him. None of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for that fucker. Creek could’ve calmed his friends down about the betrayal if not for HIS outburst. He wouldn’t have already been rooted against if not for Branch, his friends would’ve believed him, surely. Maybe… maybe this all was for the best! Yeah, yeah that’s it! At least in this way, Creek could properly punish Branch for all he believed was his fault, and maybe, just maybe, he could change Branch to their side once and for all, a feat Poppy wasn’t able to achieve so he would do it for her instead. Then… everything would return to normal.

He had hoped at least that everything would return to normal.

Creek ended up returning to Pop village and doing what had to be done, which he felt sorrow for, at least that’s what he showed. It wasn’t really known how he was feeling about it all, but he did pity them all for being so weak and powerless in the situation.

Some time later he finds that plans went south, and he was rolling out of the bergens kingdom with their chef, who was on fire. It was yet another moment of blink fast and you’d miss it. That was also the moment he realized that he didn’t need to betray them at all and everyone was still alive, which gave him momentary happiness, only for it to dwindle at the fact that everyone was leaving him to die. All he could do at that point was to scream along with the other bergen until the fire was put out and she was dead. Except that’s not exactly what happened. For some reason, the fire hadn’t killed her, which was a bit of a shock to him. It might’ve been due to the rough and thick skin of the bergens, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Regardless, since she was out of it from the pain, he thought he could maybe make an escape.

That was until he felt her cold and bony hand grab him, preparing to finish the job and eat him herself. God, he was just going to die no matter what he did, huh? How was any of it fair at all?

The moment was thankfully short-lived, or at least so he thought, as he felt both of them falling down into a pit. The bergen had died almost instantaneously, sinking down into the stomach acid of the creature that had swallowed them both. He had more time to react than her about it, his small stature having him fall down at a slower pace. With quick thinking he gathered his hair strength to break out, but he still gained acid burns from being in there already. He screamt from the pain but was desperate to get out, to live.

He eventually had made it out of the monster's pit, gasping heavily as he had access to basic air once more, thanking whatever entity above him that was giving him a second chance at life. The troll had focused on tending to his wounds, letting out a hiss of agony at every touch, but it needed to be done. Once he had finally had a chance to think properly once more after his second near-death experience, it washed down on him like a dam.

None of them cared if he died, hell, it seemed as if nobody even realized he was gone. What could he do from here? He certainly couldn’t have returned to pop village, at least not right now. If they were willing to give him up to a bergen, then they’d likely execute him on the spot for his ‘crimes’. All he could do right now was prepare for his eventual return, knowing that whenever that may have been, there was no going back to the way things used to be. His relationship with them all had been completely severed, and the way he could feel about things felt more warped than ever.

In the months and the year it took until he returned, he practiced learning basic expressions, reacting to things suddenly and unreasonably to see their effect on others. How to truly react to things became null to him ever since that day, and it was a struggle to come across as normal afterwards. Nevertheless, he persisted, adamant on changing people's minds on him, and getting them to love him once more.

As expected, his return was at first unwelcomed, him being met with Branch yet again, who was right at Poppy’s side. He couldn’t help but scoff mentally at the fact he was replaced with THIS troll of all things, but he kept his calm and cool stature, claiming guilt and being apologetic to everyone, even though he still didn’t really believe he did anything wrong. It was a stressful situation after all, still, he let them know he was willing to repent for everything and do whatever it takes to gain back everyone’s trust once more. Branch’s face during that moment couldn’t help but creep into Creek’s mind, remembering its vile expression clearly.

For the most part, everything had been calm. He worked hard and dutifully, really gaining back his place back into the village. It was going according to his plan beside the.. Setbacks. For some reason, anytime he saw Branch, there was the unbridled and raw rage that built inside of him. Sure, he could just stay away from where Branch is, but it’s not that easy unfortunately. Not when he’s constantly walking behind Poppy like a mutt. That is also not to mention Branch had recently reunited with his family members, his brothers.

Oh great, there’s more of them multiplying. They’re like amoeba. Disgusting, filthy amoeba.

It seemed that no matter what Creek did, he was always met with Branch’s face in one way or another. Sometimes it got so bad that he lost sleep due to it. He’s also had violent spells on his lonesome just thinking about it all, punching at walls and ripping out his hair just to do something about the thing he had no control of. That was getting pretty old though, and he decided if he couldn’t get away from Branch, he should work on ways of getting rid of him.

There was one brother that Creek didn’t seem to mind, whose name was Floyd. Floyd was the second youngest brother, according to Branch, and was also quite the apathetic being. Creek never intended getting close or even talking to him, but one thing led to another and it turned out that they could connect pretty well. Floyd would always check up on him, and even started doing yoga, which made Creek overjoyed. Nothing else was expected of their partnership, that is until he had noticed how uncomfortable it had made Branch. Not only that, but Poppy even talked to Branch about how nothing could be done because Creek wasn’t hurting anyone. The comment of her not liking him either stung, but was quickly wiped once he realized what this could mean for him.

This was it. THIS was how he could fix his issue with Branch, it all made sense! Creek hated seeing Branch happy, and that must be where all of the rage came from! If Branch were in ruins however, then Creek could return back to normal, even feeling a bit of joy from it. His friendship with Floyd was enough to unsettle Branch, so why not take it a step further? He could start flirting with him, taking him out on dates, hell, maybe one day he could even ask for his hand in marriage. Oh, Creek bet that would kill Branch. The thoughts in his head raced with ideas for what he could plan with Floyd, and it made him positively giddy.

If only he had known what this all would’ve done to him, then maybe he would’ve rethought everything.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls fanfic #trolls au #trolls angst #trolls fleek #fleek #trolls creek #trolls floyd #fleekedup #fleekedup fr #fleeked up

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