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marvelmymarvel · 1 year

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Not Special

Kakashi Hatake x NarutoMotherFigure!Reader

Synopsis: Before Naruto, you were a feared kunoichi who killed thousands before the age of 14. Naruto didn't know any of this, which is why you weren't anything special to him. But that all changes after the Hokage asks you to pick the sword up again to protect the village against an impending threat.

Naruto Masterlist: Here

“My mom isn't anyone special. She's just normal!”

Kakashi’s eyebrow shot up at that, eyes landing on the blonde as he talked adamantly to Sakura about how cool the other kid's parents were - and how uncool you were. He pursed his lips, fighting back the urge to spill the truth about you and your past, but he knew you wanted to keep it a secret. You weren't proud of it; it was much bloodier than his was. You gave it up for Naruto when he came along. Your time in the ninja world was short, yet many feared you.

All things Naruto didn't know.

But Kakashi couldn't stop his questions from coming out, wondering why Naruto saw you as a ‘weakling’ in the first place. “You say Y/n isn't special? How come?” Naruto stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing at Kakashi. “Well, she’s not a shinobi, first off. Secondly, all she does nowadays is help out at the daycare-”

“So that makes her not special?”

“Come on Kakashi-Sensei. You know what I mean! She's just not as strong as we are… Ya know?”

The silence that hung in the air made Naruto shift on his feet, unnerved by his Sensei's sudden change in attitude. It was almost like he was challenging him to say another word. But Naruto knew better. “You don't know anything about who she was before you came along, Naruto….”

“Wasn’t she 14? Kakashi-Sensei, I’m not sure she could have done much damage by the time she had turned 14-”

“That's enough” Kakashi’s sharp tone had Naruto shutting his mouth from fear; he didn't know how or why, but his statement cut deep. Kakashi wished you would have told Naruto about your past, why you stopped fighting, and why you kept it hidden. He wouldn't have to continuously hear about how ‘weak’ you were if you had just told Naruto everything.

“Now, let's begin our mission, shall we?”

Days had passed since Naruto left for his mission with the rest of team 7. You made Kakashi promise to keep him safe, which allowed you to focus on other ways to help the community. You had just handed off the last toddler to their parent and headed into the daycare to clean up your room. A figure in the middle of the mess caused you to jump in your spot - “Lord third! You scared me.”

He hummed at that before leaning against a bookshelf, pipe in between his teeth as he took in the chaotic room. The Third Hokage was against the path you chose; he’d have you as his personal guard if it were his way. He respected your wishes and respected them for 12 years, but now, as the threat of an enemy loomed over the village, he was coming back to you with a new offer.

One you simply cannot refuse.

“It is quite a shame that you gave up the Jonnin life at 14. You were a fine student, almost, if not better than Kakashi was,” He started as he moved through the room, his old eyes scanning over the arts and crafts drying on the tables.

Your lips pursed at the sound of the Third Hokage’s words. You’ve heard this rant before; it was his specialty. He’d build you up with praise and acknowledgment, making you feel like you were the only person who could save the village before throwing an offer for you to return to the ninja life. You couldn't deny you missed it but didn't miss the blood. Didn't miss the death. Raising Naruto was more rewarding than killing hundreds of people for the village's sake.

Yet, you listened. Soaking up every word he told you as if you needed to hear them. He continued, recounting all of your successes before stopping to look at a particular picture on the wall. It was of you and your classroom, all in the picture, smiling. Did he want to do this? You sighed before bending down to pick up the toys on the floor.

“You don't just give praise without a request. Get on with it, Lord Third. I have a classroom to clean up.”

His eyes flicked to your figure. Your tone alone told him that your walls were up, and you wouldn't let him easily throw his suggestion over them. You would put up a fight, but maybe if he added Naruto into the mix, then you’d listen.

“You care about Naruto’s well-being, yes?”

Your body froze as your fingers hovered over a toy, your heart lurching in your throat as you braced yourself for this new approach. This was a sick, twisted way of getting what he wanted. He’s done this to you many times before, and while you know it's a trap, you always walk into it. You don't answer him, but your silence does.

“There's a threat looming over the village… I’ve gathered my best men, but I’m still missing the greatest one of all….” You sighed at that, eyebrows crinkling in pain as you felt the guilt creeping up your neck, practically strangling you with its cold bony fingers. “Naruto won't be safe if you can't help protect the village.”

There it was.

Your e/c eyes flicked to his as you stood up straight. He was right in a sick, twisted kind of way. If you were involved, the threat would be easily avoidable. But how would you tell Naruto? You never once told him how many you’ve saved and never how many you’ve butchered in the name of the leaf village. He didn't know of the nightmares you shared with Kakashi or the vomiting due to the stress your young body was under.

He didn't know any of it.

To him, you were just a daycare teacher. But to the village, to your Hokage, you were more.

“I would like you to join the ANBU. When the threat passes, I will let you decide if you want to stay in the ANBU or return to this lifestyle.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, and you fought the panic in your chest. You’ve been on a couple of missions with the ANBU; they were more ruthless than you were. Your teary eyes drifted to the picture beside the Hokage, lip pursing as you took in the smiling faces of the children you cared for daily. It wasn't just about you or Naruto; it never was.

“What do you say?”

You looked back at him before nodding slowly, “I will join the ANBU, but once this is over. I will never be picking up a Kunai again.”

Naruto bounded back into the village as their mission got cut short. The news spread like wildfire that a threat was coming down on the village, and all ninjas had been requested to return for backup. He raced to the daycare despite Kakashi’s yells. He had to get you to safety. You were the only person he cared for the most in this entire world. If anything happened to you, he would lose himself.

Naruto screamed your name as he ran up to the daycare, flinging open the doors as he flew down the hall. The lights were off, and a cold breeze flew past him as his eyes landed on the sight of your daycare room. Bodies lay everywhere, causing his eyes to widen at the sight of the enemy ninja strewn along the floor with jagged stabs in their chests. He backed out of the room; breath growing labored as he thought through where you may be. Naruto wasn't thinking clearly as he flew out of the daycare building. He would have known that the trap was set just for him if he were thinking clearly.

And he walked right into it.

A bag was shoved over his face as he was tackled. He called out for help, kicking and screaming for the men to get off him. The sound of slicing filled the air, and warm liquid splattered all over him; bodies were shoved off him one by one. Before long, he had freed himself from the group and ripped off the face covering. The sight before him made him stare in awe - A female ANBU officer was slaughtering the ninja one by one without breaking a sweat. It was as if they were nothing to her, almost as if she could take a hundred of them all at once and never falter in her movements. Finally, her sword drove through the chest of the last remaining ninja.

Naruto’s mouth hung open as she ripped the sword from the man's chest, sighing as she looked down at herself. She was drenched with blood. It was on her uniform, on her mask, in her hair, on her hands. The only thing she could wipe off was her sword.

“Wow! That was, uh… Thank you”

Her head snapped to the side to look at him before she once more let out a sigh. She slid the blade against her pant leg, trying to wipe off the blood she had accumulated in the past couple of hours. She put the sword back in the sheath on her back before storming towards him; reaching down, she hauled him back onto his feet.

“Why are you here?! Where is Kakashi?!”

Naruto’s eyebrows furrowed at her words, the voice sounded familiar, but his brain refused to connect the dots. “You know Kakashi-Sensei? You’re starting to freak me out, lady.” The woman froze before him, realizing she had made a deadly error and there was no going back. She sighed before lifting her hand to her mask, “You can't tell anyone, Naruto.”

Naruto’s jaw dropped at the sight before him, “Hey… What the hell?!”

You shot a warning glare, silently scolding him for his language, but he didn't care. You were the ANBU lady??? The one he just saw brutally murder the 20 men lying around you. His eyes wandered around your face, brows crinkling in confusion as his brain caught up to the fact that you were in front of him, wearing an ANBU uniform and covered in blood. Lots and lots of blood.

“But, you’re not a shino-”

You sighed at his statement before he even finished, “A shinobi, yes I haven't been one for years” Naruto grew more confused at your confession. “For years? You were a shinobi before?” A small laugh flew from your lips as you face-palmed yourself. The blood on your hand smeared onto your face, making you cringe at the feeling and smell. Your heart started to race as you brought your hand from your face, eyes wide as you took in the crimson staining your skin. It made you feel sick; you didn't miss this at all.

“Didn't I tell you to stay by my side Naruto?” Naruto jumped at Kakashi’s words as he landed beside you, slowly approaching you as if not wanting to spook you. “God, I hate this, Kakashi,” you whined out as you tried to look away from the blood on your hands. Kakashi quickly wiped it away with a small rag, reassuring you that you were doing something good, even if it meant killing people. There had been many nights where he’d have to reassure you in such a manner. The guilt you felt drove you mad; in a way, you were thankful for Naruto, who gave you a way out.

“How many did you kill, Y/n?” Kakashi whispered as he looked around the daycare. He was trying to gauge how many angry men would come after you. “About 70”

Naruto gasped at the number, eyes widening as you turned into Kakashi. “So we should prepare for 100 more coming your way?”

You nodded as your lip quivered - “I don't want to kill them. I can't do it anymore. I’m so tired.”

Kakashi nodded before starting to take off your vest. If he could get you out of the recognizable outfit and away from the fighting, he could quickly finish off the 100 angry men for you. “I can handle them; it's fine-”

“70?!”

Your eyes shot to Naruto’s, and you froze at his awe-struck face. You didn't know if he was amazed or disgusted, but both reactions would have made your stomach churn all the same. Kakashi felt your sickness by the way you swayed in his arms, “Naruto, now is not the time-”

“I mean, how badass are you!? And you didn't even tell me?!?!”

Your eyes grew wide as you scanned the tree line for incoming intruders; suddenly, your fear-stricken face turned hard. Snatching up the mask from the ground, you shoved it on before drawing your sword. Kakashi held his breath. Your hearing was much sharper than his ever was. Before you knew it, 100 ninjas surrounded you three. You’ve fought more in one go; it was a simple task compared to other things you’ve had to do.

But doing it in front of Naruto made you falter.

Did you want him to see the beast inside of you? The beast you hid from him as best you could. You let him believe you were boring to conceal that you were a kunoichi feared by many nations. You killed many men without mercy because you were instructed to, just as a good soldier does.

One of the ninjas looked toward Naruto, causing you to jump into action. You screamed for Naruto to run before slicing your sword to kill them quickly before they could get their hands on him. Naruto, for once, listened and ran to hide behind the building wall, far enough from the fighting to stay safe but close enough to watch you fight through the group. Kakashi did help a little, but you did most of the work. He was amazed and felt slightly guilty at his previous assumptions about you being weak. The display before him was anything but weak.

Within minutes, you had thinned down the group until the last one remained. Naruto expected you to kill him, but you did something else entirely. Your fingers gripped the bleeding man's collar, ripping him up so he was face-to-face with your ANBU mask. “Who do you take directions from? Who was the leader of this attack??” Your words were icy and full of hatred, not full of the warmth and love Naruto was used to. A shiver ripped down his spine as he watched you cock your head at the spluttering man. “Who. Is. In. Charge.” your snarl made the man break as he screamed out the name of the person in charge of the entire thing. You scoffed at him before driving your sword slowly into his chest. It was deliberately pushed in at a location that would ensure a slow and painful death. It was then that Naruto realized this was the same ninja that looked his way at the beginning of the fight.

You ripped out your sword, letting the man fall to the ground as you watched him gasp for breath. Blood bubbled up from his throat before spewing from his mouth, he wouldn't die from internal bleeding, but he would die from drowning in the blood pooling in his lungs. Your head turned to the side, and while Naruto couldn't see your eyes, he knew your gaze was locked on him. You scared him and amazed him at the same time. He was amazed that you had taken down so many men without a worry in the world, but he was also scared at how fast you turned off your emotions when you went into killing mode.

You weren't the same. He didn't like this side of you.

A sigh flew from your lips as you read him like an open book. He was always so easy to see right through. You saw the fear radiating off him, causing you to drop your sword and rip off your mask as if trying to show him it was still you. That you were still the mom he loved so much.

That you were nothing special.

But that wasn't true anymore; at least the last part wasn't.

You stepped towards him, head cocking as he cowered behind the wall. “Naruto, honey, I won't hurt you.” He didn't budge, didn't dare to, as you walked closer to him. “You aren’t my mom. I don't know who you are, but-”

“You’re right. I’m not your mom,” you stated firmly as you dropped into a crouch feet away from him. He jumped in his spot, flying back as you startled him. You smiled at his jumpiness but knew that this reaction was warranted. His lips trembled at your statement, and you realized your mistake. “No, no, that's not what I meant. The mom you know is not the mom in front of you. The person standing in front of you is someone that hasn't existed for 12 years. Naruto, I hate this person more than you would ever know. I let this person go so I could raise you, and after tonight, she will never come back.” You moved to sit cross-legged before him, hoping the childlike position would reassure him that the one he was talking to was his mom.

The old you was far gone.

Naruto’s blue eyes flicked from you to Kakashi, who stood quietly behind you, hands in his pockets as if all this was old news. Because it was. Kakashi was the one that got you out of this mindset, and it silently terrified him just how easy it was for you to slip back into it. He knew he needed to bring it up later but now was not the time.

Seeing that his Sensei was calm and collected, Naruto nodded at your words before crawling towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed as he approached you, but they soon relaxed once you realized what he was doing. Naruto climbed into your lap, forcing your arms to wrap around him and cradle him in your embrace. You bit back a chuckle and pulled him in more, the blood smeared all over his clothes, but he didn't mind. He just needed to be reminded that you were his loving, carefree, warm-hearted mom. He didn't want a mom that was special. He didn't want a mom that was a renowned shinobi. He just wanted you. As you held him close, you decided then and there that you would never pick up a sword again, because caring for Naruto was more rewarding than wearing a mask and protecting the village.

And nothing would change that.

#Kakashi imagine #kakashi imagines #kakashi hatake imagine #kakashi hatake imagines #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader

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lenislenii · 1 month

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𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞

Synopsis: He teaches you how to ride a horse! Warning: nothingg! Author's Note: Boothill is so fun to write AAAAA i love him so much, boothill wanters shall be boothill havers!! by the way this was written by an equestrian so i like got a bit of inspiration on my life style LMAO

Boothill x gn!reader

"I think those plastic ponies from theme parks are more your style, darlin'" Boothill said while guiding the horse around the paddock, truth to be said, you were terrible at this, like how did he do it? while galloping? and shotting? you would never understand how talented this man can be.

"Oh shut up i am not that bad" You said, keeping your hands on the reins and trying yout best to not fall out of the animal who was at the lowest speed ever "Not that bad?" Boothill teased arching a brow "Then, by all means, show me your flawless equestrian skills Y/N" His grin widened giving you an amused look.

"I really hope this horse kicks you" that made boothill chuckle and roll his eyes "watch it Y/N" he warned playfully "You might just get what you wish for." He gave you a light tap on your hip "Now, focus on maintainin' your balance and stop wavin' your legs around like a flag" he said playfully.

"My legs do not look like a flag" you rolled your eyes, Boothill chuckled at your retort, his gaze shifting to observe the way your limbs flailed without proper control "You do realize that flailing your legs is part of the reason for all this wobblin', right?" he pointed out, his tone carrying a note of playful amusement "What do you mean by flailing my legs? my position is amazing" you said proudly.

Boothill arched a skeptical brow, his red pupils narrowing with an amused glint "Is that so? Well, let's check your 'amazing' position, shall we? For starters, your knees should be tight against the horse's body. That way, you'll have better control" he explained, making a subtle gesture indicating the way you should adjust your seating.

For once you actually listened to his explanation adjusting your position on the saddle and trying to maintain a better control, "That's much better, I reckon" he commented, his tone approving "You see? A little guidance can go a long way." you rolled your eyes at that, he noticed it and let out a chuckle "Now, Start with walking your horse in a circle, just to warm up," he instructed with a confident nod.

you nodded and tried to get the horse to walk again, you managed to get your horse to walk once again, Boothill stood by your side, offering support and guidance "You're doin' good!" he praised, his grin widening "Just keep holdin' the reins gently and move 'em slightly to guide your horse" you nodded and used the reins to guide the horse, Boothill observed your progress with a keen eye. His expression held a mix of pride and amusement as he acknowledged your improvement "See? You're gettin' the hang of it Y/N" he encouraged, his voice tinged with satisfaction "Keep it up, and soon you'll be gallopin' through the plains like a pro." you scoffed with a chuckle "i could never be as good as you, you go galloping and shooting stuff"

"Ah, but that's because I've had years of practice and honed my skills" he explained with a cocky grin. "And trust me, you might just surprise yourself with how fast you progress once you practice enough, just keep practicin', and you'll be gallopin' soon enough," he encouraged.

"fine i guess you are not that bad at giving motivation after all" you said with a chuckle, boothill's smirk widened into a pleased grin as you acknowledged his motivational skills "Looks like I'm not just a pretty face," he teased, his tone playfully boastful "I've got a knack for boostin' the ol' spirits." you scoffed "did you just call me old?"

"Ah, don't mind that, darlin'. Everyone's a bit of an 'ol' soul at heart," he explained, his tone carrying a playful undertone, he turned his gaze to the horizon once more, admiring the landscape before them "Besides, 'old' aint all that bad, is it? It means experiencin' life, learnin' a thing or two. And you know what they say: with age comes wisdom" you chuckle at those words "wow grandpa getting a bit to relatable over there" Boothill chuckled at your teasing, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes "Ah, just wait, darlin'. Someday you'll find yourself sayin' the same things to the youngsters. Life has a way of playin' its little tricks, turnin' the tables on ya," you stopped the horse and looked at thim.

"That would be true if you werent just 1 year older than me" Boothill's smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head, acknowledging your remark "Aye, you caught me there, Y/N, But let's be honest, a year in the grand scheme is nothin'! Besides, I'm just sharin' some of life's lessons, Wisdom doesn't discriminate based on age." He shrugged playfully, a hint of confidence lingering in his demeanor.

"But hey, if you prefer the ol' 'grandpa' title, by all means, I can embrace it." you chuckle "Alright newton help me get off of the horse before you start yapping about life mistakes or something" He walked over to your horse and held out his hand. "As you wish, missy. Here, let me help you down," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

Once you safely dismounted, Boothill took a moment to pat the horse's neck affectionately before turning to you, you turned your attention to him s well "i'm starving, wanna go with me to the coffee shop nearby?" you asked, Boothill's grin widened as you changed the subject "Sure thing, Y/N! I could use a cup of coffee" he commented giving the horse for the caretaker to take, as you made your way towards the nearby coffee shop, Boothill walked beside you, his eyes scanning the surroundings "I hear they've got a new blueberry muffin. Can't promise I won't devour the whole thing, though," he chuckled, his gaze returning to you with a playful wink.

Fine you admit this man is fine as hell, you wouldn't mind starting riding lessons just to be with him.

repost are appreciated, please don't translate my work without permission ♡

#boothill hsr #boothill #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #hsr x you #writing #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr #hsr boothill

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historical-fashion-polls · 23 days

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another follower celebration?

hello my loves! 💕

I come to you with both good and bad news today

bad news first: we have just over 10 flower children polls left, at which time they shall all return to the gardens and fields from whence they came to continue bringing joy and whimsy to all those they meet

good news: in the meantime, we have hit 2k (!!!! 🤯🤯) and I would love to do another celebration for you all to say thank you!!

my plan is as follows: I've had a number of requests to do earlier fashion periods, and for a lot of reasons, I have limited myself to primarily commercial fashion plates/fashion illustrations (more on that here) and thus the images that I personally source for the blog don't go much further back than the mid-1700s (more on that here). HOWEVER, for our 2k celebration, I will be temporarily lifting some of those restrictions and expanding the time period of the blog!! 🥰🥰

two caveats:

sourcing these types of images takes more time and effort, so I will not be able to keep this up indefinitely (esp since I'm starting my phd program in the fall), but as I get things sorted for the celebration I'll let y'all know how long I'll be personally sourcing images from a more expansive time period and a broader range of sources

you are always welcome to submit images from earlier periods!! I just have to be realistic about what I can personally do in terms of research and sourcing for the blog, but if you have older images you want to see featured, you can send them in at any time!! (all info on submitting images can be found in my pinned post! ☺️)

but now onto what I'm best at: a poll!! I'd like to know what you all would most like to see and what areas I should focus on, so if you have thoughts, please vote in the poll below and let me know! also, some of these responses are vast ranges of time, so if you have a specific year/decade/century within one of the options, please do let me know via tags, comments, asks, etc. 🥰 also I cannot promise that I will be able to find usable images for all of these periods – I mostly want to gauge interest before I go looking for potential images to use ☺️

and yes I did use art historical classifications, please don't judge me it's what makes most sense to my brain 😅🫣

if there is a lot of interest in a specific time period, I'll likely run some more specific polls to narrow in on some key moments of interest, but please do let me know any specific things you might like to see! ☺️

#the curator speaks #curatorial updates #very historical historical fashion polls

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dragon-ascent · 1 year

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Mora For Your Thoughts?

Zhongli is always interested in what you have to say, no matter what it is.

★彡penny for your thoughts, zhongli edition.

"Mora for your thoughts?"

You smile up at your husband, whose question has pulled you out of your midday reverie. Zhongli sets the tea tray he’s been holding on the table, settles beside you on the couch with a tender smile and kisses your cheek, eagerly awaiting your answer.

"Well," you begin, "I was wondering why cats get nine lives, but dogs don't."

Zhongli rubs his chin thoughtfully. "A fascinating question. In fact, I seem to recall a story from centuries past that tells the story of a cat and his dog companion, and how they once compete for immortality." He pauses, knowing that the story will take all evening to narrate - which he will only do if you're fine with it.

You rest your head on his shoulder, knowing full well that any story from Zhongli's internal archives is bound to be a treat. "Go on." There is tea, and there is time.

******

"Mora for your thoughts?"

Sitting by the windowsill, you keep your gaze upon the clear sapphire sky up above. "I was just wondering what it would feel like to soar in the sky, unfettered by the troubles of the world below."

Zhongli hums. "If I weren't living strictly as a mortal, I would love to let you ride on my back across the skies."

You turn to him, a big smile on your face. "Wow, really? In your dragon form?"

"Of course, dearest. Though I doubt that would be possible at present, but perhaps one day." He, too, now looks up into the blue, blue sky.

You shake your head. "It's the thought that counts! Just imagining it makes my heart race! I've always wanted to ride you - I...I mean ride on your back while you're in dragon form..."

Zhongli throws his head back and laughs, a pleasant, rumbling baritone that never fails to make butterflies erupt within you. With golden eyes full of mirth, he says, "For now, I shall regale you with descriptions of the sky and clouds from my own experiences. Would you like that?"

"Yes please! Tell me all there is to see and experience alongside the loftiest birds!"

And thus, your husband kisses your forehead and begins to narrate his skyward anecdotes, each description more vivid than the last, until it feels like you are up there in the skies atop a draconic Zhongli, feeling the wind race across your face and the clouds split into tendrils like cotton.

******

You narrow your eyes down at the book you're reading, utterly displeased with the direction the author's taking. Though you suppose it's to be expected of a run-of-the-mill romance... still, you sigh and look up from the novel, finding Zhongli's own inquisitive gaze upon you. He is reading a book as well, but for now chooses instead to focus on his beloved.

"Mora for your thoughts?"

You smile at the fondly familiar question. "I just find it frustrating how, in the novel I'm reading, the main character is more attracted to the man with anger issues and a drinking problem, rather than the level-headed and genuinely kind man."

"Ah, a case of second-lead syndrome, hm?"

"Yup," you affirm, and then sigh again, "it wouldn't be so bad if the romance scenes were at least well-written. None of them seem romantically-charged at all. It's frustrating. There's so many things the author could have done..."

"Is that so?" Zhongli sets aside his book, his eyes carefully trained on you. "Have you any suggestions?"

It's an innocuous question, so you answer without hesitating. "They could've had a scene where they were pressed together in a tight space, or had to share a single bed at a busy inn...and their kissing scenes are drier than the Desert of Hadramaveth! I would've liked it if their kisses had both passion and tenderness."

A soft chuckle, and Zhongli is now cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch contentedly as his thumb draws soothing circles along your cheek. "Shall we enact your romantic fantasies and make them a reality?"

Saying this, your husband kisses you, equal parts tender and passionate. What follows makes sure you know firsthand that what you two have is miles more powerful than words in the pages of a book.

#zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #sini writes #zhongli x you #fluff #mora

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vickyvicarious · 10 months

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Dracula Declarations of Love

There is so much love, and so much talk of love, in this book. It's extremely hard to pick a favorite, but let's give it a go (or just get emotional over a bunch of quotes lined up together).

I tried to stick mostly to declarations/talk about (rather than acts of) love, primarily to focus on specific quotes and help me narrow it down to just twelve (still a big challenge). Before anyone asks, no, "I too can love" is not on here because Dracula's version of love doesn't stack up to the others for me in terms of emotional impact. And these were definitely chosen by my personal preference of specific quotes; there are a bunch of other great words of love that didn't make it in. Also, important note - this is not exclusively romantic love by any means.

The whole quotes don't fit in the poll, so please read below before you vote.

Full Quotes:

11 May, Lucy: "Oh, Mina, couldn't you guess? I love him. I am blushing as I write, for although I think he loves me, he has not told me so in words. But oh, Mina, I love him; I love him; I love him!"

24 May, Quincey: "If that other fellow doesn't know his happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow."

19 August, Mina: "I have cried over the good Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies. It is of Jonathan, and must be next my heart, for he is in my heart. [...] I must write no more; I must keep it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and touched must comfort me till we meet."

24 August, Jonathan and Mina: "Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to win it, if need be. [...] Well, my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life."

24 August, Mina: "Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me; so that in your own married life you too may be all happy as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises: a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be; but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now."

7 September, Arthur: '"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for her."'

17 September, Mina: "Jonathan asks me to send his 'respectful duty,' but I do not think that is good enough from the junior partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and tenses of the verb, I send you simply his 'love' instead."

30 September, Mina and Arthur: '"I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to you, and what you were to her. She and I were like sisters; and now she is gone, will you not let me be like a sister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have had, though I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can help in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little service—for Lucy's sake?" [...] "I know now how I suffered," he said, as he dried his eyes, "but I do not know even yet—and none other can ever know—how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day. I shall know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother, will you not, for all our lives—for dear Lucy's sake?"'

3 October, Jonathan: '"Nonsense, Mina. It is a shame to me to hear such a word [unclean]. I would not hear it of you; and I shall not hear it from you. May God judge me by my deserts, and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, if by any act or will of mine anything ever come between us!" He put out his arms and folded her to his breast; and for a while she lay there sobbing."

3 October, Jonathan: "To one thing I have made up my mind: if we find out that Mina must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in old times one vampire meant many; just as their hideous bodies could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks."

11 October, Mina: "You are nearest and dearest and all the world to me; our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time."

31 October, Mina: "We are truly in the hands of God. He alone knows what may be, and I pray Him, with all the strength of my sad and humble soul, that He will watch over my beloved husband; that whatever may happen, Jonathan may know that I loved him and honoured him more than I can say, and that my latest and truest thought will be always for him."

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #polls #my polls #jonmina and mina especially are kind of taking over. they're just too damn romantic/she's so damn good at talking about love #sorry to those who didn't make it on here. doesn't mean i don't love em too but it these are some of the individual lines that hit hardest #/make me personally most emotional #even then i have added on/taken off a couple #spoiled for choice i guess!#anyways posting today since two of the options are from today

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prof-ramses · 2 months

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This is a very real SM theory

What I've stumbled across this time is, I'll admit, completely batshit on the face of it. BUT, if you follow my flow of logic, I think you'll actually be more convinced than you'd expect

So, what is it that set my theorist mind off? Well, the character we knew we were meeting this episode, Aaron (which is apparently the name of Ross's dad in that model sheet)

We only see him twice (and no, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you, his tattoo changes what arm it's on between scenes) and in those scenes, he's mostly silent and is notably not paying attention to Jaune, despite her talking with their obviously distressed shared friend in the first scene and is separated from Jaune by the cinematography in the second scene.

From what we've seen of Aaron, both in this episode and the TT photos, he isn't very expressive, but he still shows his feelings through movement, or rather, a position in the photos, something absent in his present self.

So, what, if anything, lead to this seeming slight rift between Aaron and Jaune?

Well, we could assume it was something after Ross's birth, but could we narrow it down further? Yes, yes we can, mainly due to the first bomb I'm about to drop on you.

Jaune is a cult spy

Yes, I'm dead fucking serious. Let's look over the way the cult operates, shall we? They carefully monitor anything related to their plans while other members are on stand by, should something go wrong. How does this tie to Jaune?

Simple, she's the one keeping tabs on Lila, Ignacio does live closer, but is so abrasive, he could never get close enough to someone for intimate spying. Jaune on the other hand, as Lila's best friend, could theoretically keep tabs on certain aspects of Lila's life.

The next obvious question is why. Why would Jaune spy on Lila for a cult? Well, she wouldn't. She would, however, keep a close eye on her friend if someone else close to said friend, like say, said friend's husband, expressed concern for her emotional well being.

I know I'm probably losing some of you now, but this is where we get to another insanely counter intuitive yet convincing claim.

Jaune isn't spying on Lila because Lila's husband asked her, she's spying on Lila because she doesn't want Lila to know that-

Jaune had an affair with Lila's husband

I KNOW, I KNOW, I sound like Dale from King of the Hill right now, but I swear to you, this will all click together by the end.

Picture this, Jaune, a heavy drinker, is over at her friend's house one night when Lila's husband starts coming onto her and you know what happens, this goes from a one off event, to a semi-regular ritual for the pair. Some time later, he tells Jaune that he's worried Lila might catch on, and encourages her to carefully pay attention to any sudden mood shifts and.... share them wit ha trusted associate of his.

So, now that I've established the logic of this happening and that it will likely come into focus at some point, but what does this have to do with Aaron's detachment and how could it come into play?

It's not just that Aaron knows Jaune cheated and will reveal it to Lila, no, it's so much worse.

But first, I have to dispel some fanon for a moment, despite how popular the concept is, we have no in or out of series proof that Ross dyes his hair, the only photo of him we see is him and Aaron with Ross looking just as he does at present.

Why do I bring this up, oh my poor unsuspecting friends, it should be clear. If Ross has naturally black hair, that would mean-

Ross matches the genetic profile of Jaune and Skidad's biological child

And there you have it, the dark underbelly at back of the newest instalment in our beloved Halloween series.

And, if by some chance, you still don't believe this theory of Ross and Skid being half-brothers to be at the very least valid, well then, I have something that will blow your fucking mind.......

.........

And I'm not telling you cause it's 'Pril Fools Day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#spooky month #sm Jaune #sm Aaron #sm Ross #sm Lila #sm Skid's dad #sm Skidad #sm Ignacio #sm Skid #sm theory #spooky month theory #sm prediction #spooky month prediction

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gaeforwom3n · 1 year

Text

Detective

Summary: Hermione and Y/n have a serious conversation about murder and theft. Y/n flirts with Hermione, but Hermione refuses. Y/n wants Hermione to tell her everything and help bring justice to the victims and their families. Hermione is confident and intelligent, but Y/n is not easily swayed. Y/n wants Hermione to tell her everything and help bring justice to the victims and their families.

warnings: nothing :)

wc; 281

pairing: hermione granger x fem. reader

note: Modern!AU

As Hermione took a seat across from Y/n, the criminal couldn't help but notice the confidence and intelligence exuding from her. Y/n tried to flirt, hoping to distract Hermione from the serious conversation at hand, but the detective was not easily swayed.

"So, you're Hermione Granger, huh?" Y/n said, leaning forward in her chair and flashing a coy smile.

"I am," Hermione replied coolly, not allowing herself to be affected by Y/n's playful demeanor.

"You know, you don't have to be so serious all the time. We could have some fun together," Y/n said suggestively.

"I'm afraid I don't find murder and theft very fun, Miss Y/n," Hermione said sharply, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Come on, don't be so upset. You could show me a good time," Y/n said, leaning even closer to Hermione.

"I think we both know that's not why I'm here. Let's stick to the matter at hand, shall we?" Hermione said firmly, not backing down.

"Fine, have it your way. But I have to admit, you're pretty impressive. I've never met a detective like you," Y/n said, trying a different approach.

"Thank you, but flattery won't get you anywhere with me. Let's focus on the case," Hermione responded, keeping her tone professional.

"Alright, alright. So what do you want from me?" Y/n relented, knowing she couldn't charm her way out of the situation.

"I want you to tell me everything. How and why you committed these crimes, and if there are any accomplices? And most importantly, I want you to help me bring justice to the victims and their families," Hermione said, her eyes locking onto Y/n's.

#hermione x fem reader #hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #harry potter #wlw fanfic #modern au

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useless19 · 6 months

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I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

#bowuigi #days #this got long #ask

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saltydumplings · 2 years

Note

Hi, are you able to just write an extremely flirty hero/villain and an extremely flustered villain/hero Thanks heaps✨😊

Request #21

OK SO THIS TOTALLY TOOK A TURN THAT NOT EVEN I EXPECTED LMAO, ENJOY!

Cw: suggestive.

"So, the Friday then?" the hero asked with a smile, only just managing to block the villain's punch as the other seemed to come at them with everything they had.

"What about Friday?" the villain said with a frown.

The hero merely grinned. "Well, dinner of course."

The villain's eyes narrowed and they landed a sharp hit to the hero's gut, huffing in amusement when the other crumpled to the ground pathetically.

"We're not having dinner," they stated bluntly.

"Yes...Yes we - we are..." the hero wheezed out, coughing a little while the villain stared down at them. "And you know...you know what's for dessert?"

"Don't--"

"You."

A pause.

The villain stepped back before suddenly swinging around, aiming a kick directly at the hero's face only for the other to catch them by the ankle - not quite as weak as the villain had anticipated. They grunted, trying to claim their leg back only to stumble a little as the hero held strong, forcing the villain to remain wobbling on one foot.

"So shall we say my place, eight-thirty?" the hero asked, cheery as ever even with the villain glowering at them. "I would suggest a restaurant but I would hate for us to be disturbed--"

"I am not having dinner with you," the villain said resolutely.

The hero cocked their head to the side. "Why not?"

"Because I see enough of your stupid face already and the last thing I need is to--"

The villain cut off with a shrill squeak, the hero yanking their leg up and over their shoulder without warning and sending the villain falling forwards - their hands desperately grasping onto the hero's head for purchase without thinking, a great wave of heat surging up to their cheeks the second they realised just how little space there was between their crotch and the hero's face. God, they could practically feel the other breathing; could feel the burning heat of the hero's hands as they moved up to hold the villain in place, one gripping their waist whilst the other hooked over their thigh, caressing and stroking gently in ways that had the villain shuddering.

"I knew it," the hero said, eyes almost sparkling as they regarded the flustered villain above them, marvelling at the sight. "You like me."

The villain's blush darkened, gaze quickly darting to the side as they started to squirm - all thoughts of attacking the hero leaving their mind in a blind panic, replaced only by the thought of running and running far. "N-No, I don't!"

The hero hummed. "I really think you do..."

"I DO NOT!"

"You sure?"

The hero's hand travelled a little higher up the villain's thigh and the other stilled, watching with baited breath as the hero leaned up to place a small kiss upon their hip. The villain barely felt it through their costume but still they blushed, feeling transfixed while the hero continued to place another and another - their kisses gradually getting lower until they abruptly came to a stop, the villain letting out a small sound that was somewhere between a sigh of relief and a disappointed whine.

"You know, I always thought it was interesting," the hero said, their thumb still drawing circles into the villain's thigh. "Sure, you hardly show me any mercy when we fight but the other heroes get beaten bloody. I've seen it - seen them come back after fighting you barely standing. Not me though: no, you're softer with me. You beat me to a point and then you stop."

The villain's heart was racing in their chest, legs starting to tremble a little from the awkward positioning - their focus still trained on trying to keep as much distance between them as possible but the more seconds dragged by the harder it got. Slowly, they felt themself starting to sink down against their will, forced to let the hero hold more of their weight which only seemed to delight the other more.

"Why so shy?" the hero asked. "Why continue to deny yourself?"

"I'm not denying myself a-anything," the villain said but their voice shook, revealing their lie easily.

The hero frowned a little, some speculation or other crossing their mind. "You're denying yourself this," they said, pressing one more small kiss against the villain's thigh. "I want you - that much I've made obvious. You can take this, take me, whenever you want so why deny it? Seems kind of illogical, doesn't it?"

The villain said nothing. Their gaze turned away once more and they took a breath, hands gripping the hero's shoulders tightly and suddenly the hero was confused. Confused as to why the villain wasn't accepting their offer - confused why the other still tried to push them away when they also didn't seem to want to let them go.

"Villain?"

No response.

All of a sudden, the hero wondered if they'd got it all wrong and gone too far. They let their hold loosen a little, their previous excitement of having the villain so close replaced by something more unsettling - a deep concern that they couldn't quite shake, especially not when they could see the villain's expression closing off again, becoming guarded just like it always was.

"I can't."

The hero barely caught the words - the villain's voice so quiet - but when they finally sunk in their confusion and worry only grew: this wasn't how they'd expected this to go.

"What?"

The villain turned to stare down at them, eyes strangely sad in a way the hero had never seen before.

"I'm married," they said. Then they landed a swift hit straight to the hero's face, using the other's shock to their advantage and breaking free - stumbling out of the hero's hold and sprinting down the street out of sight.

The hero gaped at their receding form, one hand rubbing idly at their cheek whilst those two words danced across their mind, bouncing back and forth like a pendulum.

I'm married.

Disappointment and a strange, unshakeable dread started to build up within them - the hero already suspecting there was far more to the situation than the villain was telling. Who were they married to? Why was the hero only finding out just now? If they were married happily then why let the hero flirt with them or, better yet, if unhappily married then why stay married?

The more the hero thought of it, the more uneasy they grew. The villain didn't wear a ring, nor had they ever been known to have a partner of any kind.

The villain's marriage was clearly something they hadn't wanted to share, and the hero had a sneaking suspicion that their secrecy wasn't for the purpose of protecting their spouse...

#writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain #hero x villain #hero #villain

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berettajane · 2 years

Text

Dangerous Woman

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader [platonic]

Word Count: 662

Summary: Reader gets insulted while working a case but the boys have her back.

A/N: I do not own the picture used!

“Feds are allowing skirts to do the leg work nowadays, huh? Don’t eat too many of those donuts there, sweetheart; you’ll lose your figure. We all know how much you need that to be in your favor,” the robust deputy cackled, cramming the rest of the powdered donut into his mouth, patting your hip with his other hand.

You inhaled deeply, summoning everything within your being to not fuck this guy up. “My excellent marksmanship and interrogation skills are higher up in things that are in my favor than my ‘figure’, pal. And I’m not just good for a skirt ; I’m best in my unit. Keep your mouth up and you’ll find that out.”

You hear Sam snort behind you before he regains his composure.

“Step aside, darlin’,” you hear behind you. You turn to see Dean rubbing his hands together as he licks his lips. “Nothing gets between a man and his donuts.”

Having not heard the exchange between you and the deputy as he had been flirting with the receptionist, Dean unknowingly throws you over the edge with his comment.

You turn, stalking off to search for some space to breathe in peace.

“She’s pissed, isn’t she?” Dean muffles around his mouthful.

“Yeah,” Sam sighs. “I got her,” he mumbled as he turned to follow you down the hallway of the police station. Even with your short stature and being in heels, you were able to put some distance between you. Sam breaks into a light jog, quickly weaving through staff as he follows the sound of your heels down the hallway.

“Y/N!” he calls your name, putting the “agent” facade aside for the moment. You turn on the ball of your foot, causing Sam to stop short to keep from running into you.

“Don’t you dare come down here defending that asshole, Sam,” you warn, stepping towards him with your finger raised and your eyes narrowed. Sam puts his hands in the air as if asking for a cease-fire.

“I’m not here to defend anyone. I’m here to check on you and calm you down.”

“I am no less of a hunter or investigator just because I’m a woman, and I know I’d be a better cop or agent than that piece of shit,” you quitely fume, leaning your back against the wall of the hallway.

“Without a doubt,” Sam agreed with you. You look up at him stoically, feeling as if he’s only agreeing with you to placate you so that you can focus on the case again. You begin to walk further down the hall towards the exit, only for Sam to lightly grab your upper arm. You look down at his hand before meeting his eyes, a daring glare on your face.

“Y/N, you know that Dean and I see you as our equals, right?” he asserts, his voice low.

“Equal to the legendary Winchesters?” you whisper sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

“Equal to us as men, as human beings,” Sam clarifies. “We don’t dismiss that you’re a woman, but we don’t believe you’re limited by it either,” he paused to tilt your chin up so your eyes met his. “There isn’t anyone on this planet we would choose over you to have our backs day in and day out. I sincerely apologize if we’ve made you feel any other way up ‘til now.”

You smile at him thankfully. “C’mon, let’s go bust this case open, now that we’ve got the chick flick moment out of the way.”

Sam belly laughs, shaking his head as he dutifully follows you, happy to see confidence back in your strut.

Meanwhile...

Dean encroaches into the deputy’s space, “Yeah, you ever touch her again, I’ll break your face.” Dean snarls, “And then, I’ll let her finish you.” He claps the deputy on his back before breaking into a wide grin when you walk back into the room with Sam in tow. “Ah, Agents! Let’s get this rolling, shall we?”

Masterlist

AO3: BerettaJane

#berettajane #supernatural #dean x reader #sam x reader #protective dean #feminism #supernatural blurb #platonic #reader insert #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester/reader #dean winchester x you

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aaaaaaaaaaashes · 1 month

Text

The Clone Wars: Unfinished Business

The 4th and final part of the Clone Wars Bad Batch arc with my OC: Specter! If you've stuck around this far, dear reader, thank you so much for taking an interest in Specter. Her story has just begun and I will be posting the first episode of The Bad Batch: Specter next Friday (5/10/24). As for the format of this episode; since the original went back and forth between Anakin's team and Obi-wan/Mace's teams, this will remain with Anakin and the Bad Batch, just to keep continuity towards Specter's perspective. this has been edited. Enjoy!

Specter finished adjusting her hair just as Crosshair and Hunter arrived with the rest of their gear. Wrecker hung out near her while Tech made a final inspection of the Marauder before their next mission.

Echo apparently had a plan to help the Republic take back Anaxes; while Generals Windu and Kenobi had the ground, the Bad Batch, Rex, General Skywalker, and Echo would infiltrate Admiral Trench’s dreadnought and counteract their attack patterns. She couldn’t care less about the specifics, as long as it would lead to a Republic victory.

“Tech, is everything ready?” Hunter asked.

“Yup, Sarge. We are ready. Still not sure how we’re gonna land on that ship.”

“Don’t worry. Echo says he’s got a plan,” Rex assured, coming up behind Tech.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Tech replied flatly with a shake of his head.

“What do you mean by that?”

“To be blunt—”

“He’s always blunt,” Specter said as she passed by. Tech sighed and continued.

“His mind belonged to the Separatists until we unplugged him. We don’t really know where his loyalties lie,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Right.. Well, I do know. Now, get moving,” Rex said gruffly.

Once everyone was on the ship, they took off, veering away from the Republic fleet heading towards planet-side battle and up to the Admiral’s dreadnought.

“Please tell me we are blowing something up,” Wrecker hoped with almost child-like anticipation.

“Sorry, Wrecker, once again, this is strictly stealth,” said General Skywalker.

“I hate that word,” the brute groaned in complaint.

“I don’t,” Specter said with a smirk.

“Well, of course you wouldn’t. Your name is Specter.”

“Both of you, focus, please,” Anakin chided before turning. “Echo, you’re up.” The clone nodded and went toward the console.

“Don’t worry. As soon as I plug in, I’ll send a signal to the command ship.” He plugged his scomp-arm into the port.

“What type of signal are you gonna send? Nothing that’ll give us away, right?” Hunter eyed Echo cautiously. The entire Bad Batch was uneasy about the situation: the situation being Echo. Specter couldn’t help but agree with what Tech had said earlier, worried the Separatists could easily turn Echo against them, or somehow find out their plan of attack.

“As far as the droids are concerned, we’re just gonna be another one of their shuttles coming in for a landing,” Echo explained.

“And the regs think we take risks,” Hunter mumbled just loud enough for Specter to hear. She chuckled, playfully elbowing him in the ribs with a smirk.

“Sending the signal now.”

The team waited in silence, hoping the plan would work.

“Roger, roger, Shuttle TC-159. You may approach and land,” a battle droid said through the radio. Specter let out an audible sigh of relief.

“I’d still rather blow it up,” Wrecker grumbled as they approached and landed on the underbelly of the massive ship.

“I have a feeling you’ll get your chance, given our track record,” Specter muttered.

“Shall we bet on it?” Tech asked from the pilot’s chair. She snickered.

“Let’s not bet on the chances of a certainty.”

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

The team landed aboard the dreadnought undetected. So far, the coast was clear as the Bad Batch, General Skywalker, Rex, and Echo snuck through the corridors of the ship and towards the comm vault.

Specter led the group, occasionally signaling for the team to proceed. Her pistol was raised and ready for any potential scuffle.

They reached the vault. Specter held up a fist, the group paused before she scanned the area and indicated the coast was clear, letting Tech come forward and use his datapad to open the vault. He followed the General, Captain, and Echo inside while the others stood guard.

It was all up to Echo now.

Skywalker reappeared a minute later, the rest of the team gathered around.

“Alright, Echo will be in the system in just a moment. Are there any other entrances to the vault?”

“Not that we’ve seen, but we could always do a quick sweep,” said Hunter. “You, me, and Wrecker can double-check the perimeter. Twins? You two keep an eye on things in this immediate area, but stay off comms. If we end up detected, it’ll be best to give you more time. If none of us find anything, we’ll rendezvous back here,” Hunter ordered. They nodded and split, sans Specter and Crosshair. The former of the two slouched against a wall and sighed dramatically.

[I’m bored], she signed with her hands, exaggerating the slouch in her shoulders and letting her head fall back against the wall.

[We just got here], he replied, frustratedly signing, Specter could tell he wasn’t in the mood for her antics, which gave her all the more reason to continue.

[But we’re just keeping guard and I'm not detecting any activity in this area.]

[Would you rather be in there?] he nodded towards the inner chamber. Specter sighed, contemplating. [Do you trust him?]

[No], that answer was easy. [But we’ll see how he pulls through. I think he can tell we don’t exactly like him.]

[I'm not a fan of ghosts], Crosshair shrugged as he signed. Specter’s shoulders bounced in silent laughter.

[I’ll try not to be offended.]

[I’m not a fan of you either], he teased.

[I'll never forgive you now.] He made the motion of swiping at her, shaking his head. [I really wonder if the Separatists could take control of him again], she signed, keeping an eye on the room.

[Anything is possible], he shrugged.

“What are you two talking about?” Hunter asked, reappearing with Wrecker and Skywalker.

“Nothing,” they simultaneously said, crossing their arms.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s Echo’s status?” Hunter waited for an answer, they said nothing, only sheepishly hanging their heads and taking arms once more. Wrecker laughed, taking a position by the main entrance, while Hunter shook his head and took off his helmet, moving to stand by the door with Skywalker.

“I’m intercepting a transmission,” Tech said from the inner chamber, catching the group’s attention. “Trench is ordering all of his droids… to the assembly complex.”

The same one Generals Kenobi and Windu were attempting to take back. Specter gripped her rifle a little tighter, craning her neck to peer inside.

“Alright, Echo, what are you trying to pull?” Hunter accused, stepping towards the clone.

“Don’t worry, that’s what I told them to do,” Echo assured, seeming all too confident in his risky move. His tone made Specter uneasy.

“That’s making me worry more,” Specter chimed in. Crosshair shot her a look and she shrugged.

“Our troops will be vastly outnumbered,” said Rex, seeming to doubt his friend for a moment.

“Not when I send them a feedback pulse that shuts down all the droids,” countered Echo.

“Oh, right. Sure thing. Problem solved,” Specter remarked sarcastically.

“How do we know that’s what you’re really trying to do?” Tech questioned.

“We have to trust him,” Rex said after a beat of silence.

“Rex is right,” Skywalker affirmed. “Echo, we’re all counting on you.” The clone nodded and went to work. Hunter motioned for Specter to stand down, but still shared a wary glance with her and Tech. Crosshair went to stand by his twin—who had rested her rifle against the wall—watching as Skywalker reported to the planet-side Generals.

“Master Windu, I know this sounds crazy, but it’s about to get a little more crowded where you are.” Crosshair looked at her, she held up a hand for him to wait and hear.

“We have our hands full as it is. What is your plan?” Windu replied.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it isn’t my plan. Echo is drawing all the droids to your position so he can neutralize them all at the same time,” he explained.

[Is he really?] He signed

[I can’t say. Best we can do is trust him and wait], she replied. [I don’t like it either.]

So they waited with baited breath, either for the clone forces on Anaxes to be overwhelmed, or for Echo to come through and shut down all the droids. Hunter and Skywalker exited the room, allowing Echo to finish the job. Specter anxiously and instinctively brought a hand up to chew on her nails, but forced it back down, not wanting to take off her helmet or seem unprofessional. Several minutes later, General Windu came through the comm.

“I am pleased to report that we are in control of the assembly complex, and all of the fronts are falling to the Republic thanks to Echo’s plan,” he said. Skywalker smiled, nodding toward Hunter and the twins before turning back inside.

“That’s good news, Master Windu. We’re on our way back to the base.”

“May the Force be with you.”

[And also with you], Crosshair signed. Specter choked back a laugh and smacked his arm.

It worked, she thought to herself with a sigh of relief. While she still didn’t exactly trust Echo, she would consider him off of her radar of suspicion.

“Good job, Echo,” Skywalker complimented.

“Well, I guess you actually are on our side,” said Hunter.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Echo gave a playful salute and smile.

Hunter looked as if he might say something before Tech interjected, “Some,” blunt as usual.

“I second that,” Specter called into the room. Rex chuckled and waved his arm as if dismissing her.

“Come on, brother, unplug and let’s get out of here.”

[Happy now, Specter?]

[Yes, finally], she signed with relaxed hands. She picked up her rifle and walked with him further down the corridor, closer to Wrecker, ready to escape the dreadnought, until Echo called for them to-

“Wait, I just scanned a new order from Trench. He’s initiated a countdown. There’s a bomb hidden at the assembly complex, but it’s big enough to destroy most of Anaxes.”

“Can you stop it?” Skywalker asked.

“Well, I can try,” answered Echo, though he didn’t sound too certain. Skywalker seemed to have an idea and wasted no time running down the hall.

“General, where are you going?” Rex called after him.

“If you can’t stop the detonation, perhaps Trench can!”

“Detonation?” Wrecker enthusiastically wondered allowed after the Jedi had run past.

“Against the Republic,” the twins replied, shutting down his excitement.

“So we have to hope Echo can shut it down?”

“Yes.”

“Would you two stop saying things at the same time? It creeps me out!” Wrecker cried.

“No.”

“Awwww, c’mon it's weird!”

At that moment, a metal clanging down the hall caught their attention; Crosshair peered around the corner, pulling back just as a blaster bolt flew past his head.

Trench knew they were there.

Without another word, the three took positions and fired back, though they didn’t make much of a dent in the oncoming forces.

Hunter eventually caught up with them, Tech, Rex, and a barely conscious Echo trailed behind.

“We got company!” Wrecker shouted, charging forward to assist Crosshair and Specter in their coverfire. “What happened to him?” he nodded towards Echo.

“Electrical feedback overloaded his systems,” Tech answered. “Sabotage from Admiral Trench.”

“Great,” muttered Crosshair.

“Hey, we’re almost through!”

“Don’t jinx it, Wrecker,” Specter warned as she switched from her rifle for her shotgun. Taking center stage, she fired a few shots at the droids, bright bursts of plasma knocked the enemy back and gave Wrecker and Crosshair enough cover to shoot them down and clear the way.

“Now, let’s get moving before another wave comes,” Hunter ordered with a nod.

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

Wrecker, Crosshair, and Specter cleared the way ahead while Hunter and Tech provided cover from droids approaching from behind. The unit created a protective circle around Rex, who had Echo slung over his shoulder.

“We can’t blast our way out. There’s too many of them,” Rex said, placing down Echo when another wave of droids appeared in their path. Without another word, Wrecker handed Hunter his blaster and cracked his knuckles, Hunter aimed down each end of the hall.

“Oh, here we go,” Specter caught sight of Wrecker punching his fists together and running into the line of fire.

“What’s he doing?” Rex asked.

“Time to release the wrecking ball!” he shouted, charging at the droids. He barreled through them, punching and throwing them down, clearing their path.

“I honestly feel bad for those droids,” Hunter mentioned as the team crouched down, waiting for the assault to finish.

“You don’t feel bad when he crashes into me during training,” Specter accused.

“I think you turned out fine.”

Wrecker made his way through the last of the droids, pounding the last one’s head.

“It’s all clear!” he shouted, waving. The group got up, ready to move out.

“More droids,” Tech noticed them approaching down the other end of the hall.

“Go. I’ll buy you some time,” Crosshair said, moving in front of Tech. He threw a reflective puck at the small group; it stuck to a droid and he shot it down. Firing again, the blaster bolt bounced off the reflective surface, hitting all the droids.

“We’ll meet you at the infiltration point,” Rex said as the group vacated the area.

“Hey, if you die, can I have your stuff?” Specter asked before she left. Crosshair looked at her, his silence an indication of his deadpan expression underneath his helmet. She giggled and ran off.

“Oh! He’s gonna try and top me,” Wrecker complained as Hunter gave him back his blaster. “You watch.”

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

The group made it to the infiltration point, but Tech turned back towards the halls.

“I’m picking up dozens of droids on my sensors, all heading this way,” he announced.

“Hope you’re not waiting on me,” a voice said. It was Anakin, running down the hall to meet them.

“Now all we’re missing is Crosshair,” Hunter reported.

“Speaking of,” Specter said, noticing as he sprinted, leaving behind a trail of more reflective pucks on the walls.

“You miss me?” he asked once he met up with the group. A big group of droids were right behind him.

Who wouldn’t miss your ever dramatic charm? Specter thought with a scoff.

“How touching,” he drawled, using the platform on his shoulder-piece to stabilize his rifle. He fired, hitting the last reflective puck, and the blast ricocheted down the hall, hitting every droid as it bounced from puck to puck.

“He thinks he’s so cool when he does that,” Specter muttered, walking off with her rifle slung over her shoulder. Wrecker lifted up his helmet, gaping at the damage.

“Relax, Wrecker. You’ll top him next time,” Hunter comforted.

“No he won’t,” the sniper chimed in, following the group. The brute pouted.

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

They made a quick escape, everyone piling into the ship as Tech detached from the underbelly of the dreadnought and flew away.

“I’ve got a present for you, Wrecker,” Anakin said, holding up a detonator for the clone.

“Oh, seriously?” he said excitedly. “I get to blow it up? The whole stinking thing?” Wrecker grabbed the detonator and almost cradled it in his hands. He wiped away a tear. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he said between sniffles. He pressed the button.

Specter watched as explosions erupted a second later, destroying the dreadnought and the surrounding ships, from her spot near the rear cannon, smiling at the damage done.

Mission accomplished.

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

“Captain Rex, Corporal Echo, and Clone Force 99,” General Windu said as they all stood at attention, “you all have done a great service for the Republic. Thanks to your courage and effort, Republic shipyards will soon be up and running again.” The Jedi walked away with a respectful nod.

“You’ve got some medals coming your way,” General Kenobi said with a smile before following Windu.

“Thank you, General,” Rex said. He and Echo went to walk, but Echo noticed the Bad Batch did not go to follow.

“You coming?” he asked.

“Not really our thing,” Tech admitted.

“Accolades,” Crosshair hissed.

“Yeah, we’re just in it for the thrill. Yo!” Wrecker said with enthusiasm, pumping his fist.

“We know we’re good, we don’t need a medal to tell us so,” Specter said with a smirk and a hand on her hip.

“You sure it’s your thing?” Hunter asked Echo.

“What do you mean?”

“Your path is different,” he explained before giving a deep huff of a chuckle, “like ours. If you ever feel like you don’t fit in with them, well, find us.” Echo watched as Hunter nodded his group back to their ship. Rex came up to his friend.

“Those are some of the finest troopers I’ve ever fought alongside.” The captain put a hand on Echo’s shoulder, drawing his attention. “Echo. You and I go way back. If you feel that’s where you feel your place is, then that’s where you belong,” Rex encouraged, patting his shoulder and turning to go. Echo looked toward the Batch again.

As Rex walked he knew Echo wouldn’t stay; he turned and saw him talking with the group. Echo turned back to Rex and saluted, leading the rest of the Bad Batch to stand at attention and salute too. Echo was one of them now.

And that's the end of the Clone Wars Bad Batch arc! I hope you enjoyed that! Stay tuned for next week!

#Star wars #Star wars oc #the Bad batch #the Bad batch hunter #tbb hunter x oc #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #clone force 99 #the clone wars #the Bad batch oc #tbb oc #sw tbb #sw tcw #f!oc

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honourablejester · 1 year

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Character Concept: A Functionary Phantom Rogue

So, a while back I did a homebrew background I called a functionary, for that quintessential pen-pusher of a character. And one of the bonds I spitballed was ‘Nobody has seen more people hurt because of numbers on a piece of paper than I have.’ And I was looking at the Phantom Rogue today, because I really like the literally haunted subclasses, and the thought merged back with that line from that background I wrote a year ago. Someone haunted, to the extent of a genuine supernatural connection to death, by the deaths that result from numbers on a piece of paper.

So. Let’s build a character on a theme of guilt. A functionary, a fussy little paper pusher, whose numbers led to a lot of death, and who for once had to witness it, and who walked away scarred and haunted by the experience.

I was thinking about war or maybe torture, but I didn’t want … I wasn’t going for the size and malice and obliviousness of that. Something smaller. Meaner. Messier. I wanted her to be genuinely innocent, genuinely ignorant, not of one vast conspiracy but of everyday mundane misuse. So. Cost-cutting. An industrial accident. Let’s go for wealth and numbers and the lives cost by it. I decided on a mine collapse. And a murder. And one haunted pen-pusher who now carries a big knife, and is determined that if people die for her actions now, they’ll die in person, by her actual hands, and without the shield of numbers that she can pretend don’t mean lives.

A rogue. A phantom rogue. A haunted subclass for a life dictated by guilt. Rue Horineth.

[Note: I kind of want to work out a similar vibe for a character in PF2e, using the bookkeeper background, the rogue class, and possibly the exorcist or ghost hunter archetype?]

Character Sheet: Rue Horineth

Name: Rue Horineth

Race: Half Elf

Background: Functionary

Class/Level: Rogue 3 (Phantom)

Statistics: Strength 8 (-1), Dexterity 16 (+3), Constitution 14 (+2), Intelligence 12 (+1), Wisdom 14 (+2), Charisma 12 (+1)

Ideal: If death is going to be the result of your actions, then you should look at it. You should face it, face what you’ve done, and refuse to look away. Only when you can look your ghosts in the eye and admit what you’ve done to them will the scales be somewhat balanced.

Bond: I try to keep track of the survivors of the mine collapse. I wrote to some of them, afterwards, trying to apologise. Some of them, for reasons I will never understand, have written back. There’s a few towns I do frequent, as much as I can, and a few taverns who’ll keep letters for me.

Flaw: Guilt. I am haunted by the thousand cutbacks and demands and measures that my quotas put in place and which I never saw as anything but manipulating numbers on a sheet, I’m haunted by the mine collapse that resulted from them and the horrors that I saw on site that day, I’m literally haunted, at least I believe I am, by the spirits of the miners killed that day, and last but not least I am haunted by the lord and master that I (possibly?) murdered in my fit of madness and grief following the collapse. I don’t remember committing the murder, and it’s possible that the ghosts I’d seen from the corner of my eye for weeks beforehand possessed me to do the deed and get their vengeance, but it’s equally possible that I murdered him myself, and that I’m only telling myself I was possessed to distance myself, yet again, from the blood, not ink, that coats my hands.

Personality: Originally, Rue was a rather fussy and, shall we say, rigid personality, who liked tweaking and playing with things within very set boundaries. Numbers were her game, and she enjoyed, to the limited extent that she enjoyed much of anything, arranging things so that the numbers lined up and did pleasing things.

This personality has … changed, at least somewhat, as a result of horror, trauma and guilt. Her numbers, as a result of her narrow-minded focus and ignorance of the actual lives they were attached to, resulted in mass death in a mine collapse, and Rue believes herself to be quite literally haunted by those deaths. As well as the later murder that resulted from them. Several years on the run and drinking to try and drown out the ghosts have resulted in a more erratic and occasionally aggressive mien. And yet, despite that, Rue’s soul is orderly at heart. She still does her best to keep things, if not quite orderly, then at least well-arranged.

Description: Rue is, quite simply, the single most forgettable-looking person in creation. A slight, androgenous non-entity with sandy brown hair and a pair of spectacles, she was quite used to being seen as simply an adjunct or vehicle for the various ledgers and pieces of paper she carried around, a clipboard with some arms and legs and a surprisingly pleasant voice attached. Hard living and hard drinking in the years since have changed her appearance slightly, but not enough to draw any actual attention. It tends to be her behaviour that does that.

History: A reasonably well-educated and neat young woman with a talent for numbers, Rue eventually gained a position among the staff of a very wealthy lord whose lands happened to control several of the most profitable silver mines in the kingdom. Most profitable, and most dangerous. Not that Rue knew particularly much about that. Her job was to collate and tabulate and project numbers, and to inform her lord when those numbers were doing things that were pleasing, and when they were doing things that were less pleasing. And, importantly, to send correspondence to the sources of said numbers informing them when they were less than pleasing, and suggesting various means to make them more pleasing again. It was a job, it has to be said, that she did enjoy.

Until.

Every so often, the lord would go on an inspection of his various mines, to personally examine them and put the fear of, well, himself into the foremen, and also to be seen overseeing his work and the lifeblood of his lands. On one occasion, he took Rue and her numbers of the tour, in an effort to use her and her ledger as a blunt instrument to terrorise several of the more struggling mines into turning more profit. This was Rue’s first experience of the realities of the mines. Oh, not in them, she wasn’t going into the actual tunnels or anything, but it was her first seeing the people attached to her numbers, the conditions they lived and worked in on the surface, and the stretched, worried faces that her numbers were being used to bludgeon. All of which left a sour taste, yes, and perhaps some seeds of doubt, but it wasn’t until they reached a mine she had been corresponding with for some time, a mine she had advised, strenuously, that they needed to improve their numbers, that the lesson sank home permanently.

Because, in the middle of the inspection, and the harried, earnest explanations of all the measures they’d taken to cut expenditures, one of the tunnels in the mine collapsed, leading to an exodus for the surface and the knowledge that more than two dozen miners were trapped or dead below ground. While Rue was in shock, a tiny, forgettable figure with a book lost in the sea of suddenly moving bodies, bloodied bodies, as miners poured out onto the surface, she witnessed, up close and personal, the horrors her numbers had led to, and the callousness of the lord who immediately wished the problem ignored or taken elsewhere.

Rue stayed, while her lord left. She was even, to an extent, helpful, her organisational instinct useful even through her shock as triage took place and two separate rescue attempts were staged, and then abandoned. She stayed. She was there when twenty one lives were declared lost beyond reach. She was there as a mining camp mourned their lost compatriots.

She walked away, finally, haunted by the experience.

She did go back to work. She attempted, for nearly three months, to simply go back to work. But it became apparent that Rue had not walked out of that mining camp intact. And, possibly, that she had not walked out of that mining camp alone. She began to suffer notions. That there were figures out of the corner of her eye. That her ink, occasionally, would turn red-brown in her pens and her ledgers and on her hands. That something had come back with her. Something angry. Something that wanted the man that caused it all, that demanded it all, that dismissed it so casually afterwards, to suffer. And that wanted her, who had been his tool, to suffer also.

Two months and eighteen days after the mine collapse, Rue ‘woke up’ in her lord’s study with a body and a dagger on the floor, and her bloodied hands writing a neat summation in her ledger.

Was it the ghosts of the collapsed mine, who possessed her to wreak their vengeance? Or was it her, out of madness and guilt and rage, and she only blacked it out from the persistent weakness that would see her shy away, behind numbers and ink, and hide from the blood that coats her hands?

She ran. Whatever happened that morning, no one witnessed it. No one heard it. No one appeared to know, until the body was discovered later that day, that a man had died in that room, or that Rue was possibly responsible for it. She is a wanted woman, but she is also a forgettable woman, and not a single person in the lord’s household could describe her much beyond ‘mousy, female, with spectacles, sort of brownish?’. But he was a very wealthy man, and very wealthy people don’t take it well when one of their own is murdered. So Rue is a wanted woman.

And there is, she can’t help but think, when the alcohol doesn’t dent it fast enough, a particular sort of savagery about the fact that she is hunted for the one death she committed with her own hands, but no one bats an eye at the twenty one she murdered with her numbers.

And the ghosts, even still, keep following her. She feels them, their presence. Sometimes the ink in her well still runs reddish-brown. Sometimes things whisper in her ear. Sometimes they even help. Did she appease them with her murder? They’re certainly happy enough to help with more of it. But at least she’s trying to look now. To kill with her own hands. To acknowledge the blood. Not square it away, blots of ink on a page. At least … at least now she knows. At least now she looks.

Proficiencies & Languages:

Saving Throws: Dexterity, Intelligence

Skills: Deception, History, Insight, Intimidation, Investigation, Perception, Persuasion, Stealth

Armour/Weapons/Tools: light armour, simple weapons, rapiers, longswords, shortswords, hand crossbows, thieves tools, forgery kit

Languages: Common, Elvish, Dwarvish, Gnomish, Thieves Cant

Traits, Feats and Background/Class Features:

Race: Darkvision (60ft), Fey Ancestry (advantage on saves vs charmed, can’t be magically put to sleep), Skill Versatility (2 skills), Languages (Common, Elvish, extra)

Background: Professional Eye (able to gain information about the structure of organisations easily)

Phantom Rogue: Expertise (Stealth, Deception), Sneak Attack (2d6), Thieves Cant, Cunning Action (bonus action to dash/dodge/disengage), Whispers of the Dead (gain one skill/tool proficiency from the ghosts of the dead, lasts until you choose a different one), Wails from the Grave (proficiency bonus times per rest, when you land sneak attack on an enemy, you can roll half your sneak attack dice and deal the result in necrotic damage to another enemy within 30ft of the first)

Equipment: Leather armour, common clothes, rapier, 2 daggers, shortbow, 20 arrows, explorer’s pack, thieves tools, ink pen, bottle of ink, ledger, belt pouch

Ledger: The ledger that Rue carries is the ledger she was carrying the day of the mine inspection and collapse. There’s still white dust and something, a reddish-brown stain, ground into the leather cover of the book. Should it be examined, a person would see that roughly the first third of the ledger is neat and orderly, full of numbers in their proper rows, and analysis of said numbers might find the accounting of a generally profitable but starting to struggle endeavour. After that first block of pages, however, things change. There are several leaves missing, torn away, that reddish brown stain dotting the edges. And then, afterwards … a diary. Of sorts. The ledger is no longer used for its original purpose. Now it documents a mind beginning to bend, and then break, under the strain of guilt and some potentially supernatural happenings. And then, after a neatly blank page with only one thin, shaking sentence and a large reddish stain, it begins to, somewhat, become coherent again. A journal, a diary in truth, not of madness, but of the attempt to recover from madness.

#character concepts #d&d #rogues #paper pushers #guilt #pf2e

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anonymousewrites · 5 months

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Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Nine

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Nine: Healing Darkness

Summary: (Y/N) is experimented on by the Vians, and Gem proves her strength.

(Y/N) hung suspended in the air as the Vians stared at them with clinical disinterest.

“Lieutenant, please understand that if there was any other way to accomplish our purpose…” The Vian trailed off.

(Y/N) kept their gaze carefully calm. “Get on with it.”

The Vians raised their hands, and (Y/N) winced as pain rushed through them. They gritted their teeth and fought not to cry it. It was agony piercing their mind and body simultaneously, an assault on all their senses. They could feel their skin splitting to bleed and their mind pushing as much of the psychic attack away. (Y/N) could feel the torture in their very soul.

Spock worked stiffly on the Vians’ device as his mind fought not to focus on what might be happening to (Y/N). It didn’t help that Bones and Kirk were hovering behind him, worried for his own state. They knew how deeply he loved (Y/N) and how much it hurt him to know they were in pain, no matter how he hid it.

“What is the device, Spock?” asked Kirk, trying to help focus Spock.

“It is a control unit but not a control mechanism,” answered Spock shortly. “It is not even a mechanical device.”

“What exactly is it?” questioned Bones, helping Kirk keep Spock busy.

“This control is attuned to only one electrical pattern of energy—the pattern produced by the mental impulses of the person who possesses it,” explained Spock, mind drifting to (Y/N) and their psychic abilities. He squared his shoulders and continued. “It is activated solely by mental commands.”

“Can you adapt it, re-attune it to fit our brain pattern?” asked Kirk.

“I shall attempt to do so,” said Spock. To rescue my T’hy’la. “However, it is not possible to adjust the control to fit more than one pattern at a time. I am, of course, most familiar with my own pattern, so I will begin with that.” He didn’t ask for permission. He needed to work efficiently in order to get to (Y/N) as soon as possible.

Kirk patted his shoulder. “Do whatever you have to do to make it work, Spock.” He grimaced. “What disturbs me is why the Vians let us keep it.”

“Just another one of their experiments,” huffed Bones.

“They must have known we were capable of comprehending this control and making use of it,” acknowledged Spock.

“And that we would use it to escape,” said Kirk.

“The only logical assumption is that they wish to let us go,” said Spock.

“And they keep (Y/N)?” said Bones, narrowing his eyes.

Spock pursed his lips slightly and nodded. “Evidently, that is their intention.” But I will not allow that to happen.

Kirk turned to face Gem, who gazed at them all gently. Without (Y/N), Kirk had to rely on his instincts to understand Gem, and he hoped that she understood him as clearly as she understood her fellow empath.

“Somehow…you’re the crux,” said Kirk. “The focal point of all this.” He glanced at Spock and Bones. “She’s an empath like (L/N), and even before we got here, she was a prisoner. They chose (L/N) specifically for a reason. All of this has to be linked.”

“Indeed. The facts would indicate that she is essential for their purpose and are using (L/N), another empath, for their experiments for precisely that commonality,” said Spock. He disliked that the facts pointed that fact. It meant the Vians were using (Y/N) and their pain for their own gain, and Spock couldn’t think of anything worse. Especially since their mind—their beautiful, kind, brilliant mind—was in danger.

“But if there is a purpose, what is it?” asked Bones, glancing at Gem.

Kirk gently laid his hands on Gem’s shoulders and spoke to her. “Has all the pain and terror happened, or been made to happen, for you?” Unfortunately, if she had an answer, he could not understand it.

“Completed, Captain,” said Spock, standing and holding the device in his hands. “The adjustments are delicate. They may not survive more than even one use. However, there should be sufficient energy to take us to the Enterprise.” Spock looked at Kirk. “But it could bring us to (Y/N).” And he desperately needed to get to them.

Kirk smiled at him. “Then what are we waiting for? The best defense is a strong offense, and I intend to start offending.”

“Let’s go get your favorite officer,” said Bones.

Even Gem smiled and picked up (Y/N)’s communicator from where it had fallen and offered it to Spock.

“Aim for the lab,” said Kirk.

Spock didn’t need to be told twice. He pressed a button on the device, and the group disappeared in a burst of light.

Spock, Bones, Kirk, and Gem appeared in the lab and found (Y/N) still suspended in the air. Spock’s heart clenched as he saw their expression. The look in their eyes was that of exhaustion, and it was clear from the cuts and bruises on their body that they had been tortured. Gem covered her mouth as Spock quickly moved over to pull (Y/N) down. He cradled them to him as he broke the manacles holding them up. Spock carried (Y/N) to a table and laid them down. Bones was instantly beside him and scanning for an explanation of the injuries.

“T’hy’la?” asked Spock as Bones scanned them. (Y/N) furrowed their brow, recognizing Spock’s voice but too exhausted and pained to respond.

“Their pulse is almost gone,” murmured Bones. “There is severe heart damage. Signs of congestion in both lungs.” He grimaced. “And as for their mind…there’s no telling what’s happened to it.”

(Y/N) tried to speak, but Spock gently pushed them back down. He knew they needed to keep their energy to keeping themself alive.

“Don’t talk,” said Spock. “Just keep breathing, T’hy’la.” He was stiff, though, and he could see the look in Bones’s eyes.

Bones stood, and Spock and Kirk followed him. Bones cleared his throat and gazed at Spock, hating what he was about to say. “They’re dying, Spock. I don’t think there is anything I can do for them.”

The words hung in the air, and Spock was silent as Kirk and Bones looked at him worriedly.

“What can we do?” asked Spock. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel his self-control slipping away as the truth set in that (Y/N) was dying.

“We can make them comfortable and alleviate the pain,” said Bones.

(Y/N) coughed, and instantly, Spock was beside them, taking their hand into his. “I didn’t think I’d go this way,” they muttered, smiling weakly in an attempt to keep Spock’s spirits up. Their smile was interrupted by a sudden spasm of coughs again, and blood splattered the floor as they hacked.

“Breath, T’hy’la. Breath,” repeated Spock, unable to help (Y/N) in any way that would truly count.

“You’re so kind, dear…” (Y/N)’s eyes closed, and they fell unconscious as Spock held their hand.

“Can’t we do something?” whispered Kirk.

“We cannot.” Spock hated the words, but he understood the situation. His mind had already parsed every action he could take, and none of them would help (Y/N). He was losing them, and he couldn’t do anything. Spock’s heart was already tearing itself apart. Indeed, his heart would die with (Y/N).

Kirk’s eyes widened. “Wait…couldn’t Gem help them the way she helped me?”

“Yes, but it would risk her own death, and (Y/N) wouldn’t like that,” said Bones.

Spock nodded. As deeply as he wanted to help (Y/N), he wouldn’t betray their desires by harming another person.

“But it isn’t certain that she’d die, is it?” repeated Kirk.

“It is not,” admitted Spock.

Bones nodded. “She had an instinct of self-preservation at the beginning, but it’s possible she could help (Y/N). But we can’t be sure.”

“We just need her to give (L/N) enough strength to not die,” said Kirk. “Would that help her chances?”

“It would,” said Spock.

“Then let’s convince her,” said Kirk decidedly. He smiled at Spock. “We’ll save them. I promise.”

The group took a step, and the moment they did, the force field appeared around them and trapped them in place. Gem cowered to the side as she felt (Y/N)’s pain and the fears of the officers flooded over her. In another flash, the Vians appeared and gazed at her.

“No interference will be permitted,” said Vian One.

“She can save their life,” said Spock matter-of-factly.

“Let us help her to go to him,” said Kirk.

“She must not be urged or forced to take action,” said Vian Two. “All must proceed without interference.”

“The purpose that brought us here together…except the fulfillment of some need of yours?” spat Bones.

“We have but one need left in life and that is to see the completion of the final moment of our test,” said Vian One.

“Be patient,” said Vian Two.

“Patient?!” cried Bones.

“Our friend is dying!” snapped Kirk.

Spock’s eyes narrowed in a Vulcan expression of fury.

“Perhaps,” said Vian Two.

“What purpose can be served by (Y/N)’s death except to bring you pleasure?” said Spock, words clipped and curt. “Surely beings as advanced as yourselves know that your star system will soon be extinct. Your sun will nova.”

“We know,” said Vian One.

“Then you also know that the millions of inhabitants on its planets are doomed,” said Spock. (Y/N) would despise that. His heart clenched at the knowledge.

“That is why we are here,” said Vian One.

“This arena of death that you’ve devised for your pleasure—will it prevent this catastrophe?” snapped Kirk.

“No, it will not, but it may save Gem’s planet,” said Vian Two. “Of all the planets of Minara, we have the power to transport the inhabitants of only one to safety.”

“If Gem’s planet is the one that will be saved, we must make certain beyond any doubt whatsoever they are worthy of survival,” said Vian One.

“How will (Y/N)’s death serve this purpose?” questioned Spock, severely critical.

“Their death will not serve it, but her willingness to give her life for them will,” said Vian Two, looking at where Gem was gazing in fright at (Y/N)’s dying body.

“You were her teachers,” said Vian One.

“We were…? What could she possibly learn from us?” muttered Bones.

“Your will to survive,” said Vian One. “Your love of life. Your passion to know. The connection of empathy. They are recorded in her being. Her planet will be fortunate. Each of you was willing to give their life for the others. We must now find out whether that instinct has been transmitted to Gem.”

The lab shook suddenly as a tremor ran through the earth.

“Time grows short,” said Vian Two.

“You were correct, Captain,” said Spock, a bit bitterly beneath his Vulcan exterior. “Everything that has occurred here has been caused to happen by them. This has all been a great laboratory, and we have been the subjects of the test.”

“No. We only created the circumstances,” claimed Vian Two. “That was necessary.”

At a computer console, Gem suddenly rose. She was nervous and afraid, but she finally stood in the face of all the pain and confusion swirling around her.

“Your actions were spontaneous,” continued Vian One. “Everything that is truest and best in all species of beings has been revealed by you.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed. It had been revealed by them and by (Y/N), the other empath, who now lay dying because of their plans.

“Those are the qualities that make a civilization worthy to survive,” said Vian One, watching as Gem sat on the couch beside (Y/N)’s agonized body. “Behold.”

Everyone was silent as they watched Gem gaze at (Y/N) fearfully, nervously. And then she reached out and touched their hands. Instantly, pain arched through her, and she contorted uncomfortably. Still, she continued, running her hands to (Y/N)’s face and allowing their pain and injuries to pass to her. The empathic auras of both psychics blended into a pure energy that leapt through them.

The psychic connection was too much outright, and Gem flinched back, drawing her hands away fearfully. But then she steeled herself yet again and pressed onward, once again connecting to (Y/N)’s emotions and injuries as (Y/N)’s empathy naturally reached out to her as well. Their wounds faded and reappeared on Gem’s face before disappearing.

Gem began to weep silently as the pain overtook her. Even as (Y/N)’s eyes opened and their breaths grew stronger, Gem’s body began to give out on her. She nearly slumped over, but (Y/N) forced themself up and caught her.

“Stop…” (Y/N) forced the words out and glared at the Vians. “Let her stop.”

“She must prove she has the instinct to save her people,” said Vian One.

“I won’t let her die…for me.”

(Y/N) pushed Gem away, struggling due to their own body’s weakness, but Gem’s empathic injuries made it easier to force her away. Gem tried to reach out and force her empathy through them, but (Y/N)’s own empathy rejected Gem and instead pushed into Gem. Her eyes widened as she felt her own pain subsiding slightly as (Y/N) took on part of it. (Y/N) raised their golden eyes to look at the Vians challengingly.

“With our auras interacting like this, I can heal her. And every time she tries to sacrifice herself for me, I’ll just heal her in turn.” (Y/N) spoke clearly and calmly through their exhaustion. “So you either let her stop and accept that she is willing to sacrifice herself without her having to do it, or I ruin your experiment.”

Spock nearly (nearly) smiled. That was his t’hy’la, willing to fight to their last breath with every bit of strength they had to protect others. It was one of the many reasons he loved them. And it was one of the many reasons Spock had focused so clearly on escaping the force field. It drew energy from movements against it, and so, Spock had stopped resisting.

He slipped through effortlessly and was behind the Vians in an instant. Using his strength, Spock grabbed the device the Vians held and deactivated the force field to release Kirk and Bones. They ran up beside him, and all three stood between the Vians and the empaths behind them.

(Y/N) smiled. “Spock…” Knowing they were safe, they let go of Gem and let themself fall backwards in exhaustion as Gem did the same. Both were partially injured, partially healed, and wholly drained.

Spock knelt beside them as Kirk and Bones kept their eyes on the Vians. When he found a steady pulse, he gripped their forearm for a moment to tell them silently that he was glad they were alright. Indeed, he was beyond glad, he was as close as a Vulcan to get to ecstatic. Spock’s t’hy’la was alive, and that was all that mattered.

“Her instinct must be developed to the fullest,” said Vian Two, staring at them all evenly. “The test must be completed.”

“As (Y/N) said, it is complete,” said Spock. “Gem has earned the right of survival for her planet. She offered her life.”

“To offer is not proof enough,” said Vian One.

“She nearly died! She would have died if (Y/N) hadn’t rejected it!” cried Bones angrily.

“All of us here are willing to die for one another,” said Kirk. He narrowed his eyes. “But we are equally unwilling to let anyone sacrifice themselves outside of ourselves. You’ve lost the capacity to feel the emotions you brought Gem here to experience. You don’t understand what it is to live. Love and compassion are dead in you. You’re nothing but intellect.”

The Vians were silent and turned to each other slightly. The Starfleet officers were tense when they turned back after having a conversation without words.

“We accept your conclusion,” said Vian One. He extended a hand for the device Spock held.

Spock handed it over. That was all the acknowledgement they were going to get. And as Spock picked up (Y/N) and the light appeared around them to send them safely to the surface, Spock didn’t care for anything else.

(Y/N)’s eyes opened, and they reached out with their emotions to Gem. They felt her exhaustion and fright, and in a last act of goodbye, they sent a wave of comfort and calm over her. Gem would survive with her planet and learn more about connection and what it meant to have a heart full of life.

(Y/N) smiled.

When (Y/N)’s consciousness returned, they were lying on a cot in Sickbay. They groaned and raised their head tiredly.

“The Doctor was quite strict about you resting, T’hy’la,” said Spock, appearing beside them to guide them gently.

�� (Y/N) sat up and smiled. No matter how exhausted or pained they were, it was made better by Spock’s presence. “Spock…You’re alright!”

“It appears your actions convinced the Vians to allow both you and Gem to live, and therefore, her planet,” said Spock.

“I’m glad,” said (Y/N). “I couldn’t stand to let her hurt herself because of me.”

Spock nodded. He understood (Y/N)’s good heart. “You have quite strong stances on such things. However, I wish you would prioritize your own safety more.”

(Y/N) smiled. They knew it was Spock’s way of saying that he wanted them safe and unharmed. “I know. And don’t worry, I won’t go looking for chances to sacrifice myself.” They pressed two of their fingers to his.

“I would believe you if you didn’t insist on helping everyone you find.” Spock smiled slightly as he teased them, ducked his head, and kissed them.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

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octoberobserver · 10 months

Text

Salvation Lets Their Wings Unfold - Good Omens Fix-It Fic (1/2)

(Read on ao3)

Aziraphale. What is it you want?

And really, for once, the answer was simple.

~*~

“Here I thought I was the one who did the rescuing.”

My God was Anthony J. Crowley a sight for sore eyes.

It had been thirteen months, two weeks, five days, 47 minutes and 16 seconds since Aziraphale had last seen him, but it had felt like an eternity.

They had had much longer breaks from one another over their six millennia, true, but this time. This time felt different.

Don’t think about why, don’t think about why, don’t think—

His heart fluttered quite humanly in his chest as he drank in every inch of him. Here he was. His best friend in the entire history of existence. Finally. Standing motionless mere feet from him in the middle of Heaven, a lovely dark contrast to the empty white, with his fiery hair, golden eyes, and lithe form, surrounded by a circle of—

“Oh bugger,” he gasped as he realised why Crowley was standing so unnaturally still.

There, boxing him in on all sides—at his feet, hovering mid-air at waist height, eye level and above his head—lay dozens of small glass vases of holy water. Dangerously full and lined up like the transparent bars of a giant, floating cage.

Panicking, Aziraphale tried to race over to him only to abruptly slip, arms flailing as he narrowly avoided falling.

“Yeah,” Crowley grimaced as he struggled to right himself. “The entire floor is doused in holy water too. Save for this lovely 10x10 patch I’m standing in.”

Halting a safe distance, Aziraphale’s brain fired on all cylinders as he fought to come up with a plan.

Hmm. Occam’s Razor?

He waved a hand to simply miracle the vases away, only to predictably be denied.

“Miracle blocker,” Crowley gestured to a large, rectangular frame above their heads.

It was a thin, silvery-blue that resembled a laser beam from those human spy films that he had dragged him to once or twice. The one where the brunet actor did loads of running and jumping from helicopters and hanging from ceilings and the like.

My, my. Things have gotten very ostentatious in the last eighty years.

“Oh, fuck,” Aziraphale groused aloud, running a hand through his hair.

“Swearing in Heaven, Aziraphale? That’s gotta be sacrilege,” Crowley smirked before his whole body deflated with a sigh. “What are you doing here anyway? Your office nearby, is it?”

He sounded weary, too tired to be snarky in a way that sounded far too foreign to Aziraphale’s ears.

“I-I’m here for you, of course,” he retorted, ignoring the hurt seeping into his veins at his lacklustre demeanour.

“Right,” Crowley sniffed, his glasses-free eyes narrowed.

An awkward beat of silence hung over them as Aziraphale tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Okay. Let’s um, let’s try this, shall we?”

“Yep,” Crowley replied airly, popping the ‘p’. “Might as well.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, Aziraphale slowly reached out to one of the nearest vials, his fingers half an inch from touching it.

“Careful, ange—” Crowley cleared his throat, his gaze trailing the vial as Aziraphale managed to oh so gently push it out of the way, it floating a safe distance from either one of them now.

“Okay, so, no alarm bells at that,” he looked around them as if someone, somewhere, was about to jump out at any moment. “Let’s keep going.”

He worked slowly and methodically, deftly moving each and every vase several metres away from him, starting at his feet and working his way up.

“So, Metatron’s insane,” he informed him lightly if only to distract him.

Crowley snorted.

“Yeah, I kinda got that when he had me abducted and imprisoned for trying to save humans from an army of the dead.”

Aziraphale winced. The Second Coming had been…eventful thus far, to say the least. Even with all his suggestions and outreach and spirited optimism, it had all fallen rather on deaf ears. Metatron had a vision, as it were. A vision that Aziraphale vehemently opposed.

Crowley was right…

Shaking his head, he willed himself to focus. Freeing Crowley from this death trap was far more important than absolving himself of his guilt.

Gritting his teeth and steadying his hands, he began moving two vials hovering close to his thigh, only for his knuckle to accidentally bump against one.

They both gasped as the vial edged up dangerously close to Crowley’s hip. Aziraphale’s other hand veered out, clutching his hip bone tight and shielding him from it, it bouncing up against his ring finger instead, the tiniest droplet wetting his skin.

“H-Holy shit,” Crowley breathed shakily before chuckling nervously at his accidental pun.

“The holiest,” Aziraphale shot back, his heart in his throat as he very carefully pushed the vase away, his fingers brushing against the fabric of Crowley’s waistband.

He watched as Crowley’s throat worked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took as deep a breath as he could.

They didn’t need to breathe, celestial beings. But Aziraphale could understand the comfort of it and had indulged in it on more than one occasion himself.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think—

He breathed in.

“Nearly there,” he said quietly, forcing himself to remove his hand from his hip and carefully pushing away five vases that were floating near his collarbone with a sweep of his arm.

“Uh huh,” Crowley replied stiffly, his eyes slits as the little vessels of death bobbed away like rubber ducks in bathwater.

They were down to the last dozen now, most of them a ring around Crowley’s face and head like a macabre facsimile of a halo.

Steadying his hands, Aziraphale reached up, parting four vases (that blocked Crowley’s eyes, cheeks and jaw) like curtains. His stomach swooped when his face was finally fully visible for the first time in over four-hundred days.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

“Hi,” Crowley murmured, his gaze noticeably staring at some point over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Uh, not to rush you or anything, but I’m pretty sure Michael is going to pop up any second now and put a dent in our great escape plan.”

Aziraphale nodded, clearing his throat. “Right, right you are. Let me just…”

He leaned up on his tiptoes and swept the vials bouncing by Crowley’s hair and ear, the final three floating away to join the others.

A beat of silence draped over them as they avoided eye contact.

“Well, what now?” Crowley eventually asked as he outstretched his arms for likely the first time in several hours. “We can’t fly out of here. And the entire floor is soaked. Don’t suppose you have a mop and bucket on you, do you?”

Aziraphale glanced around the vast void, despite knowing it was fruitless. There was nothing. No material objects anywhere. As per usual. Just one of the many things he had tried to rectify in vain during his time here.

“Right, okay, right,” he said more to himself than Crowley, summoning every speck of his courage. “We’re just going to have to do this the human way.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up.

“‘The human way?’ Do you actually have a mop and buck—”

Before he could blink, Aziraphale swept his knees out from under him, scooping him up in his arms and holding him close to his chest.

“There we go,” he murmured, his lips mere inches from his cheek. “I’ve got you. Let’s get out of here.”

Ignoring the fluttering in his stomach as Crowley grumbled something under his breath (that sounded like ‘humiliating’) before reluctantly wrapping his arms around his neck, Aziraphale tightened his grip around his back and began carefully crossing the wide, open space.

He took slow, measured steps across the slippery floor, painfully aware of every inch of space where their bodies met. His heart, far too human after all these years, hammered in his chest, pounding in his ears in time with his pace as he tried to ignore that any slip-up (pun intended) would cause the destruction of his very favourite being in the entire universe.

So instead, Aziraphale focused on how he could feel little puffs of breath against his neck and Crowley’s fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt collar, no doubt wrinkling it but not caring in the slightest.

His stomach rolled as he was vividly reminded of the last time Crowley gripped the material of his jacket and pulled him in to kis—

His left foot slid ever so slightly forward, causing him to stumble.

Crowley squawked in fright, his fingers digging painfully into his shoulders.

“S-Sorry,” he gasped out, gritting his teeth in determination.

It felt like forever and a day to cross the clinically white void between the makeshift prison and Heaven’s lift back down to Earth. He kept his gaze trained dutifully ahead throughout, not trusting himself to look at Crowley while he held him closer than he ever had before.

Well. Except for that one time…

“Here we are,” he exhaled as he halted at the thankfully-dry lift entrance, gently placing Crowley down in front of it and watching as he straightened up and smoothed out in clothes, his eyes carefully adverted.

“They took my glasses,” he muttered darkly, still squinting in the harsh light. “And the stupid bloody miracle blocker is still on. Don’t suppose I can just shut my eyes and—”

Aziraphale reached into his breast pocket and held out a pair of shades for him to take, his own eyes carefully focused on a non-existent speck on the ultra-white floor.

A beat of silence followed.

Two.

Thre—

“You…” Crowley cleared his throat before gently taking the glasses out of his grip, his fingers brushing the back of his hand.

Aziraphale held his breath for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“Thank you, ange—uh,” Crowley slipped the glasses on, clearing his throat again. “Well, you know.”

“You’re welcome.”

With that, he pressed the lift button and waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel him watching him for a moment before he, too, faced the doors.

After what surely was eons, they finally opened, revealing, thankfully, an empty lift.

“Right, shall we?” Aziraphale gestured. “After you.”

Crowley shuffled in and leaned back against the railing, folding his arms. Once the doors closed with a soft snap, he turned to him, eyebrow arched.

“Does this seem a little too…easy to you?”

Aziraphale frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Crowley shrugged, brow furrowed.

“I dunno, it’s just…Metatron lured me all the way here—”

“I thought you said he captured you?”

Something crossed over Crowley’s face at that. Frustratingly, Aziraphale couldn’t read him like his favourite book this time.

“You say potato, I say potah—does anyone actually say ‘potahto?’ I’ve never once heard anyone—” he cut himself off with a half-shrug. “My point is…where is everybody? Why aren’t we being hunted down by furious angels all cross with us for ruining ‘The Great Plan’?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands, fidgeting.

“Well, um. That might be because I trapped most of them in a ring of hellfire until all this could be…resolved?”

Crowley’s jaw dropped.

“Angel, are you telling me you’ve declared war on Heaven?”

His stomach swooped at the sound of his beloved, long-missed nickname that Crowley didn’t seem to realise he had said.

“Well,” he swallowed down the hysterical feeling rising in his chest. “I sort of already did that when I used my Halo to attack Metatron and come find you, so,” he shrugged. “Potato. Potahto.”

The lift dinged, and its doors slid open before Crowley could do more than just gape at him.

“Come along,” he coaxed, though far too nervous to touch him again. “I–I have somewhat of a plan in place. Adam is holding down the fort when it comes to the Second Coming shenanigans. All we have to worry about now is—”

“Metatron,” Crowley finished just as Metatron himself appeared directly in front of them, standing at the doors of A.Z. Fell & Co.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #my fanfiction

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indigomarina · 23 days

Text

Hazbin OC x Canon Week Day 6 - Time Periods (Frosted Apple)

For @hazbinocxcanon

Gloria/Glacia is from this for anyone who wants to see more of her. (Time Period switches back and forth between before and after Lilith left but before the hotel)

Glacia is in the palace kitchen, cleaning Charlie's room while she was out on an errand. As she carefully sweeps the floor, Lucifer enters the room, his eyes immediately drawn to her. "I believe that's Charlie's job." Lucifer joked. "I know, Lucifer. But you know I love taking care of Charlie." Glacia said, smiling. Lucifer leans against the counter, watching her work with a fond expression. "You're so good with her, Gloria. She's lucky to have you in her life…and so am I." Lucifer said. Glacia looks up, a slight blush on her cheeks at the praise. "Oh, it's nothing special. I'm just doing my job." she said modestly. She turns back to her task, missing the lovestruck look on Lucifer's face as he continues to gaze at her.

It's family dinner night at the Morningstar palace, and the tension in the dining room is palpable. Lilith sits at one end of the table, picking at her food with a scowl. Lucifer is at the other end, trying to keep the conversation light and failing miserably. Charlie and Glacia sit in the middle, the former pushing her peas around her plate while the latter keeps shooting Lilith pointed looks. "Glacia, is there something you'd like to say to me? You've been staring daggers at me all evening." Lilith asked irritated. "Oh, no, Lilith. Just marveling at how…present you are tonight. It's not often we're graced with your presence at family dinners." Glacia said sarcastically. Lilith narrowed her eyes, "And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked. Glacia shrugged, "Oh, nothing. Just an observation." Lucifer clears his throat awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. So, Charlie, how was your day, my little apple blossom?" Charlie starts to answer, but Lilith cuts her off, her gaze still locked on Glacia. "You know, Glacia, if you have something to say about my role as a wife and mother, perhaps you should just come out and say it." Lilith said acidly. Glacia raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't dream of overstepping my bounds, Lilith. After all, I'm just the hired help…the one who's here every day, taking care of your daughter while you're off doing…whatever it is you do." Glacia said passive aggressively. Lilith's eyes flash with anger, and she leans forward, her voice low and dangerous. "And I'm sure that's all you're doing, isn't it? Just taking care of my daughter…and not trying to worm your way into my husband's heart?" Lilith hissed. Lucifer nearly chokes on his wine, his eyes wide with shock. "Lilith?! Gloria is a valued member of our household, nothing more!" Lucifer sputtered. But even as he says it, there's a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a hint of guilt that doesn't go unnoticed by Lilith. "Is it, Lucifer? Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you're awfully cozy with the help." Lilith said coldly. "I can assure you, Lilith, my relationship with Lucifer is strictly professional. I would never dream of coming between a married couple." Glacia retorted. But there's a hint of bitterness in her voice, a touch of longing that she can't quite hide. Lilith notices it too, her suspicions only growing. Lilith stood up abruptly, "You know what? I've lost my appetite. If you'll excuse me…" She stalks out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Lucifer sighs, rubbing his temples wearily. "Glacia, I'm sorry. She shouldn't have said those things." Lucifer apologized tiredly. "It's fine, Lucifer. Let's just…let's just focus on Charlie, shall we?" Glacia said quietly. She turns her attention to the little princess, trying to coax a smile out of her. But even as she does, her mind is racing with the implications of Lilith's words…and the truth she sees in Lucifer's eyes. From that night forward, the tension between Lilith and Glacia only grows, fueled by Lilith's jealousy and Glacia's quiet judgment…and the unspoken feelings that simmer just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

Flashback to shortly after Lilith's departure. Lucifer sits alone in his study, staring blankly at the fireplace, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. The room is dark, save for the flickering flames casting shadows on the walls. There's a soft knock at the door. "Lucifer? May I come in?" Glacia asked Lucifer doesn't respond, but Glacia enters anyway, her icy blue eyes filled with concern. She approaches him slowly, taking a seat beside him on the plush red sofa. "I just put Charlie to bed. She's asking for you again." Glacia told him softly. Lucifer sighed heavily, "I'm sorry, Glacia. I know I should be there for her, but I just…" He trails off, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't know how to face her, knowing her mother left us." Glacia reaches out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. Her touch is cool, but soothing, like a balm to his aching heart. "It's not your fault, Lucifer. Lilith made her choice, and it's her loss. " Gloria reassured, smiling sadly. "She's missing out on an incredible man and a wonderful father." Lucifer looks up at her, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with pain. But there's a spark of something else there too, a flicker of hope and longing. "You really think so?" Lucifer whispered. Glacia nodded firmly, "I know so. I've seen the way you are with Charlie, the love and devotion you have for her." She said, squeezing his arm gently. Lucifer's gaze softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He places his hand over hers, marveling at the contrast between her icy skin and his own warmth. "Thank you, Glacia. I don't know what I'd do without you." Lucifer murmured. Glacia smiled warmly, "You'll never have to find out. I'll always be here for you, Lucifer. For you and Charlie both." she said. They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. Lucifer's heart swells with a new emotion, a feeling he'd never experienced before, not even with Lilith. It's a warmth that spreads through his chest, a flutter in his stomach, a longing to be closer to the icy demoness beside him. 'Is this… love? Real, true love?' he thought to himself. He glances at Glacia, his eyes tracing the delicate features of her face. 'She's always been there for me, for Charlie. She's kind, and caring, and beautiful…' He swallows hard, a realization dawning on him. 'I think I'm falling for her.' Glacia notices his stare and blushes, a pretty shade of frost creeping across her cheeks. She clears her throat, standing up and smoothing her dress. "I should go, let you get some rest." Glacia said. She hesitates, then leans down, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Lucifer." She turns to leave, but Lucifer catches her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. He looks up at her, his eyes shining with a newfound adoration. "Stay. Please." Lucifer whispered. Glacia's breath catches, her heart skipping a beat at the tender look in his eyes. She nods, settling back down beside him, their hands still clasped together. "Always." Glacia whispered. The scene fades, the image of the two demons, once employer and employee, now on the cusp of something new and beautiful, forever burned into the tapestry of their lives. It's a moment that marks the beginning of a love story that will change the course of Hell's history, a love that will give rise to a new era of hope and redemption, embodied in the twins that will one day be born from their union.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #gloria forworth #glacia frostwraith #hazbin hotel lucifer x oc #lucifer x oc #lucifer x gloria #frosted apple #frostedapple #when hell freezes over #hazbin oc x canon #canon x oc #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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