#Idk; idk. I hope i'll keep sleeping so i can go out at least but i am really feeling hopeless and uuuh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lynnlovesthestars · 7 months

Text

Scars.

Pairing: Astarion x reader Genre and warnings: angst, lots of it, hurt barely any comfort, allusions to sexual assault, past trauma, graphic description of torture, kidnapping, blood, violence, set in act 3, mention of death. Notes: not proof read ngl, i wrote it after dreaming it, and i didnt even wanna read it again, i cried like a bitch cause it’s kinda like…. past experience projected? just yeah dont ask if im ok after writing this, the answer is no lmao... also just a side note since it’s the first time im posting on this profile, but english is not my first language so please be mindful about it. Edit 10/06/23: i finally went through it end edited it.. i hope i catched all the errors cause idk if i'll ever be strong enough to give it another read ahah

Getting so close to someone meant so much for Astarion, and the more he cared, the more new fears would swim through his brain.

Since you arrived in the lower city, and his bed was no longer cold at night, a new nightmare snuck in.

The idea that Cazador would be able to get to you, and weaponize you against him, made his cold blood run even colder. Several nights you woke up to a trembling and sweating Astarion, as he was begging for mercy. He never explained too much about these nightmares to you, just letting you know it was about Cazador again and again, but he left out the haunting possibility of you getting hurt because of him. On the other hand you believed it was because you were getting so close to the Szarr palace, and Cazador knew about it just as much as Astarion did.

It was the middle of the night when the sound of a broken glass stirred you awake. You looked around you, Astarion still deep into his meditating state, while the others were asleep as well, none of them reacted to the sound like you did. Maybe you just had a light sleep, you thought, and someone in the tavern dropped a few glasses or something. It was when hands gripped your wrists that you jolted up, looking behind you. It was too dark to see, and all you could spot were the deep red eyes, like Astarion's, though they lacked the warmth of his.

A shiver ran through your spine as you realized what was happening, but when you tried to call for the others, you realized how deep in shit you actually were: no sound would leave your lips, like you were silenced.

"There's no need to be afraid, Tav." A deep cold voice whispered so close to your ear. "They can't hear you".

The voice chuckled at your failed attempts to call for Astarion, Karlach or anyone, as tears were starting to pool at the edge of your eyes.

Another pair of hands took hold of Astarion, magical shackles fastened around his hands and feet, just as they did to yours, and then they started dragging you both away.

The deep voice spent the whole travel taunting you with stories of Cazador, how cold blooded he was, and just how much he enjoyed torturing his victims. From one point of view you were already accustomed with such stories about him, but from the other, the idea of Cazador getting hold of Astarion again, made your blood freeze again. You were not going to let Cazador hurt him again. You were set on the idea.

When you reached the corridors of Cazador's palace, the silencing spell finally wore off, though Astarion was still not moving. Terror flashed through your eyes as you wondered if they had already…

"What did you do to him?!" You breathed out as you tried so hard to keep your calm in front of the spawns that were dragging and pushing you through the dark hallways.

The spawn scoffed as he pushed through and through.

"Don't worry, he's not dead" You could feel his eyes rolling at the question, like it was some dumb question you should have known the answer to. "..yet" he added at last.

You couldn't stop your mouth from twitching, between the state of rage that was slowly building up, or the terror of them hurting Astarion.

"What's going on? Can i know that at least?" You wanted so bad to cast a spell on him, charming him into freeing you, but without the use of your hands, you were useless.

"Cazador wants to give you a warm welcome into Baldur's gate" He giggled, as the smell of old blood mixed with the sour taste of the bile threatening to spill from your lips, and you couldn't hold it anymore, and your feelings started spilling out.

You couldn't help then to try and get Astarion free at least. You wanted to shake those hands off of you, to wiggle out of the shackles that bound your magic, but no matter how much you tried, you were like set in stone, unable to do anything but move forward, shed tears, and talk. Or more specifically, beg.

Beg them to hurt you, instead of Astarion.

Beg them to keep you here, and let your star free.

Beg them to turn you if needed, but spare Astarion's life.

Anything, if it meant not hurting the man that stole your heart with a dagger to your throat.

Quickly you were tossed in a cage, adjacent to Astarion's, and locked in.

The shackles that bound your feet dissipated, as the cage started ascending upward.

It halted in front of an altar, you guessed, that directly faced into the chasm you ascended from. Other spawns, around twenty you were able to count, started taking seats around the edges, sitting all in religious silence on their knees.

Astarion was still passed out, cradled on the floor of the cage, both restraints still tightly bound to him.

"Please, please, please" You cried out as the last bit of your strength was going to be dedicated towards trying to get Astarion free, far away from this place. "Let Astarion go, i beg you" You repeated your plea again, as you saw all those spawns stir from their seats, they wanted to turn their heads, to face whoever was foolish enough to beg Cazador for mercy, to trade spots with Astarion.

Everyone in that room knew what was going to happen, he was going to show them what happens when you disobey, when you run away thinking you can escape him. Instead you were so foolish and blinded by love, that you wanted to take Astarion's place, unaware of the extent that Cazador would go to. Yet you didn't stop, you kept begging and begging until a voice, the voice, echoed through the altar's walls.

"Tsk you just gave me a wonderful idea" the man hummed as his scepter started glowing, and Astarion started stirring awake, he looked around him, his tired eyes quickly widening as the reality around him had set in his mind.

"Let her go, you son of a bitch" Astarion growled as he stood up so quick, and gripped at the iron bars separating him from Cazador.

"Touch her and I swear I'll spill your guts right here" He spit out of the cage, a symbolic spit cause you were too far away to reach him.

"My, my, our dear Astarion has forgotten all the manners" He cooed as his lips smacked together, his voice so honeyed it was bringing you to the verge of vomit.

You wanted to reassure Astarion, let him know that you were going to do your best to free him, that you were both going to be out of there alive soon, but could you? Could you lie so much to the man you loved? Words were stuck on your tongue, making your throat drier and drier.

You guessed you zoned out for a few seconds as your head was flooded with thoughts, missing the hate Astarion was throwing at his master.

"Ah sweet Astarion, your dear Tav has given us a great idea though, it would be a shame to let it go to waste" He hummed, as the staff light up again, the lock on your cage fell down the chasm, as your trembling body was slowly being dragged out of the cage by magic.

"No, no, no, no" Astarion reprated as his eyes locked on you, falling on the long streaks of tears running down your cheeks as you tried to offer him a sad smile, your lips muttering an "it's going to be okay" while his body was about to give in to desperation, loud sobs echoed from him, as your heart broke at his sight: he was barely standing up now, his hand gripped tight as he screamed through the hall to let you go, to not hurt you, to stop. "This is just a nightmare" He fell on his knees as you were slowly dropped on the cold floor, barely keeping your head up as you realized you were still in his shirt, the one he loved on you.

"Oh dear Astarion" Cazador cooed again as he kneeled in front of you, his cold fingers getting ahold of your chin, to tilt your head towards his. "This is not a nightmare, this is real" His words were like cold daggers through your chests, you knew that whatever was going to happen, it was not going to be fun.

Before you could say anything, Cazador's hand slipped to your waist pulling on the shirt as you flinched away, disgusted by the touch of the vampire in front of you.

But he didn't care, he was swift in removing it, leaving you bare in front of dozens of eyes.

You could hear the rattling coming from Astarion's cage as he attempted to break free over and over again while his chest was about to explode.

He didn't have the right to undress you in front of everyone, he didn't have the right to touch you at all, not when he prayed every night to have the chance to see you bare, to hold you. His thoughts were swinging back and forth between desperation and deep seethed rage.

"My, my I can see why our Astarion has fallen for this little creature" Cazador's compliment almost made you retch as you stumbled back a little. "She even puts up a fight" He chuckled as he lunged forward just enough to grip at your wrist and whipping you on your feet.

Every inch of your skin was visible to everyone, from the battle scars you got through the years of adventuring, to the teeth marks on your neck, down to the stretchmarks that lived on your hips.

A shiver ran through your spine as Cazador’s fingers grazed over the two marks on your neck. “Mh, your blood seems to be sweet enough, right Astarion?” His cruel words hit Astarion through the chest. He was one word away from a breakdown as he couldn’t do anything but witness his nightmares coming alive, not his Tav, not when he would be so careful to cradle you and comfort you to his chest whenever he'd drink from you.

Whatever he was screaming was incomprehensible to you, as all you could feel was the way Cazador gripped and pushed you towards a plush chair, where he sat with legs wide open before dragging you on his lap. You felt so nauseous as he bent you towards the arm rest, making you face the cold grey floor.

You wanted to hear the taunting explanation of what he was going to do, but all the sounds were drowned by the thrumming of your chest and the desperation in your own thoughts, repeating over and over that you were going to find a way out, trying to convince your brain to shut off and dissociate as you were there, like you were just in a nightmare, and you’d be awake soon.

All you could gather was few words like “knife”, “mark”, reminder”, and then “Astarion”. He was torturing him through you, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The worst part in this, was that you were the one that gave him the idea, cause you wanted him to free Astarion, and instead he let it all out on you instead than on your Aster, as a punishment for you both. You cause you were so careless to offer yourself though you didn't know the risk, and Astarion for being reckless and disobedient. Right there, as the dagger pierced your spine, you regretted not whispering Astarion how much you loved him, while you were tight against his chest, when the world around you was asleep, and you had a corner of peace. You always knew what you felt for him, from that moment on the beach, at the shipwreck, and yet you just wanted to tell him in the right moment. But what was the right moment? You might never know, as a broken scream broke through your lips, salty tears flowing free, so much that you thought for a moment that you might have died of dehydration, if the knife wasn’t going to do it first.

He carved and carved over your back, intelligible lines and symbols as you finally understood what Astarion meant when he told you how he got his scars. How gut wrenching the pain was as he couldn’t move, and how Cazador didn't allow a break, and retraced the lines that were wobbly if he moved too much.

“You know?” Cazador asked, as everyone’s eyes were on what he thought was a work of art, your carved skin, while Astarion’s plea echoed over and over in the room. “Our sweet Astarion used to whine just like you” He hummed. “Just a pathetic little child” He spit out like venom as you could barely breathe out few words along the lines of “you disgusting monster”, though you were not sure you actually let them out until, Cazador’s laugh filled every corner of the disgraced altar. Your tadpole writhed as another line was cut at the height of your hips, before, Cazador started retracing the lines and pulling away the skin, exposing the deepest layers of your flesh, the pain was so deep your vision blurred, and you were so close to passing out right there.

You don’t know how long you sat there, you slipped between pain and numbness as Cazador slapped you back to consciousness whenever you'd slip away, you had to endure the agonizing scarring and remember every second of it. He decorated with bloody lines almost all over your body.

You didn’t know what was worse between laying on the raw scars of your back, seeing your own skin being peeled away or the cries and sobs coming from the man you loved. You had to find a way, you couldn’t give up, you couldn’t allow this monster to walk the earth again. You had to do it for Astarion.

You were not sure when he dropped you on the floor, your body barely able to hold itself together as finally you could look around you and towards Astarion. Every face around you was stoic, like they were used to witnessing such spectacle, and they knew what was going to happen next.

You wanted to reach for Astarion, to take him away from the revolting scene in front of his eyes, you wanted to take away his pain, give him the last bit of hope you had, but when you were about to link your tadpole to his to do it, you hesitated. Connecting your minds meant he would feel how dirty, wretched and lost you felt, along with the gut wrenching pain ebbing through your body.

You could barely make out the words Cazador said as his nails dig through your skin again, even when he pulled your eyes to his you could barely read his lips as he said words you just wanted to cancel from your brain. A broken sob regurgitated from your throat as he was going to take the last thing you had. You just had to let your brain go, right? To ignore the teeth dipping in your throat and the putrid hands slithering down your skin, taking away enough blood to barely keep you alive as he took you in front of everyone. It was no longer just physical pain, it was the way you felt your own body being stolen away and used in way no one ever dared before.

Numbness was all that was left of you after a while, of your barely beating heart while more hands crawled their way through places were you never wanted anyone to touch, then, in that moment, you realized you were free of your shackles, because you were so drained and broken that you could barely do anything. You could barely by aware of your surroundings, of how many bodies were preying on you, as you could barely manage to move inches.

Your vision was all but clear, you could make out the outline of Cazador as he was buttoning up his blouse again. Then you could see Astarion, still caged, struggling to stay sane as he wanted just to take you away from the monsters abusing of you, abusing of the fact that you were powerless in front of them. His eyes were a bloodshot, he was so hurt that he resorted to supplicate for mercy, to let you go and just kill him, whatever that could stop the agonizing pain. You didn’t have much strength left, maybe if you put all of yourself, you could muster two spells before passing out again.

It took all you had to even raise your hand towards the lock that sealed Astarion’s crate, you mustered all your willpower to cast that knock spell, just enough to let the damn lock fall down. Astarion instantly turned to you, to your teary form still being touched by unworthy creatures, noticing how your hand barely held up, as you tried to cast one more spell, just for him, before another broken scream echoed in the room, bouncing from wall to wall till it reached Astarion's core. The kind of scream that should never be drawn by someone, nevertheless by you.

The radiant dagger materialized in his hands, and for a moment he didn’t notice it as he was fixated on the broken look on your face, encouraging him to end his master, although you suffered right there, paces away. “I love you” You mutter barely, you wanted to let him know before you could draw your last breath, then everything blurred.

Everything was muffled, you couldn’t see what was going on around you, you just felt all the presences around you disappear, while Astarion’s voice was crystal clear through the excruciating pain.

"I'll kill you, then I'll bring you back, and kill you again.” He shoved Cazador on the floor, just like he did with you, to remind him how he hurt you, how he used you, how he touched the only person he should have never laid hands on. “I’ll do it over and over again until you have suffered a tenth of what you did to her. Then I'm going to gut you one more time, and paint this shithole with your putrid blood. The halls of this place will reek with your disgusting blood, to let the whole city be aware of your death and from which the hands it came from” His hands were shaky, but he had to do it. For him, but mainly for you. All that was left of him was you, and nothing could ever be enough to vindicate you.

The shiny dagger stabbed over and over again through Cazador’s chest, while Astarion cursed him, every thrust of the dagger through the heart earned a new mocking insult, a new reminder of what he did, while all of Astarion's anger was channeled into annihilating him.

You just laid there, all you could do was listen to the grunts and the hate slipping from your lover’s lips as he dipped that dagger in the gutted body. You didn’t even realized when he dropped the disemboweled body on the marble, you weren’t even sure you could breathe, at that point.

A pair of shaking arms wrapped around your drained body, Astarion’s shirt was used again to cover your skin, as he picked you up, trying to be as delicate as possible. His salty tears fell over your body as he carried away from the nauseating scene, you frail body barely shivering, and your chest barely moving. He was muttering something to you, but everything sounded foreign at your hear.

He had to move quickly, find Shadowheart or Halsin, or anyone to heal you, to keep you alive. It was in this moment that he wished he could beg a deity to keep you alive, but he didn’t trust anyone else to tend you. He needed to rush outside of this place and get you to safety.

He didn’t expect to see everyone outside the locked ballroom door, as they fumbled to open the door. They were taken by surprise at the sight of Astarion cradling you to his chest, all covered in blood, while his eyes were a pit of pain and tears.

Shadowheart didn’t hesitate to heal you right there before they all guided you towards the tavern you've been resting. They all offered to carry you, to make Astarion breathe a bit while on your way back there, but he refused. “I can’t..” He mumbled. “I don’t want..” His voice was just a whisper, broken. “I need” He wanted to break down again with you in his arms, but he had to lay you down first, to let you rest in a warm bed, he had to bring you to safety again, away from anyone that could pose any harm to you. He needed to see that smile again, cause no power flowing through his veins could have replaced you. He failed you once, he was not going to do it again. You saved him, twice, he had to do it just once for you. He had to thank you, and he had to tell you how much he loved you.

#astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion angst #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion romance #vault: lynn ☆#lynn: updates☆

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 6 months

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Hello, it me :D

Idk how you want to structure this or how it's gonna sound when I try to type out what's in my brain rn, I do know that I want this to be a full hc tho

Ok. So. I've seen some art here & there of some of the M6 with their own children; mostly just babies but there are a couple older kids in the mix as well. This is where things in my head get weird so bear with me:

I'm thinking this ask could go three ways (I also don't know if Nadia & Portia will be able to fit in to this ask but it is what it is), and you can do just one of the options or all of them, I'll let you choose:

A. M6 reacting to MC telling them they're pregnant

B. M6 & MC mid-pregnancy preparing for the baby

Or C. M6 getting to hold their kid for the first time

Hopefully this makes sense I think it provides an opportunity for incredible wholesomeness whatever you decide :)

The Arcana HCs: M6 during MC's pregnancy

~ ohoho, now this, this is the kind of prompt that makes my heart sing! @themushroomgoesyeet I hope you're ready because I'm doing all three of those suggestions in here, just you wait >:3 - brainrot ~

Other baby-related hcs: M6 when someone hands them a baby

The M6 when the child they have with you is an exact carbon copy of them

-- for the purpose of these headcanons and because I write for a gender-neutral reader, MC is pregnant with a baby that is equal parts their and their LI's DNA. This could have happened the traditional way (depending on how you envision your MC or if you headcanon your LI as trans), or simply by magical means. For my fellow trans men, seahorse dads are still dads! And to my fellow AO3 readers, mpreg is possible. Always. O.O --

Julian

For the first time in his life, he was well and truly speechless

And delighted. In fact, his speechlessness was because of the unforeseen tidal wave of joy that crashed over him as soon as you told him and it knocked all the air out of his lungs

Pulling you into an embrace as soon as he can move again and trembling with excitement: "Really? You're going to have my baby? We're going to be parents? I'm going to be a father? Haha!"

If he was bad about hovering before he's terrible about it now

Detailed research on all potential issues (which leads to him having crippling spirals over all the ways this could go wrong)

Auntie Pasha and Great-Grandma Mazelinka are here for it and so overwhelmingly supportive. It's hard to resist Julian's regular suggestions of bed rest because they make it so feasible

Mazelinka's soup was heavenly for your morning sickness

Julian collected at least three different remedies for every single pregnancy symptom you had and filled multiple notebooks with doctor's observations. Even down to tracking your sleep cycle

He also called in several favors to make sure that at least two other doctors would be available leading up to your due date - one for you and one for the baby. (he still insisted on being the main one)

He managed the birth impressively well - years of medical expertise kicked in and he went full "doctor" mode, keeping a cool head and open communication and anticipating every need

Until he held his child for the first time and had to sit down because his knees gave out. He has a whole new reason to live well

Asra

You know that panicked blushy face they make? Yeah, that was it

You briefly mistook it for horror - you know he likes surprises, but this is something else - but it was really his own panic at suddenly being plunged into a whole new world of emotion and instincts

Their first motion was to reach out and place their hand over your heart to confirm it through your bond, if only because they couldn't get their words to work and they needed that grounding touch

Once he's collected himself, he's over the moon. Is it terrifying? Sure, but it's also going to be the adventure of a lifetime, and it means building a new future and family with you! As parents!

They want to tell Aisha and Salim about it as soon as you're comfortable because they've done this before, they can help. And also because they’re going to be grandparents

Covers you with enchantments to keep you and the baby safe and happy and keeps a growing list of the most unhinged baby names to make you laugh. Faust likes to gently squeeze your bump

Makes every pregnancy craving you have and tries it with you, no matter how weird. He's got three years of practice being your caregiver and his patience for the mood swings is unending

Spends an hour every night with an ear against your baby bump, listening to them grow and thrive

Offers you every type of pain relief they can find. If not for your sake, then for theirs, because seeing you hurt makes them panic

Holds you the whole way through childbirth, no matter how messy, and stays so reassuring and supportive

Scared to hold the baby at first because he's so shaky from emotions. Won't put it down once he does

Nadia

The news is so unexpected that she just can't believe it at first

As in, her brain is genuinely incapable of immediately processing what you've just told her, so she just finishes her task before running it through her head a second time before it sinks in

The loudest gasp you've ever heard, you see her drop her teacup as her hands fly to cover her mouth and she stares at you in surprise

So happy. So, so, so very happy

She was never going to pressure you into having children. Between her driven nature and her ongoing loneliness, she'd resigned herself to never being a mother after marrying Lucio

But oh my! What a wonderful surprise! There's so much to do, she's slightly worried that nine months isn't going to be enough time

She sends for multiple physicians and invites several of them to live in the Palace through the pregnancy, and begins the interview process for your baby's pediatrician as well. She wants you healthy

Has the time of her life decorating the baby's future room and ends up getting so emotional looking at all the tiny clothes and shoes

Refuses to let you sleep by yourself. She doesn't want you to feel limited on a day-to-day basis at all, but she doesn't like you being alone for too long, especially during such quiet and precious hours

Prefers to hold off on giving her family any news or updates until she's had at least a few days to let it sink it. Each update she does send provokes a tidal wave of letters and advice and offers, not to mention Grandpa Namar's tear-stained letters of excitement

Has to hide sobs when she holds her child and announces its name

Muriel

Straight up disassociates. Not due to any fault of yours, it's just a lot. Especially given his own context for parenting (or lack thereof)

"Muriel, I'm pregnant." soul gets yoinked through the stratosphere

You know him well enough to expect him to need a moment, so you're not surprised when he shakily nods, takes a deep breath, and tells you he'll be back before dark before walking off into the trees

Deeply apologetic once he gets back because in hindsight ghosting you might not have been the most appropriate response

He's happy, if not deeply anxious, but he gets more and more excited with every pregnancy update

He makes the baby's crib himself, seeking out the tree with the best wood, chopping it up, designing and cutting the pieces, carving and sanding and painting them with the utmost care

As your due date gets closer he starts reverting to an old habit of his, waking up several times through the night with a need to keep watch for any dangers or discomforts and make sure you're warm

You wake up to this sometimes, with him sitting quietly next to you in bed, one large hand resting protectively on your belly, a quiet smile on his face as he stares at the cradle on the other side of the room and counts every tiny kick the baby lands on his warm palm

He doesn't hesitate to tell Asra, Nadia, (and yes, Julian) about your pregnancy, because he knows they'll be able to help you in ways he can't. Watching you in pain during birth is almost traumatic for him

Doesn't say a word when you hand him his baby, just looks back and forth between you and them in delight and awestruck joy

Portia

Screams. Legitimate, jaw dropped, lung-deep screaming

Yes it's because she's excited!!! You're pregnant! That's amazing!!

Funnily enough, she doesn't bring up telling anybody else until several weeks have gone by or until you suggest it. She's used to keeping secrets and this is so special she's still finding words for it

She's also more familiar with what pregnancy can look like, and she doesn't want to make any big announcements with you too early

Borderline obsessive about making sure that you're properly fed and cared for. She keeps every snack stocked, gives you massages every night, asks you about any symptoms and offers relief

She ends up inviting everyone over for dinner so you two can break the news to them together, and if one Devorak wasn't loud and emotional enough, two of them are almost too much for the roof

Mazelinka is quick to offer her services, whether that be bringing soup, taking you two (three?!) to Nevivon so the grandmas can help, grabbing one of the grandmas and bringing them here, etc

Pepi develops a new habit of bringing you stolen fish at least once a day to make sure your growing kitten is properly nourished. the smell doesn't help your morning sickness but you appreciate it

Portia cries every time she sits down to work on another onesie or baby blanket or cloth diaper, which is several times a day

When it's time for you to give birth, she holds your hands as tightly as you hold hers and nearly knocks a doctor out of the way to catch the baby

Full-on happy sobbing when she holds them. Gets jealous anytime someone besides you gets to hold them longer than her

Lucio

Assumes you're joking until you tell him otherwise because what

It's not that he's against it, but realistically speaking he knows that one of him is already a lot to handle. And you're cooking another??

Once you convince him, his exuberant yells startle flocks of birds from the treetops in a half-mile radius. Speaking of trees ...

You two are journeymen. Where are you going to settle down?

You end up picking a spot close enough to Vesuvia for your old friends to be able to help, in a town where you know you'll have a fresh start. Buying a cottage is hard when you're used to a palace

Lucio occasionally remembers his mother's comments about how her pregnancy with him made the Red Plague seem like a summer cold, and then he panics about how much pain you must be in

Sits bolt-upright in bed four months in to your pregnancy in a cold sweat because it just hit him that your belly bump is actually an entire tiny human that's half him and half you and it's miraculous

Starts talking to your bump almost constantly after that

Everything from what the dogs are doing, to the right way to start a fire, to the best types of cookies - he's telling it all to the bump

Does he know, logically, that your baby isn't likely to be born missing an arm because of his amputation? Yes. Does he still have an irrational fear of that happening? Also yes.

Has such a hard time controlling his frustration during the birth when you're in pain and there's nothing he can do about it

Wraps his golden arm in a baby blanket and doesn't care about the mess the first time he holds them and presses a kiss to their head

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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moralesmilesanhour · 7 months

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💆🏾🍃here i wanted to request a miles fang fic🌚ive enver done this before so idk but just a short/medium fic or scenarios of miles w fangs nd reader being obsessed w them but not in like a freaky way i. a like “omg theyre so cool/pretty way” if that makes sense😭

You got it! (You didn't specify so I made bro a vampire hope that's ok)

"So, to recap: it's a yes on the blood, no on the sparkles, and you can walk into sign-less buildings by yourself," you listed off. You rose to a sitting position on Miles' neatly-made bed. "What about the sun?"

"Y/N, be serious right now. You saw me at the corner store yesterday morning."

"I'm just covering all my bases! You coulda just been wearing really good sunscreen this whole time."

Miles snorted as he lay sprawled out next to you. "Yeah, alright. No on the sunlight. Anything else--Aye, aye, relax!"

He frantically slapped your hand away as you tried to reach for his face. "Fuck is you doin'?"

"I'm tryna see if you got fangs!"

"How I'mma drink niggas' blood without fangs? Let's think, mamas--ow!"

He recoiled when you gave him a good flick on his forehead.

"Lose the attitude," you chastised. "Now, let's see 'em!"

Miles stuck out his lips into a childish pout. "Ask nicely."

"Fine. May I please see your canines?"

"Thank you."

Miles used his pinky to lift his upper lip on the left side, as if showing off a pair of grills. Instead, he revealed a pearly, almost blue-white canine tooth. It was at least a centimeter longer than that of the average human, curving downwards and sharpening to a deadly point. You could see why he mumbled so much; they looked damn near impossible to hide.

"And all four of them are that long?" you marveled.

He removed his finger and nodded, showing them off in an awkward-looking smile.

"They're gorgeous."

His smile dropped almost immediately and he gave you a weird look. "Whatever that means."

"It means what I said," you lightly smacked his arm, "they're very nice-looking."

"Sound like you finna steal 'em while I'm sleeping," Miles laughed.

You grinned and reassured him, "Chill out, I'm just bein' a future dentist. I get excited about nice teeth."

"Oh yeah? Then when you actually become one in a few years, I'm only going to you."

Miles took your hand and squeezed it. His palm was ice-cold.

"Thanks. If you ever need a fang pulled, I'll be sure to keep it for studying."

"You're so weird."

Send Halloween Prompts!

#earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #requests #moralesanhour

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jacks347 · 2 months

Text

Would the listeners survive a zombie apocalypse? (In my slightly sarcastic, completely subjective opinion)

Idk man, I'm bored and got time to kill in church so here we are

(Tagging this is going to be a nightmare-)

(Edit from the future: It was. It really was.)

Redacted:

For sake of my sanity this isn't all the listeners, just the ones I'm still actively keeping up with (I'll get to the others...eventually)

Angel - Solid maybe. Out of all the unempowereds, definitely has one of the highest chances. But it would take an extreme streak of luck.

Babe - No...I'm sorry but no. Would be like one of those extras that you see eaten in the first minute of a horror movie.

Sweetheart - Probably. Can a zombie detect someone invisible? Sweetheart is smart enough to survive, they'll be fine.

Darlin - Yes if they have Sam to hold them back from sacrificing themself for the "greater good". No if they're left completely to their own devices.

Lovely - Depends on the version. Pre Adam, no. Pre Inversion, maybe? Post Inversion, definitely. Hard to die to a zombie apocalypse when you're a) already dead and b) literally immortal.

Treasure - Okay, I know Treasure is the newest addition to the roster and we haven't had a lot of time to see their personality develop but as of now? Yeah...no.

Freelancer - They'll do it on -3 hours of sleep simply out of spite. Freelancer has been through enough, they're just tired. They'd survive but begrudgingly.

Honey - Honey would survive out of spite and spite alone. Would definitely have that baseball bat from The Walking Dead.

GBA:

Guardian - ...you're kidding, right?

Darling - Yeah...no. Soft bby would never.

Faithful - Possibly? That stubborn attitude and medical abilities would help but has absolutely no combat training so ehhhhh, it depends.

Paradise - If she can break a pirate crew out of space Fort Knox and wrangle Yargwynn, a zombie apocalypse is pocket change. Paradise would own an apocalypse.

Partner - I swear I'll stop bullying the new additions. Once they're worth not bullying. The man made the zombie apocalypse, I guess we're gonna find out if he survives won't we? I'm not hopeful though.

Escaped:

Asset - No one in ATW even knows how to do basic math, the only way any of them survive is through sheer force of which they might actually be successful. So maybe.

Raven - Yes but she would have a mental breakdown about it so she would not be the same on the other side.

Slash - ...seriously?

Guest - Hm, a trained vampire slayer in a zombie apocalypse, I wonder what would happen! Obviously she'd be fine.

Intern - Entirely dependent on who they're trying to keep alive. If it's just them, probably. If it's them and the rest of their merry band of misfits, no.

Future Wife - You're funny. RIP my girl, no one will know her husband broke the fuckin timeline for some pancakes.

Agent Schäfer - Once the shock and panic wore off, yeah she'd be fine. Hope she doesn't get eaten during that freeze.

("Where's Lass?" When Desmond returns for more than five minutes, come talk to me about listening to Blue Infinity)

Nomad:

Pack Mom - Definitely. We already know she's a deadly shot and wasn't afraid to shoot a living person, a dead one would be fine. She will be perfectly fine.

Lass - Yes. Not with as much overwhelming power as Pack Mom but she'd get through it. I mean...she has formal sword training, I think she'd do okay.

Little One - Probably not. Out of the original Frosthaven romances, they are the least likely to survive. They'd put up a good fight though.

Lamb - Yes and no. Physically, she'd be just fine. Mentally, I don't know if she could do it. Slipping back into that killer mindset might just drag her under.

Chester's mate - Probably not. Out of all the new Frosthaven romances, they're the most average. They'd try though.

Harlow's roommate - No. I love them but no. Not our slightly stupid boat captain.

Caltraxus' TA - Yes and they'd hate it every step of the way. Would survive completely hungover if that was an option.

The Doctor - Probably? If not by her own merit then definitely through someone else cause everyone needs a doctor in the apocalypse.

Beau's mate - Yes. Literally fought a bear once. She will be just fine.

(The lack of fandom names for Nomad's listeners saddens me greatly. And also makes my work so much harder)

This was so dumb but I had fun so :P

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twitteringthings · 2 months

Text

Who the Heck is This Izumi Chick?!

Besides just being the club mama….

First off, she seems like a kind person and as Kamiya stated, definitely not suited to be wrapped up in the Yakuza-girly lifestyle. I'm going to throw out a few speculations as to what her relationship to Doumeki could be and her importance to the plot. These ideas are based off of theories I have read and my own thoughts/interpretations :)

Doumeki's confidant/friend This does seem out of character for Doumeki but I'll list it as a possibility anyway. Maybe they're just friends and he confides in her about emotional things, his past?. Maybe she knows about everything that happened four years ago. She seems to know things about Doumeki that other characters don't. Like how she seemed confused when Kamiya referred to Doumeki as her boyfriend in Ch. 54. Not to mention that Kamiya says "He's always going over to your house" now I know D doesn't like sex that much, lol - at least with people who aren't Y. And he did mention he usually takes care of that himself. Think about it, if they were just sleeping together or in a relationship, there wouldn't be so much ambiguity surrounding their association with each other - Sensei has ofc done this purposefully! She wouldn't be acting so "weird" about it, if you ask me. Maybe she knows Aoi or helps D keep tabs on his family and gets money to them. idk idk idk, ahhhh! OOOO maybe when after kamiya left and izumi repeated to herself his words, "Not suited, huh." It was something she heard before from someone - D maybe? what could this meannn. What other reason could D have for visiting her all of the time? Do you think she's seen him smile? That would be adorable if it was a friendship. It would definitely be nice, but this is my theory that I think is the most off and doesn't fit the plot/characters. womp womp.

Secret tattoo Artist Not very likely Imo, I feel like a person would have come to the house (I'm not familiar with where irezumi is normally done in the yakuza) to do D's tattoo or he would go to the same person who did Tsukanawa's. I'm not sure if he got the tattoo after he saved Niki - I'm pretty sure he did - but maybe Tsukanawa and the others suggested he get one after his noble feat? Like an emblem. Maybe Tsukanawa offered to pay for it? Also, I saw a post on here that said D's tattoo didn't look finished yet, but I disagree. If that were so, I think Y would have mentioned it or something - or maybe it would be more obvious to the reader that it is still in progress. Y just says, "he went and got a back tattoo" and not something like "The idiot's got a half-baked tattoo on his back." AND if she did tattoos, I'm sure it wouldn't be a secret to everyone else. AND if the reason D was over her apartment all of the time was because of his tattoo that wouldn't make sense because you need time to heal between sessions and his back would be protected with something if he was.

Sex Buddy (turned friend) I could definitely see D attempting to get over Y in some way over the 4 years they were apart - albeit clinging onto hope that one day - somehow - they would reconnect. And during that period, I can imagine him experimenting with another person to "get over" Y (as if) or just to explore his own sexuality in a healthy way - especially as he matured and formed his own identity separate from Y. Maybe it started as sex, and they became friends? I still don't know though, because he is so terrified of being a rapist like his dad with Y, so it's also hard to imagine him - pardon my language - dominating a woman like that. Especially if what happened with Aoi still lingers in his mind. Even though Y tried to comfort him I'm sure he still feels the guilt. Saving Niki may have helped his guilt though - finally being able to successfully protect someone he cares for. ALSO, D denies having a woman when asked by Tsukanawa several times, but when Y assumes he has a woman during their encounter in Ch. 46 he confirms that he does. which is it Doumeki? Sounds suspicious to me. And it's not as if he is too shy to tell his boss that he has a woman, I mean he told Tsukanawa about his jerking off habits soooo.... I think he said this to make Y jealous - he was even looking away from Y with his head hung down as he answered the question...

Plot Driver Assuming my first theory to be true: Maybe something happens with the yakuza plot to where D is in a really bad situation (about the money he stole, Misumi, involvement with Y, disobeying Tsukanawa, current group drama, etc) and Izumi is the one to offer up crucial information about his past that ends up helping him?

A query... In Ch. 46 Izumi asks Kamiya not to spread around rumors of her and D's assumed relationship status because it might cause trouble. My question is why? What kind of trouble? Why would them dating be an issue? Thoughts?

Please share your thoughts also! And be well people <3

Disclaimer: These are purely my own ideas/theories/opinions, and they are all most likely incorrect lol. I'm just having fun speculating about what's to come :D

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #doumeki x yashiro #yaoi bl #doumeki chikara #yashiro #saezuru fandom #saezuru predictions #saezuru #manga #yaoi #yaoi manga #yoneda kou #saezuru feels #yaoi recommendation #saezuru spoilers #saezuru funny

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blueberrypancakesworld · 9 months

Note

Hiii idk if u are taking requests or requests for Lords Of Chaos so if u aren’t feel free to ignore this!!

I was wondering if you could do a Faust x Fem!reader where they meet for the first time at a party and Faust thinks she’s beautiful but is to scared to talk to her. But she also thinks he’s handsome and completely ignores Vargs attempts to flirt with her and keeps asking him questions about faust before finally getting up to go talk to him. the ending can be all fluffy and cute with them like falling in love or something. :))

Dark Party with an Happy End

warning : poor flirting form Varg, alcohol, kiss, fluff

masterlist

Info : Hi dear @tilldeathripsusapart I'm sorry that you waited so long but I haven't had my request open until now. I hope you enjoy reading it and have fun. Everybody else too :)

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was actually an evening like any other. A weekend in which she had nothing planned and only watched the television with its infinitely boring channels. The silence of the room was only broken by the TV and the occasional sipping of the beer bottle.

But there wasn't really anything to do in this small town. ,,It's been a long night," she said as she sighed and laid her head on the soft pillows. She didn't even have a boyfriend to lean on, or a kiss to give, or even a bed to sleep with and pass the time. But she didn't have any of that.

So she could sleep just as well and actually wanted to follow this plan when her phone suddenly rang.Grumbling as she sat up from her comfortable position, she mumbled at the phone, ,,Coming, coming" as she picked up the receiver.

As soon as she picked it up she heard her friend Ann's voice. ,,Y/n come outside in ten minutes and I'll pick you up. Some wannabe musician is having a house party!" she heard her friend's voice shouting into the receiver, otherwise the background noise could only be heard. ,,Is your car exploding?" she asked, but by then Ann had already hung up and could hear the beep from the phone. Blinking apathetically and running her hand over her face, she looked back and forth between her television and her wardrobe.

Should she just stay here and sleep or would she get up and get some free booze and have a good time? Not even finishing the thought, she hung up the phone and hurried to the wardrobe. She just grabbed a pair of fishnet tights and a top with a short skirt to have as much freedom as possible while dancing.

Because she knew that when Ann meant ten, she usually meant only eight. She put on her clothes and hurried to her little make-up mirror, putting black lipstick on her lips.

Before she brought out her eyes with mascara and that had to be enough when she heard the horn of the car. ,,Coming!" she shouted, even though she knew Ann wouldn't hear her. She ran down the stairs without falling and grabbed her boots before jumping out of the house. ,,Finally, come on Euroynmous is there too" the blonde said and drove off just as the door closed.

After hurrying to the door, she smiled slightly and playfully slapped her friend on the shoulder. ,,Oh, Euonymous is there? Is the band there too?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in interest as she turned on the radio and smirked to herself. She saw the upset look on her friend's face as she muttered something under her breath before they both smirked.

A friendship with a rough tone in rough boring times nothing new and nothing old. ,,The black circle is there too if you want to find a cute little demon" Ann said as they pulled into the car park and both got out.

She could feel the anticipation building up in her, she liked the band had been to a few of the concerts and liked the whole group behind them. They were all a little strange, but the weirder the better, she thought.

As they walked together into the house, which had been taken over, they saw only moments later that at least the second vase had already been broken. ,,Ann! Come here!" shouted one with long dark hair who was definitely drunk when he recognised the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

Y/n knew the group, she had never spent days or weeks with them, but she had spent a few hours with them. But this time there seemed to be new people.

She recognised Euronymous, Dead, Necrobutcher and Hellhammer but the others were new. The leader of the group gave his girlfriend a kiss before putting an arm around her and pulling her close. ,,Y/n I'm glad you could come, make yourself comfortable," she heard him say in his voice, even though drunk, a charm she liked.

,,Thanks, I'll have a look around" she replied and saw a guy with a pentagram chain coming towards her. ,,Hi, I'm Occultus, I'll show you where the good stuff is," she heard him call, even though he was clearly drunk, he seemed to be more into it than he looked.

She was about to leave with her new acquaintance when she saw one stand out in the group. He was taller than the others not necessarily lanky he also had long dark hair. His dark eyes seemed to scan the room and yet she felt and saw him looking at her again and again.

There was something like fascination in his gaze and he hastily looked away when she gave him a small smile. One of the new ones, went through her mind as she walked with Occultus, who was babbling to her about some political views.

But she couldn't get this handsome new man out of her mind. He had something of a fallen angel about him, at least she found the idea that the forbidden was more beautiful than the real thing somehow pretty.

He was pretty, the long hair framing his face, the dark eyes silently observing everything, and yet the little blush on his cheeks that might have come from the alcohol or something else.

Who knows what they were feeling at that moment or whether it was just the alcohol. ,,So we're-" Occultus was about to begin, propping himself up on a nearby chair, when someone came up behind him.

One of the newcomers put his hand down on Occultus' shoulder, who seemed to almost collapse. The newcomer gave the chain-bearer a warning look and she thought she saw Occultus flinch.

Before he gave her a quick smile and went back to the others. Something had definitely happened between the two or Occultus would not have been so afraid and respectful of the newcomer.

Watching all this with an uncertain look she turned away from the new guy and started to mix a drink. ,,Hey sweetie, I see you know Mayhem?" he asked and she just nodded, ignoring the nickname and reaching for a beer from the fridge when she realised there was no such thing as a ,,drink and mix".

She ignored the look Varg gave her, she didn't like that kind of guy. It was clear to her what he wanted, it was clear that he was arrogant and probably wrongly so. Besides, he was not as cute as the stranger.

She saw him already open his mouth to say something when she said, ,,Who's the new tall one in your group?" before she reached past him and opened the fridge.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise and stepped aside to avoid being hit by the fridge door, which she slammed shut. ,,The long guy? That's Faust, he's quite a freak, only talks about death and watches horror films," he said and she could almost see something like unease flashing in his gaze. Both parties must have done things they weren't proud of, she thought.

As she walked past him and took the bottle opener to open both beers. ,,Hey sweetie tell me-" Varg started again and was interrupted by two beer mats and a flying beer opener that landed clattering in the sink as she walked out of the room. I wasn't here for you, sweetie, she thought for a moment, annoyed and hating the nickname he had given her.

Almost fleeing back to the group, she was saddened to see that Faust was not standing with the group. Looking around she was pleased to find the man she was looking for sitting on a couch watching a film.

Walking over to him, she saw him look from the television to her and smile at her hastily. ,,Hi," she heard him say before he slid to the side and made room for her. She shoved the beer into his hand and felt their fingertips touch. ,,Thank you," he said hastily and took a big sip of the drink.

She realised the film was Evil Dead and couldn't hide her grin. ,,Evil Dead a good one" she said and saw him looking at her, seemingly thinking about what to say. ,,The blood just makes it better and better," he muttered and she saw the redness still on his cheeks.

She nodded in agreement, seeing how this pleased him as he seemed to have finally found a kindred spirit. Nervous is even sweeter she thought and took a sip of the drink before turning to him. ,,Can I braid your hair?" she asked simply hoping he would say yes.

You had to make the best of what you had. Surprise showed in Faust's eyes as he looked around uncertainly. Before he nodded and slid closer to her mumbling a ,,Go on". Before she let her fingers wander through his hair and began to braid it. While they talked more and more about the film, horror and music.

Listening to him talk on and on about horror films, she heard him hum a few songs and yet the redness never left his cheeks. She was pleased that he gradually showed more trust and affection. That he overcame his fear and felt more and more comfortable.

At the end of the evening she not only braided his hair but they also exchanged numbers and he invited her to a film evening. ,,I'm looking forward to it," she said before she heard the sound of Ann's car.

Before she wrapped Faust in a hasty hug and gave him a final kiss on the cheek. ,,See you around, Faust!" she called happily before jumping into Ann's car and driving them both home. But the first movie date with Faust was the reward of the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @icarus-star

#lords of chaos 2018 #lords of chaos faust #lords of chaos faust x reader #valter skarsgård #reader is female #fluff #kiss

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cactusringed · 9 days

Text

Etho and Bdubs' meeting | Political Intrigue AU

Putting it in a tumblr post because idk if I can commit to a full fic that'll be posted on ao3 yet so I'll share this way

Word Count: 3,715

Content Warnings: Depictions of a staged suicide

The blood moon illuminates the night sky, painting the surrounding clouds crimson. Looking up through the glass roof of the observatory tower, Bdubs knows that today is to be the day he dies.

Even before his vision, he’d known, somehow, that the blood moon would signify his end. He was always attracted to it like a moth to a flame. Except moths aren’t aware — Bdubs doesn’t think — of the fate awaiting them once their delicate wings brush against the harbinger destined to extinguish their life. Bdubs is. He is, he believes, the most painfully aware one could be about their demise. The blood moon calls to him the way a jailer would a prisoner on death row, marching him through that last corridor towards his end.

“No, wait, I think a siren would be a more accurate metaphor,” Bdubs muses out loud, rubbing at his scruffy stubble. He should’ve shaved. Perhaps he still can. No. He’s meant to look this way, he knows. Images of his destiny flash in his mind and Bdubs screws his eyes shut in hopes to chase them away.

It doesn’t work. He takes one shaky breath, then another. His lungs ache. When he opens his eyes again, his vision blurs with tears that he quickly blinks away.

After spending over a year aware of the grisly details of his own death, one would expect Bdubs to have come to peace with it. He certainly thought he did. Yet here he is, staring up at the moonlit sky for what he knows is the very last time. Fighting back not only tears but primal fear that screams at him to rattle the bars of the cage fate has sealed him in. His heart gallops in his chest with such force he swears he feels its echoes against his ribcage, all the way up to his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he forces his gaze downwards, to the workshop he’s built in the main observatory room. To his very last painting:

A landscape - that of the country of Oblivion. He’d hoped to finish it before his death, but he supposes the least he can do is bring it to an acceptable state. He wonders how much his work will sell for. He wonders if he can ask his murderer to burn it all before they leave.

Bdubs picks up his brushes and palette, the oil paints still wet from his last session, and works at the landscape. He paints a tree — thin, spindly, and grey — only to cover it almost immediately. He refines the cliff-face, as he’s done dozens of times, overworking the surface into a mush of dull colors and clashing textures before he throws his equipment to the ground in frustration.

His mind’s eye always had trouble focusing on the picture he wanted to bring to life, the shapes blurring together even after spending hours studying references of Obliviate scenery — but now, with the promise of death hanging over his head, he finds it downright impossible to not only focus but also keep his every muscle from shaking. Come on, he wants to tell himself, it’s not like you’re going up on stage to give a speech. It’s just the day of your own murder. Relax.

Bdubs worries he might puke. Or cry. That would be worse.

Another couple of breaths in and out. Shakier than before. He’s restless, to the point he knows he won’t be able to sleep no matter how late it gets, but also won’t be able to get anything useful done. What is there to do that would be useful mere hours, or potentially minutes, before his death? He could draft a will. He doesn’t know how to write one. Maybe he should’ve learned before he had to go and die, but to be entirely fair to him… no, he did know it was going to happen tonight for some time now. Ever since he knew of the blood moon. It just didn’t feel real enough to warrant any preparation, somehow.

Bdubs looks at the unfinished landscape. The sculk that snakes through every crack of the cliff-face. It’s too flat, despite how hard he’s worked at it. It resembles the sketches and croquis he’s studied in tomes, but not the feeling they elicit in him. That infinite darkness that threatens to suck him in. He reaches for his paints, but pauses. Gazes up, instead. Up and around himself, searching for that blackness, for that feeling.

It must be here. They must be here. Whoever Oblivion sent to end him. Bdubs isn’t stupid — he knows they’ve been following him for a while. Studying his every move, habits, his entourage. Yet he’s never been able to feel the weight of their presence. Not a shadow has ever been out of place. No matter how hard Bdubs has looked, how much he tossed his room upside down. How much he’s raised his voice.

But he’s got to keep trying.

“Assassin,” Bdubs speaks in the Obliviate tongue, struggling with the soft and flat tones it forces upon him. “Show yourself. I know you’re here. You have to be. You’re here to kill me, are you not? So, show yourself. Let me see my own murderer before I die.”

Bdubs waits. He waits for what feels like a full minute, only to be met with complete, suffocating silence. His lip twitches downwards, but he keeps his chin high, and continues to speak in a register he knows to be far more proper than he prefers to speak in his native Celesti tongue. He should’ve worked harder on his lessons.

“I’m unarmed. I don’t deal in violence. I just… wish to see your face. Then you can kill me,” Bdubs walks slowly, carefully, to the oak desk covered in loose paper and canvas pressed against one of the walls. His fingers trace over his sketchbook. He lets out a soft laugh, peering back up at the ceiling, looking out for any movement overhead. “I bet it’s not often you get to speak with your victim. I can offer you some critique. Because I have to say, the method you have planned for me… Well, it’s a bit too quiet. It’s like….” he frowns, unable to think of the right Obliviate word. “It’s boring,” he settles on the Celesti equivalent, before he switches back to the assassin’s tongue. “It will make my retainers suspect foul.”

Still nothing but silence, no matter how long Bdubs waits. A long sigh, as he lets go of held breath. He takes his sketchbook, worn at the spine, and holds it to his chest. He turns, raises a foot, intends to take a step — only to let out a roar of terror as he’s suddenly faced with a tall figure come out of nowhere.

Bdubs stumbles back, and as quickly as he began screaming he slaps both hands over his mouth to silence himself, letting the sketchbook fall open by his feet. His back hits the edge of his desk, and he waits as the figure stands still as a statue. One, two — his eyes dart to the door, listening for guards, servants, anyone who might have heard the commotion. Only when he’s certain no one intends to ruin his moment does he drop his hands down, letting out a high pitched giggle.

“You scared the life outta me!” he exclaims in Celesti. “I mean,” he corrects himself in quiet Obliviate: “You sca—”

The figure holds up a hand, and Bdubs stills, before letting out another, softer chuckle.

“Right. You understand Celesti. There’s no need to translate,” He insists on continuing in Obliviate, but it does save him some time.

Another stretch of silence. The figure lets their hand drop. They remain still, and though it fills the air with an awkwardness that would normally make Bdubs want to keep yapping — he instead finds himself transfixed by their presence.

Slowly, as to ensure they don’t take it as an offensive move, Bdubs leans down to pick up his sketchbook. He opens it towards the end, and meets with a sketch of himself laid in bed, arms stretched out at his sides, small rivulets of blood dripping down. The blood moon shining in the window. He’s transfixed by it for just a moment, his throat closing up.

He flips the page. More angles of his dead body. A few sketches of gloved hands taking hold of his wrist. The fingers are slender, long — one might call them delicate, even as they hold a blade to Bdubs’ wrist.

A study of how the blood flows. It pearls at the edge of the cut at first. There’s a few attempts at getting it quite right. The amount of blood that begins to trickle, then pour out. The way it soaks Bdubs’ sheets.

Then, finally, the main object of interest: The assassin. His sketches become more abundant, but less clear, as he focuses on them. Looking up at the figure standing in front of him, then down at his sketches, he’s happy to note he got their build right: Tall, slender, but not too much. Loose clothes that likely hide solid muscles. That’s another thing he realises he portrayed perfectly: Their outfit. The long, dark cloak hiding the near entirety of their figure. The large hood obscuring their head alongside a scarf wrapped around the bottom half of their face. The only part that remains uncovered is their eyes and a few strands of silver hair — easy enough to remember and portray, one would think. Yet it always remained blank both in Bdubs’ memory and sketches.

The surface of some of the pages have been rubbed raw from his eraser. Some have frustrated scribbles all over the assassin’s face. Others have just been left blank. It’s endlessly frustrating, and if he doesn’t get to do anything else before he dies, he hopes to at least fix this.

“Can I…?” Bdubs reaches for the assassin’s scarf — only for them to suddenly jerk back before his fingers can even brush against the fabric.

It’s the first movement he’s seen from them, a proof they’re not just a hallucination. It makes him jump, and he tenses in expectation of a blow that never comes. The assassin just adjusts their scarf securely on their face before peering down at Bdubs’ sketchbook. They point. A silent question hangs in the air.

Bdubs frowns. “Can you use your words?”

“No.”

Their voice is deep, surprisingly so. It’s also rough around the edges — the way one’s voice sounds after waking up in the morning. And a bit muffled by the scarf.

“Very clever,” Bdubs grins, reaching to shove playfully at the assassin. They move away. “It does mean you can speak though, so— Oh, how do you say in Obliviate… you know, like… gotcha? Do you guys have a word for gotcha?”

Bdubs swears he hears a quiet, near inaudible snicker from the other.

“You can switch to Celesti. I’d rather you did, actually,” they say in perfect Celesti. Not a trace of an accent. Not even an intonation amiss, despite how much more melodic Celesti is compared to the flatness of Obliviate. Bdubs could mistake him for a native if he didn’t know better, and if it wasn’t for the paleness of his face.

“Right, yeah, I was tryna impress you, but turns out I’m real rusty. But hey, I was doing well enough, yeah? Since you came down from your little hidey hole?”

Silence. They’re still pointing.

“...So, uh, what’d you want my sketchbook for?”

The silence stretches, until the assassin seemingly remembers it’s their turn to speak. “I want to see.”

Bdubs raises a brow. “Not the most eloquent sort, are ya?”

They blink.

“Just gimme a second, okay?”

Bdubs reaches for one of his charcoal pencils, and holds the book open against his chest. He peeks up at the assassin, then down at the page, lightly finishing up one of his attempts at a portrait. He sticks out his tongue as he adds the outline of lips he can barely see through the scarf, refines the shape of their face, and draws the long, white eyelashes caressing scarred skin. The hint of sculk Bdubs can barely see, pulsing like veins burrowing deep within the assassin’s skin. He goes at it for a moment, before he finally gives up with a dissatisfied huff.

“It’s not as pretty as you are in real life,” he holds the sketchbook out to the assassin. “But have a looksie, if you want. It’s kind of… Ah, well, you can keep it as a souvenir after you’ve killed me! I’m sure in a few decades you’ll be able to resell it for some pretty money. I mean, can you imagine?” Bdubs gestures when the assassin takes hold of the book. “‘The prophet prince’s last drawings.’ People will fight for it!”

The assassin doesn’t seem to find it quite as funny as Bdubs does. They stare at him blankly, jaw slack, before seemingly remembering to look down at the pages, ignoring Bdubs’ grin as they do. He doesn’t let it get him down. Instead he watches their piercing grey eyes dance across the pages. He doesn’t think he did them justice. He wishes he had more time. They genuinely are beautiful.

Their fingers run over the sketches. As they study the depictions of themselves knocking Bdubs unconscious and slitting his wrist, Bdubs can’t help but hyperfocus on their hands. They’re like a pianist’s. He wonders if they play instruments. Are Obliviate assassins allowed to partake in hobbies? Arts?

“I wasn’t sent by anyone,” their voice force Bdubs out of his imaginings. They stop on a page depicting them hopping out of Bdubs’ bedroom through the window and disappearing into the darkness of the night. It was a bit of a challenging pose to figure out. Bdubs is proud of that sketch. He doesn’t think it’s what they’re admiring. “My actions were planned by myself, in opposition to my orders. You are dangerous, but no one seems to see that.”

Bdubs swallows heavily. A strange calm had settled over him, ever since the assassin revealed themselves — but their saying that turns his blood to ice. He’s suddenly aware of every inch of his body, and the way they scream at him to run, or hide, or fight — something. Instead, he stays frozen as the assassin circles him, takes in the room as if they hadn’t been spying on him for stars know how long.

“You showing me this,” they tap their fingers on the pages. “It made me realise something I hadn’t considered before.”

Bdubs opens his mouth to speak, but the assassin continues before he gets even a sound out:

“If I choose not to kill you tonight. What happens with your vision?”

“I…” Bdubs looks down at his dead body laid on the pages. It’s hard to speak. He should stop staring. He can’t. “I don’t… know. Every single thing I’ve predicted has come true, no matter how hard I’ve worked to stop them. I don’t know what happens if… if they don’t. I think it would just push away the inevitable. If you don’t kill me today, then you’ll do it on the next blood moon. Or the one after. It’s not the first blood moon I’ve seen since the vision, after all. I could just be wrong on the exact date. Both of us could be.”

The assassin shakes their head. “Even if the date isn’t right, I won’t do it like this,” they gesture at the book. “So it still wouldn’t be true. Besides, you knew this blood moon was to be the one. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve never called out to me the way you have tonight. You knew it was today.”

“I just… felt it, somehow. I tend to, with my visions. Even if nothing indicates a specific date within the vision itself, I just… feel it, when it’s about to happen,” he shrugs. “With normal prophecies — you know, the one they do all those fancy rituals for? With those, it’s kind of a fifty-fifty as to whether they’ll actually happen. But mine have always, always come true, no matter what. I’m just too good at this divination thing!” He laughs. It comes out wrong. Stilted. Tearful.

The assassin watches Bdubs pace.

Bdubs’ eyes find the image of the assassin’s bloodied blade, placed in his limp hand.

“...I don’t wanna die,” he finally admits, quietly. A few tears roll their ways down his cheeks. “I just know — well, I don’t know… what’s meant to, to happen. If you stop it, I mean. I don’t know what happens if you don’t kill me. If I— If I wake up, tomorrow. I don’t know what… what would happen. I’m not meant to. It— It won’t. It won’t happen. You know?” he looks up, his lips trembling uncontrollably.

He feels like a damn child.

The assassin is obviously uncomfortable. Their previously relaxed posture grows suddenly tense. Their shoulders are almost all the way to where Bdubs assumes their ears would be. They reach into their coat and Bdubs gasps, sharply. His eyes squeeze shut. He expects the stab of a knife. For all of it to have been a ruse. A way to finally end their conversation and get to the very reason they came here.

But nothing comes.

Bdubs takes one, two — up to three shaky, hiccuping breaths, before he opens his eyes again and looks up. What he sees is not a knife, but instead a handkerchief. It’s held in front of him awkwardly, the assassin staring at him unblinking. Bdubs hesitates, before he takes it and wipes the tears off his face. Except the very act of compassion coming from what should be his assassin makes his tears double, and Bdubs sobs embarrassingly against the cloth.

“We’ll find out what happens when a vision of yours does not come to fruition, then. Because I won’t kill you. You won’t die by my hand, prince Bdubs.”

Their voice is so gentle, now. Bdubs nearly chokes on air as he tries to calm himself. As he tries to listen. Take it in.

“I was only sent here because we found out about your vision. Before you worry — none within your court knows. We’ve only inferred it through our surveillance. I will report back, explain what happened. They’ll send another spy to continue monitoring your safety. Oblivion never wanted you dead, so you won’t have to be afraid of them. And it means… you’ll know: There’s a way to stop your visions.”

Before Bdubs can say anything, before he can thank them, they turn away. They take a step to leave. Bdubs’ tears stop in an instant, and he reaches for them. For their cloak. He pulls them back towards him, and wraps his arms around them in a tight embrace, feels the air escape from their lungs as he squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, voice only shaking a little as he clings to the assassin’s clothes. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you. I don’t even know your name, I—”

“My— My name’s not important.” The assassin’s voice is strained, as if in pain. They pat Bdubs’ hand in what he assumes is a gentle attempt to pry him off. He doesn’t let go quite yet. “We won’t meet again. Just… try to find a way to stop your visions. If anything, for your own sake.”

Bdubs shakes his head. “I won’t let you leave,” he declares. “Not after you saved my life. Not after you did… did this. You were sent to protect me, right? So you must be pretty good! Then, I want you to stay. I can write to Oblivion, get them to keep you here. Then you can help me stop the visions from coming true again. Yeah?”

He finally pulls away so he can walk around the assassin and face them, sniffing as he watches them shake their head.

“I’m not a protector. I’m an assassin. The only reason I was sent here was to neutralise your murderer. Since I technically have, there’s no reason for me to stay. Especially now that I’ve revealed myself to you. It… goes against almost every tenets of the code,” they sigh, reaching to pinch the bridge of their nose. “It just can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

“... Will they hurt you? For… you know,” Bdubs gestures. Could the price of his life be his would-be assassin’s death? Does he want to know? “...If not your full name, can you give me… I dunno, a nickname, the first letter — anything? I don’t wanna forget the person who broke my curse. Please? Then I’ll let you leave. And I’ll promise not to speak a word of this. To anyone.”

The other furrows their brow, and studies Bdubs’ face. They shake their head again, and brush Bdubs’ hands off themselves. “Slab,” they finally offer. Bdubs recognises it: A clan name. A… very prominent one. “And what happens to me isn’t something for you to worry about. I’m… uh… Sorry. For causing you stress.”

There’s an awkward pause, then, before they take a step back. Bdubs lets them. He watches them as they climb back up to the rafters, open a window, and leave without a trace.

“...Slab…” Bdubs looks down at his sketchbook, hugs it to his chest. Clouds creep closer to the blood moon, obscuring its glow. The observatory is plunged in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering candles on Bdubs’ desk.

He’s alive. His vision has come and gone.

He sits at his desk. Opens his sketchbook, picks up a pen, and begins sketching.

He draws until the sun rises. A feverish attempt to burn the Slab assassin’s image in his head. Draws until one of his retainers knocks on the door and scolds him for not showing up at breakfast. Until they drag him out of the observatory, force him to breathe the fresh air outside.

He’s free of the burn in his lungs as he’s smothered into unconsciousness, of the blade splitting his arms open.

He’s alive.

#pltclau #writings

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gadriezmannsgirl · 1 month

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May i request,where in reader and grizi are laying in bed just talking about your day and just adoring each other! Idk I just had a really soft spot for him rn ! Anywho thank you so much for your writing! I hope you have a wonderful day💙

Grizi fic because it's his birthday! Can you believe that gorgeous man is 33 now? I can't, he's just a baby

Lovers -A.G7

Summary: You're each other's safe space

You rolled into your bedroom, laying yourself into the door sighing and kicking off your shoes.

"Bonjour, princesse" (Hello, princess) You heard his voice and inmediately smiled before lifting your gaze, his deep blue eyes made you feel safe and his smile took off the weight of the day away.

"Hola" You said softly with a tired smile on "How's your day?"

"Pretty boring" He smiled "What about yours?"

"Long" You said inmediately "Very, very long" You sighed closing your eyes "I'm so tired all I want to do is sleep" You let yourself go face down on your bed "and not move from the bed at all for at least three days straight" You heard his sweet laugh

"You gotta go and shower, amor"

"Are you telling me that I stink?" You looked up to him and saw how his lips were pushed upwards and looked to another side "I'm not!"

"You're" He said

"You're lying, Antoine Griezmann" His facade fell quickly as laughter came over him

"I can shower with you if you want"

"Your hair is wet"

"I can still take another shower" You hum with a smile on, you pushed yourself up and crawled on the bed to be face to face with him

"Only shower?"

"Well... I can think about something else too"

"Save that for later, campeón. I'm tired right now"

"You pervert, I was talking about a massage!" You laugh kissing his lips and going straight to the bathroom "You dirty minded"

You took off your shirt and throwed it at him "Shut up and come to take a shower with me"

Antoine got up really fast and ran towards the bathroom making you laugh "You're a 33 year old man but you still act as if you were 16"

"That's the spirit!"

Once you were inside the bathroom, he truly saw how tired you were and took care of you without thinking twice, he washed your hair, your body, he talked to you trying to get your head off from work and after that he helped you with your after shower routine, the creams on your body, doing your hair for you in a nice braid, dressing you in your pijama's which consisted in one of his shirts and panties.

"Thank you, Anto" You kiss his cheek

"No need to thank me, princesse" He smiled "I'm glad I can help you whenever you're having a bad day" You smile softly

"It wasn't a bad day" You confess "It was just a really tiring and long day, I had to run around everywhere, the guys were making simple mistakes, the documents I was waiting for to sign weren't even done, two meetings got pushed back because one of them is sick... It was crazy" You whispered shaking your head "What about you? How was training?"

"Koke keeps calling me Toni Pepperoni"

"You let him"

"He heard you" You laugh softly "But overall was good, tiring and hard like always but there were always laughter"

"Sometimes I wish I can switch offices with you" He laughed

"You wouldn't want that"

"No, I wouldn't" You agree "I run five minutes and I'm already passing out, imagine having to run from one side of a field to the other for +90 minutes. I'll be dead" You both laugh "And the work sessions you do, shut your mouth don't get me started on that" You shake your head "It's truly amazing what you do, love"

"Your work is amazing too. Without you the company wouldn't know how to work"

"That's called being a bossy bitch" He laughs

"You're bossy, yes. But not a bitch"

"I can be sometimes"

"0 out 11 times"

"But I still am" You winked as he laughs once again. You enjoy that sound and the smile that covers his handsome face.

"Definitely, Morata's afraid of you"

"He should be. I didn't let my shoe go out after kicking that ball for no reason"

"That day was so amazing" His giggles made you giggle as well, you keep on talking about your days and about random things that went to your mind at that moment, when he suddenly asked "Baby, how does a date night sound?"

"Do we have to go out?"

"You know we don't"

"Then it's perfect"

"You set up the movie and I'll bring something to eat"

"Can I cuddle you?"

"Do you even have to ask? Of course you will" He scoffs "Do you want Chip Ahoy's and Pringles's?" You opened your mouth but he beat you to it "Of course you will"

"Mira tu-!" (Look, you little-!) You grabbed his pillow and went to throw it at him but he passed through the door "You're lucky I'm in love with you!"

"You're the lucky one, señora!" (Old lady)

"You're definitely not coming out alive out of this one, Griezmann!" You ran out after him, you heard his laugh already on the kitchen as you made your way downstairs. He was going to get it.

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#gadriezmannsgirl writes!#antoine griezmann blurb #antoine griezmann fluff #antoine griezmann x reader #antoine griezmann x you #antogriezmann #antoine griezmann #atletico madrid #atleti #france #antoine griezmann one shot #antoine griezmann fanfic #atletico de madrid #france national team #football players x reader #football players fanfic #football imagines

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factorialsotherfandoms · 3 months

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So um I wrote about xcom!Chayanne yesterday and I don't have the energy to do his whole rescue and I'm not in the mood to hurt him as much as something before that would need, but also idk about you but **I** need some follow up from that. Get the baby a hug.

TW: badly injured child, referenced child abuse, hospital setting, talk about a child very nearly dying (in the past)

Philza knew it wasn't good - he'd seen the poor kid pass out, for fuck's sake - but he had not quite realised how bad it was. He hadn't been working with the sort of tech the infirmary has, too focused on keeping the two kids alive to think about the implications of their injuries.

The tablet Doctor Ruiz hands him, though... One kid - the one currently curled up with Roier as they both sleep off their injuries - he knew about. The broken bones about match what he predicted, looking at the poor sod. There's a worrying amount of head trauma, yes, but bar an inability to talk the kid had seemed alert and aware. Bit hard to tell with children, but he'll hopefully be fine.

It's the second he worries about; he had not even realised the kid was injured until he passed out in Missa's arms and, fuck, Philza doesn't think he'll ever be able to forgive himself for that. The scars, the cuts... the last of their splash potions hadn't woken him, but had at least closed up the wounds and bought some colour back to the kid's cheeks.

He'd known it was bad, he had, he swears, but this... The scar pattern, the slightly sticky marks on his chest, the breaks in his ribs... Not just current ones, either, but on the x-rays he can see evidence of them having been broken before. Similar places, too.

There are other scans, too, ones of a sort that Philza does not understand. They show the child's organs, presumably damage to them, but he really wouldn't know.

They still don't scare him as much as the x-rays of his ribs, if only because he only understands the latter; he flicks back to them, and stares in horror.

"Is that...?" he hands the tablet back to her - he isn't a doctor, he could be wrong, he just picks shit up here and there.

Her face is grim as she nods.

"Fucking hell," he breathes the word out; it makes a lot of sense, now, why she had insisted on this boy being on a bed alone, surrounded by wires and monitors instead of letting Missa hold him. "Do we know what happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," she says, folding her arms around the tablet and clinging to it. "If I had to guess, shock from one of the scarring injuries. His biology is... Strange, though - human blood is compatible, at least, and his vitals are stable. I have no idea if they are /good/, but they are stable."

"Will he be okay?" he asks.

"I..." it's never a good thing when the doctor fucking hesitates to answer that question. "If he heals like a human and my guess is correct? Yes. If not, it is outside my expertise."

Philza takes a deep breath, calms himself, and nods, "thanks for the update."

She nods, "I'll get started on the reports; I just thought you'd like to know."

"Oh I fucking hate it," he replies. "But it's better than not knowing; you handle the reports, I'll keep an eye on the kid."

She nods, and vanishes.

And, fuck, how is he going to tell Missa? The man's already attached, and it's not an easy thing to tell someone - 'oh, yeah, that kid we rescued? His heart stopped recently enough his ribs have barely started healing from being broken during CPR, and he still had gunk from a fucking heart monitor on him. Also? Not the first time it's happened'.

Philza runs his hands over his face and, fuck, he wishes he had made that bitch /suffer/. For all her talk of honour, she'd done her fucking best to murder a /child/.

It's too late now, already dead under Jaiden's knife, but fuck he wants her to suffer more. The kids are, what, ten? Something like that?

And don't try tell him that it wasn't the Assassin - Philza /knows/ swords, and hers are a perfect match for the scars and wounds littered all over the poor boy's skin.

Given the chance to fight her again, he'd rip her apart with his bare fucking hands. Or, let Cellbit do it at least. He does have more the talent for it these days.

But, there's not much to be done, not now. The Assassin is dead, and the kid is in an actual fucking infirmary. Jaiden and Roier both need to stay, to the concern and delight of the other little boy, while after getting patched up Missa and Philza elected to stay with this one. Cellbit's off somewhere - probably struggling to pull things from the archive with one arm in a cast - and Etoiles elected to get some fucking sleep.

It seems like a good idea.

Philza doesn't think he can, not without nightmares of a little boy bleeding to death, alone and scared, in a prison cell.

Or stabbed again - Missa did say both boys had tried to fight the Assassin; for all Philza admires their persistence, fighting back on the wounds they have, he's fucking terrified for them.

And, thinking of Missa, the man is waking up. Philza turns his attention there, watching him get up.

"Hey Missa," he smiles over, but he knows it looks thin.

He gets a smile back, as Missa scoots himself up to sitting.

The smile falls as soon as Missa lays eyes on the kid in the bed.

"How is he?"

"He had to be resuscitated."

Philza realises his mistake as he sees absolute terror consume Missa's features, and a terrified whine.

"Not today!" he clarifies, quickly, loudly. "Jesus fuck, I would have woken you if it was today. Sorry, sorry - recently, though, his ribs are still fucked up. Maybe a few days ago? Week at most?"

The whine turns from terror to heartbreak, Missa scrambling over with his too-long limbs. He picks up the boy's hand, clinging to it and muttering rapidly in Spanish.

Philza doesn't try to translate, not when the kid is obviously the one addressed - if anyone at all.

"Fuck, Missa, it wasn't even the first time either. Doc says he'll be fine so long as he heals like a human - and he's got human blood and human organs so we should be okay - but, fucking hell mate, I just..."

What does Philza even say? He permits the words to vanish into Missa's whine.

He reaches across, resting his hand atop Missa's. It takes the man a little bit to stop whining and ask "do we know why?"

"Not really," Philza feels his grimace. "We're hoping shock from the other injuries. It's bad, but now they're healed or healing... Easiest shit to fix, out of the options. Can't see anything else, doesn't mean there isn't."

There's another pained noise from Missa. Philza reaches up, absently wiping at his tears as he looks away to the boy's face. It takes a bit for Missa to collect himself up, clinging to the boy's hand and brushing his hair from his face.

"He's safe now?" Missa asks.

"He's safe," Philza confirms. "And once he's better, we'll find somewhere safe for him to stay."

It's a long shot, but they have some ideas of places safer than an airship full of the government's most wanted, at least.

Missa's fussing also seems to have awoken the boy; Missa startles, and turns to him, and when Philza's eyes follow he sees the little red flames in place of eyes watching them both.

Missa speaks something soothing in Spanish; Philza is still too furious to speak calmly enough for an injured and probably scared child.

The boy tries to sit up, only to flinch; Philza catches him, and helps him back down. Across the room he catches Doctor Ruiz's eye - she just gestures for him to go ahead and returns to her paperwork.

"Hey now," he tries to be gentle, but his voice is not really having it. "Lay back down. Your friend is just over there, see?"

The kid turns his head, and does relax a little when he spots the other boy. He still does not speak, glancing around but always returning to Philza and Missa.

"You're safe here," Missa promises. "Philza and I won't let anyone hurt you."

The kid glances between them; Philza tries to back Missa up with a nod.

He looks... confused, more than anything, glancing back at the other child, then at the adults. It takes a little bit, before he raises his arms and...

"Oh..." Philza whispers.

Missa leans down first, doing his best to avoid any of the wires or tubes surrounding the boy.

Philza follows a bit later, putting one arm across Missa's back and, with a lack of space, brushes a the child's hair with the other.

"We fucked her up," Philza promises. "She won't be hurting anyone again."

The boy does not stay awake long, his body brutalised and exhausted. Within moments of the hug starting he has fallen back asleep. Both Philza and Missa are reluctant to let go, but know that they must.

Missa sings lullabys, the music keeping Philza more to the present. He does not have much of a singing voice, so he fetches blankets instead, hoping the pressure will be comforting to the boy.

"He just wanted a hug," Missa's voice is broken. "Phil, Phil, he just- just a hug..."

Philza's own heart is a ruin, too; he opens his own arms up, and gestures Missa over. He wraps his friend in his arms, lets him cry into his shoulder.

If he also cries into Missa's hair, then it is his secret to tell.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp missa #chayanne will be back to his own stabby self soon #he's just had... an extremely shit time #give him a few weeks and he'll be terrorising his parents #who will be his parents by then #for now they're just guys who got a bit attached both ways

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scoonsalicious · 17 days

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okay, straight to the point. I hate how he's going about things. So much lies right off the bat, and Pocket is too high above the clouds to recognize it. Okay, maybe he was telling half-truths (which is still considered a lie in my opinion) I am 100% sure he saw all those articles but maybe, he didn't get to see Pockets texts right away. Not after he's done something wrong (I'll elaborate on that in a sec) because, while reading these parts, it all feels a bit like love bombing to me. Idk, something definitely happened on that mission, and I wish the first thing Bruno (that's right bc I'm annoyed at him right now) should've done was confess RIGHT AWAY. I don't care if it's going to blow up things, it's far better to be truthful now so at least he can salvage some integrity and at least Pocket could see his remorse and regret but nooooo he had to cover it up. So now, everything that came out of his mouth after that, it will seem like a lie to Pocket. The house, marriage, kids, starting a family? Pocket will now only see that as damage control instead of something he actually wants to do. Him asking her to move out of the tower? Why? Because he's scared the truth will come out because everyone knows Jellani can't keep her mouth shut. And if something happened between them on that mission (which i know something happened. you can't full me Beethoven) do you really think she won't brag about it? claiming that she "won" ??? Sigh. It would've been better if Pocket heard it from him first rather than that mule of a snake. But alas, idiots be idiots. I'm honestly just so disappointed in him.

Now, as to what Blake has done. I am hopeful it didn't go further than a kiss, making out and petting at the worst. I still believe he has a good enough heart in him not to pull through because he truly never saw Jesse that way and he physically can't since he loves Pocket so much. But sigh, he can be so fucking stupid so idk, my hope is definitely wavering. If they did end up having sex, that's much more difficult for him to come back from, for me, at least. And while yes, any of the above technically won't be cheating, but that's still a cold-hearted betrayal. And everything leading up to it, there are so many layers to it? let me do a list for Pocket

Sleeping (allegedly) with the person you told me not to worry about, better yet, the person who blew up our relationship in the first place

So that was a lie, how you never saw her like that, how you never wanted to sleep with her? What else were you lying about?

You believed random strangers' words (articles) over my own

Beleiving her (Jolene) words over my own because she obviously told you stuff. Again.

The second you saw me with a friend you're insecure about, the first thing that came to your mind was to hurt me back even though I never did anything to you. You did it for revenge. (this part is so touchy to me because this happened to me a lot haha)

You've been so insisting on me wanting to hear you side, but you can't even spear me a second to the same?

The covering up. The lies. The manipulation (a lil far fetch but, him waking her with an orgasm, trying to keep her all pleasured and joyful so he can have the time to cover up his tracks) You're dangling marriage and family in front of my face while you have a knife in your hand and you're digging in on my back

I could go on and on and on, but I think the thing that would hurt Pocket the most is the lying. The point blank, lying to her face. I really really wished Blake came clean right away. It would've been so much better that way. Like yeah, Pocket would still be hurt and angry, rightfully so, but at least he's showing how much he regretted it, and that he felt remorse by coming clean. But he HAD to cover it up, he had to keep on lying, he had to hide it under the guise of starting a FAMILY AND GETTING MARRIED. like that's just so cruel. and I would argue, that makes it so much more hurtful. It's like acid on a wound. and like you said, it's how he went about it that hurt Pocket rather than the act itself. Again, I'm not even mad anymore, i'm just downright disappointed.

Sigh, I'd have to complete reading chapter 18 and fully find out the truth of what happened first before I give my final verdict if Benjamin is a lost cost. But you are also a very talented writer so I have high hopes that you'll be able to pull through with this and have him suffer and go through pain worse than he's Pocket through and actually work on being better. Because (and i figured this out right this second lol if you can't already tell how my brain is wired with these entries then...well, basically i'm insane and have so many thoughts) the reason why Bobby keeps making all these mistakes over and over is because he's trying to be better for the wrong reason. He's doing all this work to be better and to gain Pocket's trust, why? Because he wants her back. He wants to be with her again, and honestly, I don't think that's the right way to go about it. He should be trying to be better for her because he realized how much pain he's caused her and he doesn't want that anymore. He should be trying to be better because he wants to be, so he can't stop hurting people he loves. But he's treating is as an objective, a goal to fulfill so he can get the prize which is getting the girl back. And that just seems like he truly hasn't realized yet just how much he fucked up, or at least, realized how hurt Pocket was with all of this. Like, he should be trying to be better without any expectations, it should be "I'm trying to be better so I can be a better person, and earn her trust back, whether we get back together or not, it doesn't matter. All I care about is fixing this mess and helping her heal and being a better person. No incentive, no price, just because I want to" but hey. what do I know

ANYWAYS, this got wayyyy too long I am so so sorry. But sigh, I'm both anxious and excited for the rest of Chapter 18, I know shits about to hit the fan but after that, I know Brandon is going to go through so much pain, and honestly, I'm here for it. The least he can do to understand what Pocket's been going through. You're amazing as always! sending you love!

Ok, first of all, we don't talk about Bruno. I'm sorry. I had to. Please forgive me. As for the things he told her wanted-- a place of their own, getting married, maybe kids-- he does want all that, so much, with her. He wants it so badly. There's some wording you used ("I still believe he has a good enough heart in him not to pull through because he truly never saw Jesse that way and he physically can't since he loves Pocket so much.") that I find very, very interesting, and I'd like you to hold this thought in your head until about Chapter 27 or so... Also, i like that you referred to her as Jolene, because "I'm beggin' of you, please don't take my man" is so appropriate here; though Pocket would never beg her, not even a little bit.

Again, so many things I want to say to you, but I cannot! For it would be spoilery and no one wants that! As always, though, your posts make my night. I look forward to them every day! <3

#unwanted #jnon report

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bamsara · 2 years

Note

Dude you are literally gonna end up destroying your body if you keep going on like this. Like you yourself said that many of your health issues and burnouts are caused by you not taking care of yourself and not resting enough. And if you haven't noticed already, that is exactly what you're doing! If your knee is messed up and your legs hurt THEN DON'T STRAIN THEM ANY LONGER BY WALKING ALL DAY LONG AT A CONVENTION AGAIN. If you really wanna go to that convention, you don't have to be there all day long. You can be there for just a few hours and I swear it'll be fine! And even if you aren't sleeping because you can't at least doing something relaxing or just whatever self care you can is enough and maybe that could even make you a little sleepy idk. Just please stop straining yourself so much because you're worrying us all and I don't think any of your fans or mutuals want you to go through yet another near death experience. Please I am begging you even if you're not gonna take care of yourself at least stop overworking yourself even further! You body is literally begging you for a break at this point and everyone around you is doing so as well!!! Please I'm so worried

Yeah I no longer care about the state of my body anymore lol

We are planning to head out later today, around 3ish to the con, but I'll be driving and packing and taking care of other stuff until then. I have some advil for legs and got some eyedrops for my eyes since theyre irritated as hell from no sleep.

I do plan on sleeping hard tonight because it's the long drive back home tomarrow, after the con and the aquarium (my friend that I'm with has never been, and I would like to treat her since she won't really get another oppurtunity) so we'll be busy a lot of the day and then dring home, but I'm hoping to get some cool pictures

#sorry im just #yeah

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sparkles-oflight · 4 months

Text

JOKER OUT STOŽICE - REVIEW

Sorry for this review coming out this late. I know the album has been out for me for the past 14 hours, but 1. Fandom is not my life priority and 2. Yesterday I was close to collapsing due to dehydration, hunger, and lack of sleep so I hope you understand why I'm putting this out now (I'm okay)

Sunny Side Of London

I don't have a lot to comment on because we already had this song, but I'll never not say that SSOL live is so much better than the studio version ESPECIALLY because of the ending. We don't get 30 seconds of emptiness but we get a wholeass show!

Gola

The perfect transition???? I didn't notice the song changed.

I love how you can hear the people singing along

ZA NAJYU

I got ads between songs -_- (3, I hate you Spotify)

Bele Sanje

Uuu u uu

Bele Sanje my beloved

no lala :(

guitars :)

THE TRANSITION

IT'S SO GOOD

IT'S LIKE BEING THERE

Plastika

Bojan's interpretation is so good.

He didn't get too invested - which could be bad because he could lose the vocal aspect - but instead he did just enough for us to get the message and keep the quality, which I love(I hope this makes sense)

PLAAAASTIKA

Ads...

Proti Toku

See, I think on this one he was close to cross the line of "too much interpretation".

Kris' voice???? Audible??? 👀

Dopamin

My baby <3

Inject Kris' back vocals in my veins

ZAMEEE

I had to take a break to go groccery shopping and have lunch

Padam

it's so good live...it has no right

It was the best song in the Madrid gig and I can say it sounds just as good here

You can hear the guitars so clearly

Idk if it's just me, but I would think people would be quiet during this song because it's so depressing, but it sounds nice either way.

BOJAN'S INTERPRETATION>>>>>>

FUCKING ADS

Demoni

They still need to make the break between Padam and Demoni longer, imo. We need time to process our feelings.

DEMONI SCREAM

KAD NEMAN TEBE

Katrina

POVEJ MI KATRINA

Don't mind me, I'm just doing a quick google search on how to have JO's discography in my veins

A sem ti povedal

HELLO???? THIS INTRO!???

My mom called me to help with shores halfway through it -_-

The isolation of Bojan's voice IS SUCH A GOOD CHOICE

Bojan stop trying to make me cry

The solo owns my life

I need Kris' voice to be louder for a true duet

ADS AGAIN

Omamljeno Telo

I love you so much

in.my.veins.now

Kot Scre, Ki Kri Poganja

FINALLY ON SPOTIFY

Martin in the credits 🥹

BOJAN SAYING MARTIIIIN

Metulji

6 MINUTES!?

It's such an important song to me, so I don't mind

This song is like a massage in my head. Does it make sense?

KRIS?????

JAN SOLO

ADS, ADS, I'M TOO POOR FOR SPOTIFY PREMIUM

Vse Kar Vem

Live is the only proper way to listen to this song

I really wish Kris mic's volume was just a bit higher

"Brave Oceana"

Ah yes, my favourite Batman In song

I love that a SEA of people sang a part on their own.

Get it? Get i-*gunshots*

JURE MAČEK

ads...

Ngvot

I refuse to spell the whole name and I hate that each word starts in caps

KRIS SINGING ON SPOTIFY IS MY NEW ROMAN EMPIRE

HIS TI PA BARVO LAS

"what brings you to Ljubljana?" IT'S YOU

the fact that yesterday I was even talking about how last year I wanted to do Erasmus this year in Ljubljana and I say "nO, because nobody speaks or knows slovenian"...oh boy (sometimes I'm dumb)

I WAS SO HYPED FOR THIS

FOR TWO FUCKING VERSES

"Ya ya"?

Vem Da Greš

Tbf, it's still the song I probably care for the least. I only listen to it from time to time.

ad...

Ne Bi Smel

Jure's soooooolo

so good

oh, okay, kris? wanna make this a duet?

Ona

HELLO, THE INTRO!? FGWYFJFHWDJL

Petition for Kris' to sing the female Ona voice

omg...what's this? AN AD!?

Tokio

TVOJ KORAKI

Tokio will never not have a special place on my heart

I want whatever universe Tokio is in my life

Umazane Misli

In my veins, nowx2

Oh, someone actually go to sing it?

Also, I love how they still let everyone sing the chorus multiple times

Novi Val

...

Novi Val.

That's it.

I can't describe it.

ONE LAST AD EVERYONE

Carpe Diem

AH-AH-AH

IT SOUNDS SO GOOD

HIS HVALA LEPA LAUGH

IT'S SO GOOD TO WRAP IT UP

I WANNA CRY

DEFINITELY ONE OF MY FAVORITES

<3 hvala lepa fantje for my making my year better

The bass??? hello???

#joker out #joker out stožice #Stožice album

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throneofsapphics · 6 months

Note

you completely knocked me out with “knocking on death’s door”. i read it DAILY. i love that trope way too much and the scenes where dorian is reading to her, desperately hoping for a sign of her waking up, and the one where manon is lying next to her crying… angst level 9999. it’s one of my favorite fanfics ever, it’s literally so perfect, i just wish it was a little longer (to add even more angst to it ofc)

and i was thinking maybe… maybe you’d be open to writing something similar but with rowaelin (*smiling pretty and crossing my fingers*)

i was thinking, idk she somehow gets really injured, maybe in an ambush or sth, and she has many wounds they focus on but doesnt mention the headache, so they figure it out too late, and this one would be even more angsty cuz manorian are way more levelheaded than rowaelin, and reader would be out for like 2 weeks and they would be DEVASTATED trying to keep on hoping, but it gets harder and harder as days go by and the healers basically tell them there’s nothing more they can do. and maybe they even give a deadline of when the reader has to wake up, and if she doesn’t do it then she most probably won’t ever wake up. and of course she doesnt wake up and people are trying to suggest.. yk, and rowaelin are NOT having it. and idk i just imagine rowan on his knees crying begging her to wake up, and aelin refusing to let go of her hand. and maybe she wakes up on a very RARE occasion they’re not by her side and goes on the balcony or the bathroom idk and when they enter and dont see her there they PANICK hard

i’m so sorry this is so long but i have so many ideas and your fics kill me cuz they’re too good ok goodbye i wont bother you anymore (until next week at least🙈)

you are so kind oh my gosh. and don't be sorry, I promise you're not bothering me and I love the ideas. I'm finishing this up and it turned into a bit of a monster, I'll post it in a bit and link it here!

here it is!

time for me to sleep now

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threadsun · 1 year

Note

Hi there Dear!

So I was thinking of maybe MC being a slight Tom cat this time how would the boys Joseph, Jean, and maybe Nick would act?

Maybe try to get the MC to settle for them and try to convince them for a relationship

Or could be a friends with benefits thing?

Idk I'll leave that entirely up to you!

Oh yes!! I love this idea!!

Joseph:

Joseph is... sad. Just a deep sadness. He hates seeing them with other people, but he also doesn't feel like he has any right to ask them to stop or demand all of their attention

He'd try to go about it the gentlemanly way. Asking them out on a date, hoping to start going steady so they stop sleeping with other people

But, uh... it might or might not have gotten lost in translation. And now he's stuck in this friends with benefits arrangement that leaves him feeling both sexually fulfilled and emotionally empty

He'll keep trying though! He'll keep trying to get them to realise his romantic feelings, to hopefully return them, to settle down with him and only him

But he's a bit of a pushover when it comes to his love, so he'll settle for whatever relationship they want from him

Jean:

Jean's a massive hypocrite. He's slept around plenty, but the idea of his Sweetheart sleeping around? Oh no. No, no, no. He can't have that

He needs them to be his, and he'll make it happen by any means necessary. He doesn't care what he has to do to convince them to settle down with him, he'll do it

His first and probably best idea, is to fuck them so well that no one else can ever satisfy them the way he can

He'll gladly be friends with benefits and blow their mind until their only thought when someone else is going down on them or fucking them or getting fucked by them is how he could do it better...

If that doesn't work, then he'll probably just skip straight to the kidnapping stage. He runs out of patience quickly, and he can't stand seeing them with other people

Nick:

Creepy lil voyeur stalker~ He's absolutely watched them sleep with other people plenty. It makes him jealous, but he can't help himself but watch

Friends with benefits is definitely enough to tide him over at least for a while. Just being noticed by them and being able to touch them is enough for him at first

And he figures he has plenty of time to try to seduce them. He just slowly amps up the romance until they're practically living together and dating anyway

It starts with just basic aftercare, soon enough it's showering together, breakfast in bed, leaving clothes and toothbrushes at his house, park dates with his dogs...

He's just gonna slowly worm his way into their life until he's basically their boyfriend, even if they're still sleeping around

#swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sdj joseph #sdj jean #sdj nick #sdj headcanons #18+ only #sunshine #misswilding

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theafrochick · 5 months

Text

my red flag is I'll wake up and be hurtled into a silly goofy mood so i write shit like this to cope. I like the idea of putting this in the long fic im deluding myself into thinking I'm going to write but for now have a snippet i guess since it'd feel weird posting this on ao3? idk.

we love stolas having a mental breakdown. and we also love asmodeus being along for the ride cus Asmodeus playing bob the builder with Stolas would fulfill all my needs in life actually.

something something projection and copium

Anyway

Pairing is: stolas & asmodeus. hurt/comfort

Word count: 2,741

I got sick of writing this lmao ignore the ending.

“What else is this supposed to be about then? I don’t know why we keep doing this when you found somebody else’s dick to hop on.”

“W-what on earth are you talking about?” Anxiety stabbed into you as you hug your grimoire to your chest. This was supposed to be a conversation. This was supposed to fix everything and instead if was devolving faster than you could have dreamed.

“Don’t play dumb Stolas, you and Asmodeus are plastered across every tabloid this side of hell. At least have the balls to admit that you’re just keeping me around as a side piece.”

“No, no, Blitzy it’s not like that. We’re friends! I’m doing him a favor, I would never do something like that. What do you take me for?” Blitz takes a step back when you try to approach him, an unfamiliar look of disdain crossing his features. A knot settles in your chest as you felt yourself shrink before him.

You knew you were a hypocrite for wanting him to believe that you wouldn’t cheat considering your relationship was a product of an affair, but you assumed his jealousy would be resolved when he realized Asmodeus was in a very committed relationship of his own. Clearly that wasn’t enough but you weren’t sure what else you could do for him. It felt like it didn’t matter at the end of the day. You had done for this him but he would never believe you if you actually said that. Or it’d somehow add more fuel to this never ending fire.

“I don’t see what kind of favor you needed him that involves you needing to hang all over him. If its about that stupid necklace you gave me so you wouldn’t have to see me anymore then consider the hint taken. You didn’t have to whore yourself out to get away from me.”

“I didn’t- I’m not- Please just listen to me, I only gave you that because-” You try to approach again. Blitz takes several steps back, folding his arms over his chest. Whatever faint connection you had to him snapped in that moment. The fact that there wasn’t anything to try and fix hit you like a truck and you the desire to cling to the vast nothing you had been given evaporated. You didn’t want to fight anymore. You were so tired of it. You suck in a breath, forcing yourself to straighten. Forcing yourself to not reach for him again even though a small part of you still wanted to. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then we can consider this the conclusion of any business we might have with one another. This 14th or any other are yours for the taking.”

You suck in another breath, then turn and take the stairs back into your house at a measured pace. In the resulting silence, filled by the bubbling of the fountain in the courtyard, you hoped that he wouldn’t actually let you walk away. But then the van door opened and closed. You opened the door to the foyer. The engine starts and fades just as quickly. You close the door, the click of the latch echoing through your head.

You’re fine. It’s okay. This is okay.

You feebly tried to placate yourself as you made your way through the house to put your grimoire away. If you didn’t it’d leave room for everything else to take root and even if you were pathetic, you refused to cry yourself to sleep on the entryway floor. This wasn’t the first time you just had to keep it together for a little while. What a handful of minutes compared to the other countless hours you had spent hiding from yourself.

But the grimoire never made it back to its place, because you were used to not having it. Because you had put a new book in its place. Because that book didn’t even fit well in your organization scheme but the blank space hurt to look at when you missed Blitz. Because you could handle the slight annoyance that it was in the wrong spot than look at that hole. Because if you moved that book to put your grimoire away then you’d have to find a new place for the wrong book. Because you didn’t have a place for it in the first place. Because then you’d end up reorganizing the mountain of books you had. Because after all that nothing would be the same. Because then you’d have to change. Because then you’d have to clean yourself. Because then you’d probably have to eat something. Because then you’d have to go to bed. Because then you’d have to wake up and grapple with the fact that you were as alone as you had felt your whole life.

Your knees give out and you curl into yourself. Between the sobs racking your body and the waves of anxiety that kept crashing over you you could barely breathe. Why is it always my fault?

How much more were you expected to give? You buried everything you wanted to the sake of others. You worried yourself sick. You overthought everything. You tarnished your birthright. You threw away whatever reputation you had t hat wasn’t trampled on by Stella. You couldn’t dig any deeper. There wasn’t any place you could hide from yourself anymore. You had nothing left and nothing to show for it. How was it still your fault that things ended up this way?

The vague burning sensation in your skin left behind from the feathers you hadn’t meant to rip out wasn’t enough to keep you grounded. And then more intentionally thinking that might leave you with something to grab onto as your magic misfired and bled into the room. Ichor seeped out of walls and pooled on the floor around you. The sound of cracking stone could scare be heard about the sound of your heart pounding in your aching chest. You’re making a mess, pull yourself together. This is unbecoming.

Normally a few sobering thoughts were enough for you to reign it in. To get some semblance of a grip on yourself and put yourself back together.

Not now. What was the point? You could stay there for as long as you wanted because nobody would care enough to come check on you. You could destroy the whole mansion and the only person who’d have to deal with it was you. This could just be another thing to add to the long list of things you couldn’t do right. Can’t be a prince. Can’t be a husband. Can’t be a father. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t be a boyfriend. Can’t take care of yourself. Can’t be left alone.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your nails graze your skin before everything went silent.

“What the fuck...?”

You blink back into consciousness, cold from the ichor that had soaked into your clothes. Your head hurt, and your vision blurred. The tightness in your chest had subsided enough that you could at least breathe again. Maybe. Fresh anxiety wormed it’s way into you as Asmodeus cautiously pads over to you.

“Stolas, are you alright? What happened?”

You shove yourself into a sitting position, black spots dancing in your vision. A nervous laugh escapes you as you clap your hands together. “Oh, I was just...working on a spell.” Another nervous laugh. You set your soaked grimoire on the window seat, praying it was still legible. You could barely convince yourself that was an excuse let alone Asmodeus. Not when he was privy to everything that was going on and didn’t know how to let anything go. Not when you had unintentionally placed him in the middle of all of this.

“Wanna run that one by me again?” Asmodeus crouches in front of you, his head cocked earnestly to the side as he studies you.

“Just practicing…” You couldn’t bear to look at him as you forced the words out. Your stomach churned and your throat clenched. You weren’t sure if you were going to throw up or start crying again. Or both. “I’m fine, really. Do tell why you’re here.”

Asmodeus exhales sharply, resting his hand on the side of your face. He works his fingertips through your feathers to graze his claws against your skin. A tremor runs through you as the heat from his palm seeps into you. He always did run hot.

You fought the urge to sink into him, tension settling in your back as you sat a little straighter. “Really, I’ve just been out of practice so I thought it’d be good to reacquaint myself with some of the spells in the back of the book only I got distracted and it backfired a little. Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure I did worse when I was younger. Haven’t we all?”

You weren’t sure what you were going on about as the room groaned and shifted around you. But saying nothing of any real substance was easier than sitting there in silence, trying not to look at him. This display was shameful, even if it was supposed to be private. Nothing was ever private. One way or another others always managed to wiggle their way in. If you said you fine eventually you’d mean it again and then things could go back to normal.

The chandelier gives from the added weight of the petrification and rips itself free of the ceiling. Asmodeus starts, whipping his head around to look at the pile of stone and plaster sitting on the floor. “Stolas…” He edges closer to you, cupping your face with his hands. “Don’t lie to me. It’s one thing if you want to be alone to work through whatever the fuck this is, but nobody who knows you and has half a brain would believe you’re fine right now.” He chose his words carefully, his drawl being the only thing that stopped an actual pause from forming.

You wring your hands together in your lap. For a moment you were a child being scolded for getting upset and all you could do was bear it. What good would admitting to anything do? If you did then it’d make this more real than it already was. So this was just another thing you could do. Pretend. Not anymore. You had felt the mask slipping for some time now but you never thought the day would come where you actually couldn’t put it back on. “It’d be a waste for you to worry about me when this whole thing is my fault.”

“I have a very hard time believing that.”

You shrug helplessly, pulling your face from his hands. “It always is… Things never should have gotten this far. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t that’s the problem. I never think. None of this ever would have happened if I just did what I was supposed to, but I never do. I can’t do anything right.” You suck in a breath, batting his hands away when he reaches for you. “Sorry, that was rather uncalled for. You should just go.”

“Do you mean that?”

Of course not.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, undoubtedly smearing black on the side of your face. “It’s for the best.”

You tense when Asmodeus pulls you into his lap. You couldn’t manage to protest as he wraps himself around you. “It’ll be okay, Stolas, you’ll make it through this.”

For a moment you could breathe. Your mind goes blank for an instant before everything comes rushing back to the surface again. It hurt, and you were certain that you wouldn’t be okay. You had never been okay. How were you supposed to start now?

“There, there, let it all out.”

You whimper softly, burying your face in Asmodeus neck while he gently rocks you. You always liked how unnaturally warm he was. When given the chance it was hard not to drift to his side whether it was warranted or not. The sickly sweet smell that clung to him usually assaulted your senses and relaxed you but now it just mingled with your shame and made you too acutely aware of the situation you were presently in.

Getting a handle on yourself felt more a priority than working through whatever this was supposed to be. You needed out of this. You needed Asmodeus to feel like he had gotten what he wanted so he could continue on. You couldn’t get used to this. You couldn’t start to depend on him. He wasn’t yours to need. Nobody was. You were too old to be throwing a tantrum because you couldn’t get what you wanted. That’s what this boiled down to wasn’t it? Once again you expected too much. It was your own fault for getting your hopes up. How could you end up surprised you were here? This had been coming for months and you should have accepted this then. You should have taken the inevitable with grace. Especially when you left him with everything he wanted. He’d never think about you again while you stupidly clung to things that only ever mattered to you.

Was that it? Was everyone always placating you because it was easier than dealing with this? Maybe you were unreasonable. Asmodeus was only here because you hadn’t said the right things. If you were a little stronger you’d be cleaning. And you’d move that stupid book someplace else. Or throw it away because you didn’t even need it, it was just the first one you saw. What was it even called? To think you fell apart over something that normally didn’t occupy an ounce of head space. I’m hopeless.

You blink a few times, abruptly all too aware of your body pressed against Asmodeus’. Of his steady breathing. Of his heart thudding in his chest. You had enough sense to be embarrassed without a twinge of anxiety so you had to confront the fact that you had to actually start picking up the pieces of whatever Blitz had broken inside of you countless times. There probably wasn’t even anything left at this point, but trying was really your only option when Asmodeus certainly wasn’t going to let you go back to tearing yourself and your house apart.

For now, you were mostly tired, and if you stayed like this any longer the idea of sleeping on his chest would have been tempting. Though this raised the question of you needing to get out of this and you were no closer to a solution than when the question was first posed. “Uhm...Asmodeus?”

“Yes, Stolas?” Asmodeus shifts you a little higher, nuzzling your neck.

“You may put me down, if you want.”

Asmodeus studies you for a moment. While the scrutiny still made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t nearly as unbearable as before. He seemed satisfied that you weren’t still spiraling out of control and eased you back onto the floor. You brace yourself on his shoulder and stand, a headache forming at your temples. “Why don’t you come stay with me tonight?”

“No, no I couldn’t possibly do that. It’s alright. This is a big place. There are other beds.”

Asmodeus hauls himself off the floor, momentarily distracted by the puddle off ooze he had put his hand in. “I also have other beds. Ones that aren’t covered in freaky black jizz. Besides, you need a bath and I know you aren’t going to take one. You’re probably not even going to change either and that look on your face says it all.” Asmodeus cuts you off, “girl you need to get a grip. I’m all for spending all day in bed, but at least do it in a clean one.”

You sigh, not really having the energy to argue with him. “I really wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I have servants for a reason, only people you’re putting out are on payroll. Though word of advice,” he snaps his fingers, opening a portal into a very pink bathroom, “don’t let Froggy make your breakfast. He’ll do it because he knows you’re too nice to say no, and I think you’ve suffered enough for one week.”

“I’m not-” The protest died on your lips as you stepped into the bright light. You were already missing your room before the portal had closed. “Fizzarolli thinks I’m nice?”

“How could anybody think otherwise?”

#helluva boss #fanfic #stolas #asmodeus #my writing

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