#The amount of appropriation in this world fills me with rage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weabooweedwitch · 1 year

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Hey I gotta agree with the other person plz get away from ur mother. Ur honestly too talented and capable to let someone drag u down like that. I rlly believe you’ll be so much better off away from her. Half of your problems are literally directly caused by her and the other half are propagated by her. I wish you the best bc this world is so already hard to navigate and ur mom is making it way worse than it needs to be.

Aw thank you sweetie that honestly means so much to hear 🥺 and honestly I had childhood trauma so I've always kind of had mental health issues but sometimes I just sit and think of things she said or did to me that arguably directly contributed to specific complexes I have and behavioral issues

Like I used to say "I'm sorry" all the time, and kinda still do, when other people would tell me bad news they were going through and like to this day I feel some sort of personal guilt when I can't help someone, because like, I would be an actual child and I'd be in the car with my mom while she was driving and she'd be venting and I was "the rock" I was "the least difficult child" I was "the mature one" and she would basically use me as friend and therapist a lot and she would be going on and on for significant amounts of time about things I literally didn't understand and wasn't really appropriate to tell me

"--and I'm so tired of my coworkers, they whisper to each other sometimes and I JUST KNOW they're talking about me, I swear some of them are only there to fill quotas, and then this bill ran through early and my check bounced and my account is overdrawn"

"I'm really sorry mom :( I don't know what a check bouncing means though"

"Oh well it means--" bitch ya shoulda stopped right there like she literally told me about adult issues and adult financial problems that were quite literally beyond my understanding and I would feel helpless that I couldn't fix or help all these problems she had and I felt BAD and I felt GUILTY and I would just apologize all the time to the point I had friends kind of get mad I apologized so much

I would repeat conversations I had with her to other people sometimes even professionals like therapists and they'd tell me she was wildin out and I'd get mad and tell her "yeah well my therapist that you like so much and you think is doing such a good job told me it's unrealistic to expect you to change and I should just try and work around your behavior" "yeah well thats only because he heard one side of the story, if he spoke to ME he would be on MY SIDE" and repeat that 'one side' argument infinitely until I still never know if I'm just an overdramatic whiny little baby or if my feelings are valid (and I do legitimately have emotional issues and stuff so, yeah I can sometimes have issues, and those never really got solved either, just mocked I guess)

I'm just like. Afraid to turn my back on her because every other day its a new problem. The other week I hear her on the phone, she's saying she didn't realize it was still around, was it gathering interest, how much is it now, and afterwards I ask her and it's an old car she had some sort of payment or whatever on and she now owes, what I assume to be thousands. And she's had several cars since that one and even our current car is falling apart. It's at the point she makes a small mistake and I'm in instant rage mode because it's like GIRL CAN YOU EVEN DO ONE THING FOR ONE WEEK WITHOUT-- like I'll literally want to actually shake sense into her but like she's 58. She's like this forever.

I'm still mad about that pill thing that happened. She took tons of pain meds without even really counting or leaving space in between doses "oh because i just wanted the pain to stop" to the point where I called poison control and they said she was lucky to not be getting sick and then i get off the phone and she. Doesn't even care. "I knew what I was doing, you're overreacting, you need to be on medications for this" like, it. It makes me want to scream because she's constantly trying to force me to have pity for her, years and years of venting and complaining to the point I WOULD TELL HER TO HER FACE I DIDNT CARE AND SHE WOULD STILL KEEP TALKING, but then when I actually bring up legitimate concerns or issues like her almost POISNING HERSELF she has the fucking NERVE to say that to me???? I have an actual completely valid legitimate concern and you have A LICENSED PHYSICIAN TELLING YOU DIRECTLY "yeah I'm extremely surprised you're not in significant digestive distress and throwing up" and she tells me I'm OVERREACTING???

Like. I sit and I think. So much of my life involves her SILENCING me? I'll try to have an adult conversation to fix our issues because unlike her I've actually had therapy and she'll just "im done talking about this, every day you're nasty, you don't get to speak to me like that (even if I'm being nice and just pointing out her issues), what about all the times YOU did XYZ" like to feel like I could literally hand her a glowing hot pink chemical "this will literally give you cancer" and she would reply "no I had a friend in high-school who says this is a multivitamin" and she'd drink it. You can have EVIDENCE and multiple people telling her she is wrong and she either SHUTS YOU DOWN AND REDUSES TO TALK AT ALL or she just outright tells you you're stupid and wrong and emotional and have issues. Like. No wonder I don't trust myself. No wonder I have anger issues that are getting worse. She will literally NEVER listen to me. She will text me on my phone to fetch her water just because she had a headache but I can literally be so congested I'm struggling to breathe and she LET THE LITTERBOX ACTUALLY MOLD WHILE WAITING FOR ME TO RECOVER SO I COULD DO IT like. I love her but I hate her and I'm embarrassed and ashamed of her. But she also IS competent in the sense she kept me and my sister alive as a single mom but I mean, she also gave both of us huge issues and I kinda wish she had put us up for adoption

And it sucks because she has her old childhood trauma and mental health issues too. But I can't help but wish that my father had never lost custody. He may have had some ups and downs over his life but he was at least able to maintain better than my mom. Like for example he blew through a lot of his savings by getting a hobby racing cars at a racetrack and now doesn't really have anything, but like, at least he had that money to spend to begin with. My mom has to dip into a 401k whenever she actually has one. She will basically have to keep working until she can't sit in a chair anymore. I fear becoming her, or at least, more like her than I already am.

Just. Oof. Trying to take things one step at a time, but also considering other options for the future, and of course I have nice people like yourself offering advice and support and that's helpful in of itself ❤️ hopefully all of us can have some personal peace in this wild hectic world of ours 😩

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

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everything - peter maximoff

PART 2 TO DISAPPOINTMENT (you can read it on its own but it might be a tiny bit confusing)

hey guys, i missed peter and i hope this makes you guys feel better abt the first part of this fic <33

comments/reblogs/asks always appreciated <3

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, panic attack, fluff, probably some mistakes its 3:33am 😩✋🏻

summary: peter comes to your new reality <3

masterlist

His fingers drummed rapidly against the metal table located in the jet hanger, beneath the basketball court. Hank waited too, although, the beast was considerably calmer than Peter was at the moment.

“The radio has been quiet for like twenty minutes… do you think something went wrong?” Peter forced the words out in quick succession as he gnawed on his lips.

Hank sighed as that was the fourth time Peter had asked that question, every five minutes for the past twenty minutes- like clockwork, he’d asked Hank the same thing. The only varient was that the question started with, “It’s been five minutes...,” then, “It’s been ten minutes…,” to, “it’s been fifteen minutes…”

Hank understood that the boy was nervous, he was too, afterall Peter wasn’t the only one with a girlfriend on the uncharacteristically sketchy mission. However, if Peter asked him the same question one more time, he’d turn blue out of annoyance.

“Peter, I’m begging you to stop asking. They’re probably fine, the mutant’s energy surges probably just fried the radio,” Hank explained, trying to sound convincing for his and Peter’s peace of mind.

Peter gaped in response, “And that doesn’t worry you?”

Hank threw his head back with exhaustion and groaned, “Of course it does,” he started, running his hands down his face before continuing, “But stressing out about it isn’t going to do anyone any good. All we can do is wait for them to get back,” he finished, fixing Peter with a stern look as he’d began to bounce his knee relentlessly- annoyingly.

His fingers drumming faster than the human eye could see, his knee jolting at a similar speed, a feeling of unmistakable dread had started forming in the boy’s stomach, and no amount of finger tapping or knee bouncing could make it go away.

He had a feeling in his gut, one that he wouldn’t be able to back up with any type of logic or reason, but regardless, he had a feeling seated deep in the pit of his stomach that told him, extremely definitely, that something wasn’t right.

As best he could for the next hour and a half, Peter tried to stay quiet. Leaving the hanger to run laps around the basketball court; his attempt at exerting some nervous energy, his attempts were fruitless though as all he could focus on was that feeling in his bones that told him that you, his longtime girlfriend, were in danger. What only served to amplify his anxiety was the fact that if something terrible had indeed happened to you at the hands of the reality jumping mutant; there probably wasn’t much he could do to reverse it.

The conversation he’d shared with you last night rang through his head while he weighed up every possible outcome of your situation, and in conjunction; the situation he could possibly find himself in.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

He meant it, he knew he meant it. Peter Maximoff had never been so sure of a fact in his entire existence; he’d follow you anywhere. His issue was that anywhere usually didn’t extend to alternate realities, but to him, if it meant rescuing you, he’d figure out a way to work out the kinks. Peter shook the thoughts from his head, he needed to be rational. You were probably fine, but yet again, he found last night's words echoing in his brain, the promise you’d made rattling around the confines of his head as violently as a screen door during a hurricane.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.”

When his heart began to beat out of control, he stopped running at lightning speed in favour of leaning against a thick tree adjacent to the basketball court. Aiming to steady his pulse he briefly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He thought about you; about how you’d play with his fingers to stop him from drumming them, how you’d cause any and all of his intrusive thoughts to be ejected from his mind when your lips would meet his in surprise kisses, or how you’d drape your arms around his shoulders and rest your cheek against his chest at random times. Those were the small interactions that brought him the greatest amount of serenity. Just as his heartbeat returned to its usual overactive pace, the jet you’d left on earlier was flying overhead.

Peter rushed back to the hanger, nervous energy at an all time high when the jet landed before him and Hank. Peter bounced on the heels of his feet as he waited for you to bound into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. But that didn’t happen.

Peter’s heart dropped into that familiar pit in his stomach when Raven and Charles stepped out of the plane, looking crestfallen and solemn when their eyes met Peter’s wide, fear filled, brown eyes.

Before anyone could say a word, Peter sped into the plane, unfortunately confirming his suspicions; you weren’t there. Only a second later, the boy was back in his original spot in front of Charles and Raven.

“She better not be where I think she is right now or I swear to God, man-“ Peter began to threaten as Hank let out a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Peter,” Raven placed her hand on his shoulder when he looked like he was about to hyperventilate, Charles had yet to speak, no doubt trying to find an appropriate way to tell a young mutant that the only constant in his life, his only pacer, had been lost on a mission due to his negligence.

“Where is she? Tell me where she is, I’ll go get her I can be there in back in like five minutes just-“ Peter immediately rushed to speak, ignoring Hank’s confused gaze and Charles’ pained grimace.

“Slow down, bud,” Hank voiced when Peter neared the point of vibrating where he stood.

“The mutant, Galan, he said he’d bring her back, if, and only if, we complied with his demands,” Charles started to explain, grimacing again when Raven cut him off rather bluntly.

“But we can’t. His demands are insane.” She glared at Charles as she spoke, she believed that he shouldn’t have even brought up the option in front of Peter, there was absolutely no way they could accept the deranged mutant’s demands, Charles knew that, and Raven hadn’t wanted to give Peter false hope.

“So what?” Peter yelled, anger replacing nervousness. He’d warned them it was a bad idea. You’d warned them it was a bad idea. It could’ve been avoided. Had he been there, he could’ve saved you. “So what, she's just gone? My girl is just gone and what? I’m supposed to just be okay with it?” He seethed, his breath heavy while his chest heaved with rage.

When, after a moment, nobody spoke, Peter shook his head, “Come on you guys… you’re not seriously considering leaving her in some wacked out world all by herself, are you?” His voice sounded pleading, like a child, stripped raw and entirely vulnerable in a way that made them all wish they’d been more careful, hell, even Hank felt guilty and he hadn’t even been there. He, too, had been against the whole mission in the first place, actually.

“We’re really sorry, Peter,” was all Charles said before he exited the room, Raven stayed rooted in place though, at a loss for what to say or do next.

Peter swallowed thickly, his throat closing and his heart pumping at a rapid rate as tears welled in his eyes and oxygen seemed to disappear from his general area when the reality of the situation set in. You were gone, he’d get you back; even if it took him the rest of his life he’d get you back, but right in that moment, you were just gone. He hadn’t heard Hank’s and Raven’s “Woah!”s as the silver haired boy stumbled on his feet, his knees buckling before he had a chance to steady himself. Nor could he hear the gut wrenching rasps that left his mouth as he slipped into a panic attack that would surely result in him passing out.

“Peter,” Raven was in front of his face, but it wasn’t right- no, you were the one who talked him down, not Raven, it wasn’t right. “—you need to calm down, breath—“ her voice was distorted, as if he was hearing her from beneath a surface of water.

The older woman looked to Hank in desperation, he only furrowed his brow and gradually lowered Peter to the ground. He watched as the speedster rasped and muttered, he only managed to pick up a few words, his heart pulling with each one.

Hank rubbed a soothing hand up and down Peter’s back, while Raven prompted him to breath, eventually they managed to get through to the boy, though, Hank could tell it was more a matter of him having worn himself out.

“You’re alright,” Hank tried to soothe but Peter only whimpered.

He sniffled and met Hank’s gaze, hollowly and miserably, his lips quivering as her spoke in a desperate whisper, “I have to get her back, man. I just have to.”

The kettle screeched out a whistle from the kitchen, letting yourself and Wanda know the water was boiled, “I’ll get it,” you told her, you stood from the porch steps, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder on your way in as she gave you a grateful smile.

It’d been a few months since Wanda had sought you out after WestView broke down, you recalled the words she spoke fondly; “You don’t have to be alone. Remember what I said when we first met? We could help each other.”

Of course, you’d agreed to go on the run with her. And true enough, you’d both been extremely helpful to each other. She was a true friend and if nothing else, she was a bright light in the confused foreign world. As much as you adored Wanda, and as much as she adored you, neither of you were so naive as to think you weren’t still swamped in a pool of loneliness, craving for what you’d both respectively lost.

“Wands, was it peppermint you wanted?” You called from the kitchen, grinning slightly when she responded.

“Ya! With honey!” She yelled softly, “Please!”

Dutifully, you made the two cups of tea before returning to your spot next to Wanda on the steps, holding the hot cup between your hands and breathing in the minty steam. The scenery that surrounded you was gorgeous, nothing short of breathtaking. Rolling hills, huge lakes and flower fields that surrounded the cabin gave it the vibe of something plucked right from a storybook. If it was taking yours and Wanda’s story into consideration, you thought, it’d be one tragically dark storybook, but all the good classics were like that, you supposed.

Despite the eye catching backdrop, your mind was elsewhere today, more so than usual.

Wanda’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, “May I ask you something?”

Taking a sip from your tea you gave her an amused smile from over the rim of your ceramic cup, “Always.”

With that, Wanda turned her body to face you and you mirrored her action, then, she tilted her head curiously, “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t want to pry,” she began causing you to snort out a laugh.

“Never stopped you before,” Wanda rolled her eyes, but smiled, continuing to her actual inquiries.

“When we were in WestView, you woke up a few times, but only when the imposter acting as my brother was near you,” you let out a heavy sigh, which stopped her in her tracks. This conversation had been brewing for a while, you could see it in the way Wanda sometimes hesitated before bringing up certain topics.

“In my reality, I have a boyfriend. He’s my everything, really,” you told her, staring blankly out into the fields as you spoke, “We’ve been together since we broke his father out of a high security prison together in ‘73– did I ever tell you that our timelines are different?” You wondered, losing the thread of your thoughts as you recalled the most significant few days of your life that had transpired in 1973, when you and Peter were just eighteen. It was only five years ago for you, but in this reality, the 70s were more than forty years ago.

“You’ve mentioned it,” she reminded you and you nodded, clearing your throat and getting back to the explanation that Wanda was expecting.

“Well, he’s a mutant like me. He’s got super speed, like your Pietro. His birth name is actually Pietro but he hates it, had it changed to Peter when he moved to the states— kids used to pick on him for it,” you explained, laughing lightly, thinking about the way his nose would scrunch up cutely when you’d call him Pietro.

“That man in WestView… he was identical to my Peter and he had the mutation and… his last name is Maximoff so, I don’t know, I guess it made sense that he’d be playing your brother. When we met I thought nobody was ever going to come for me, then I saw him and I was so happy…” Wanda rested a gentle hand on your knee when your face grew mournful.

“I thought he’d come to save me, bring me home, you know? But it wasn’t him at all, just some guy called Ralph Bohner,” you shrugged with a small pout, attempting to diffuse the weight of the confession with a light, humourless chuckle, “Stupid name.”

Wanda fixed you with a genuine smile, “Tell me about him,” she promoted and you sighed, dreamily this time.

“He’s kind, and funny, he makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known— seriously, I could be having the worst day of my life and all he’d have to do is look at me and everything would feel better,” Wanda’s smile widened, she understood, her Pietro had that effect on her too.

“He’s honest, he’s so good hearted but he can be so full of mischief sometimes, he’s a huge prankster back home,” you paused, biting back a smile for a second, then carried on, “He’s got killer taste in music, before we actually started dating he used to lend me his favourite vinyls and make me mixtapes… he used to write crap on the top of the cassettes with black sharpie, like, “kinda cool songs for a sorta cool girl” or, and this is my personal favourite, “songs that make me think of you”, he drew a little winky face so, naturally, I thought it was going to be super cute,” your own laughter cut you off, Wanda’s mingled with yours and she raised her eyebrows.

“And was it?” She asked, chuckling when you shook your head, your smile the widest she’d ever seen it. She couldn’t help but smile too, the more you told her about him, the more she realised he really was just the alternate version of her brother.

“The only song on the whole thing was ‘Let’s Get It On’ by Marvin Gaye!” Wanda threw her head back in laughter, your cheeks hurt from smiling but your heart felt lighter having spoken about the boy you love.

Once she’d stopped laughing, Wanda took you in before speaking the thing she’d been thinking about since you became friends, “You know, I think Pietro would’ve liked you very much,” she joined you in staring off into the fields, “Peter sounds a lot like him.”

“You’d like him, I think,” Wanda nudged her knee against hers and sipped her tea.

“I hope I get to meet him someday,” she stated, causing your tone to dampen ever so slightly as you agreed.

“I hope so too.”

Peter hadn’t slept in weeks, by now, the speedster was running on nothing but twinkies and redbull. He hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep really, he’d left the mansion almost two weeks ago on what he was calling a solo mission. By solo mission he meant; finding the mutant that sent you to another reality and asking him, politely, to just plop him wherever he sent you. He had no return plan, but he knew what the X-Men had planned, well, more specifically Erik. He was going to kill Galan, and if that happened that eliminated every chance Peter had of getting his soulmate back.

Peter made a choice the second he left the mansion, he’d rather be in an alternate reality with you than in this reality without you.

Besides, he was sick of his friends telling him he should “move on”, you’d only been gone six months and everyone was acting like waiting for you was a hopeless waste of time, it was driving him insane.

You were it for him, he wouldn’t move on for as long as he lived and he knew you felt the same, but, regardless of that, he wanted to find you sooner rather than later.

Your side of the bed didn’t smell like you anymore, your favourite blanket (which Peter had shoved in his rucksack that he brought with him) didn’t hold the same warmth as it did when you’d wrap it around his shoulders. To put things simply, missing you was eating him alive.

He was following leads to get to Galan and finally, in a dingy motel in some lesser known area of the south, Peter found him.

“You’re one of the X-Men aren't you? Here to agree to my terms? Took you long enough,” the mutant spoke lowly, his grumbling voice all the more intimidating in the dimly lit room.

Peter stood awkwardly, out of place, while the mutant stared at him expectantly, “Uh, no, actually,” Peter finally managed to choke out after a moment of silence.

Galan scoffed, “Look, like I told your buddies; I’m not bringing the girl back-“

Peter shook his head, cutting Galan off frantically, “I don’t need you to bring her back. I want you to send me to her,” Galan raised a scarred eyebrow at the young man in front of him, he looked like all hell, bags under his eyes so prominent they almost didn’t look real. He had something of a nervous quality about him, Galan thought.

“You’re Quicksilver, am I correct?” Peter simply nodded his head in confirmation and Galan rolled his shoulders, “I gotta admit, it’d be nice to get you out of my way.”

Peter looked at him pleadingly, “So? Will you send me to her?”

Galan nodded his head, there was no downside for him, really. “Don’t see why not. But humour me for a second, kid. What’s so special about this girl?” Galan asked, a smirk on his face that unnerved Peter.

Peter took in a deep breath and looked Galan straight in the eyes, “I love her, she’s sorta my other half. I’m a total loser without her,” Peter tried to sound aloof but his body language and pleading gaze weren’t fooling anyone.

Galan snorted out a laugh, muttering something along the lines of “Ah, young love” but that was the last thing Peter heard before the world around him faded away.

When he came to, all he knew was that he was freezing, which was saying something considering he was nearly always too warm. He jolted into a sitting position, darkness surrounded him and all he could smell was grass and a very faint smell of smoke coming from somewhere in the distance. After a few seconds, Peter’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and all he could gather was that he was somewhere very, very hilly. The noises of wild animals in the distance spurred Peter to get onto his feet and start running.

He ran for maybe one minute until he reached a cozy looking wood cabin. The lights were off but smoke still poured from the chimney.

Too cold and too exhausted to think too much, Peter walked up the porch steps and knocked three times on the door.

“Hey, uh, anyone home?” He called when nobody came to the door after a few minutes. Just as he was contemplating running away a girl he didn’t recognise opened the door. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock, Peter wasn’t sure why.

“Come in,” she told him immediately, and again, Peter didn’t question it, the strawberry blonde led him to a sofa and motioned for him to sit down, with a flick of her hand the fire sparked to life and Peter let out a silent breath of relief. Whoever this girl was, she was a mutant like him. “I’ll be- I’ll be right back.”

Wanda practically ran into your room, shaking you awake roughly, a crazed smile on her face like a child on Christmas, “Y/n, wake up!”

You cracked your eyes open with a groan and hid your face against your pillow, “What?” You asked in a whine and Wanda would’ve been endeared by how much of a child you were when you were sleepy, had it not been for the love of your life sitting on your living room sofa.

“Just come on, will you? You’ll sleep better once you see this,” she prompted, you let out a weak groan but threw your duvet off your legs anyway, sluggishly following Wanda into the living room, your fuzzy socks helping you shuffle over the hardwood floors without needing to lift your feet off the ground too much.

“It’s like 3am, Wands, this better be—“ you cut yourself off with a sharp gasp immediately upon seeing him, “Peter?” You asked, this time you had to be sure.

His own eyes widened and before he could even consider giving you a verbal answer, you were completely encompassed by his arms, but that was all the answer you needed.

A choked sob left your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, his back shook and his tears were already soaking through your tee shirt, letting you know he was crying too.

“Y/n,” he muttered against you, pressing feverish kisses all over your face while he took in your appearance, “You’re okay?”

You nodded your head, eyes watery and smile shaky. Yours hands cupped his cheek, your thumbs brushing the tears away from under his tired eyes, “I’m okay.”

Peter’s eyes continued to rack over you, his fatigue catching up to him as your soft thumbs stroked his cheekbones, “When was the last time you slept, Pete?” A sleepy smile formed on his lips at the sound of your voice, he would never be able to articulate how deeply he’d missed you.

“S’been a few weeks,” he answered and your eyes widened.

With a sad smile, you placed a kiss on his cheek before taking both of his hands in your own, “C’mon, you need rest so you can answer all the questions I plan on asking you in the morning.”

Wanda, it seemed, had already slinked back to her own room.

Once you arrived in your bedroom, Peter shimmied out of his jeans before crawling into your warm bed and opening his arms, beckoning you in. You didn’t need any convincing, you happily crawled into bed and let Peter wrap his arms around you as you laid your cheek against his chest.

“I have so many things to say but I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out,” Peter said softly, squeezing you against him as closely as possible, burying his nose in your hair and sighing gently.

As gently as you could, you leaned up and placed a tender kiss against his lips, “You can say everything you need to say when you wake up.”

“I love you,” Peter whispered, chasing your lips with his languidly, “You’re my everything, you know that?” Of course, you wouldn’t know how much weight the statement held just yet, that didn’t matter to Peter, though. He had you back, the other details didn’t seem so important anymore.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wandavision x reader #x men x reader #wandavision spoilers #wanda maximoff imagine

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gothicprep · 3 years

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Meditations on True Crime: A Very Long Post

In around February of this year, I was researching a potential video related to how true crime media portrays websleuths, contrasted against their efficacy in each specific case. The introduction was a brief primer on the genre’s evolution, beginning with its general association with low-budget LifeTime films, to a hobby with more dignity than that. I remember finding an article talking about Serial, and there was some commentary in there from another large true crime podcast host.

I didn’t think it was particularly useful for my purposes, but it said something to the effect of “true crime as a hobby can help women reconcile the trauma related to being in a world that is so hostile to us.” I rolled my eyes at it. It seemed dishonestly saccharine, like it was giving a sort of post-hoc legitimacy to just enjoying whodunnits. I didn’t think about it again for around seven months after I’d read it.

One of the subjects that I intended to talk about was Elisa Lam’s death and the online reaction to it. The story was adapted into a Netflix series a few months prior, and I was freshly reminded of how poorly it all sat with me. If you aren’t familiar with her name, she disappeared in Los Angeles’s Cecil Hotel in 2013, and her disappearance went viral after the respective police department release footage of her behaving strangely in an elevator. The case attained quick viral status and extensive discussion, due to the nature of the video and the hotel’s morbid history. When her naked body was discovered in a rooftop water tank a few weeks later, speculation exploded. But an autopsy isn’t an immediate followup, and the online sleuths would lose themselves to their imaginations in the time between. Many people wanted the murder solved, but many let their speculation fly off the rails. Shady hotel coverups. Metal musician murderers. Fear of the homeless. Ghosts. Demons. Government tuberculosis research. The gang was all there.

If you weren’t active online back then, it’s difficult to properly convey how huge this all was. Everyone was expecting Elisa to have been murdered. Iron-clad. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. She wasn’t. Her death was ruled an accident. She had a severe case of bipolar disorder and she wasn’t taking her medication. The severity of her illness was also not previously disclosed to the public. The working theory is that she experienced a manic episode with psychotic features, climbed in the tank in this state, to eventually strip out of her clothes in late stage hypothermia and drown there. It’s a horrific and painful way to die. All that’s left of you is water contamination – insult to fatal injury.

People weren’t happy with this, but not out of any sympathy for Elisa. There was palpable rage from many who had been following the case. No, she was definitely murdered. No, her killer needs to be brought to justice. No, this isn’t the real story. I don’t like it. I’m not satisfied. There needs to be an ending better than this.

Tragedy isn’t exactly in the habit of being kind to us.

When news of Gabby Petito’s disappearance was spreading, I noticed a lot of similarities between hers and Elisa’s. A woman in her early 20s vanishes while traveling, under very unusual circumstances. Footage was released during both investigations, which portrayed these women in mentally vulnerable states. The story was viral online. People rifled through Gabby’s instagram in the same way they did with Elisa’s tumblr. Social media detectives established an inappropriate amount of investment. Everyone is sure of a specific outcome. The family deserves answers.

Let’s talk about answers for a second. I’d like you to spitball a comprehensive explanation for this one: how could something like this happen? I’m not looking for a “how” in terms of events or circumstances. In this case, this isn’t a question. It’s a protest of the unfairness of it all. My daughter. My sister. My friend. Someone who meant so much to me. It’s a prayer to a vacant sky. It’s not a question, it’s agony. Nothing shy of resurrection can feel like justice. Even if the case leads to a criminal trial and conviction, it does nothing to fill the void loss burns within us. There is no good answer, because there aren’t answers at all.

Let’s talk about ourselves for a second. I noticed many people draw parallels between what they’d seen on the bodycam footage and their own experience with abusive partners. “This could have been me.” Do you really think this is appropriate? Could have been, would have been – these are statements with hypothetical validity. It has nothing to do with you. To emotionally identify with someone does not evidence anything. You’re here. She’s gone. This isn’t about you. She isn’t in the position where she can co-sign anything you say. If she can’t speak for herself, don’t invoke her.

Let’s talk about true crime for a second. It’s funny how true crime marketed to men has a distinctly different texture than true crime marketed to women. The former seems to involve knocking the perpetrator down a peg. It portrays them as something worth our disgust and ridicule. The latter tends to foster emotional identification with the victim. Podcasts and other media in this category tend to be by women, for women, and generally discuss women. This story is presented as catharsis for women who see themselves as similar to them. This woman is no longer a person, but an idea. And it makes me think of that stupid article quote that I resent myself for not having bookmarked. This is reconciliation. These women, in their passing, can be a motivating factor for us to break up with that one dumbass guy. I’m so happy this was a wakeup call. I’m so happy that this made me think about my own experiences. I’m so happy that this did so much for me. Sure, someone actually died, but what is that when compared to my own self-actualization?

I made a comment on Twitter about how disgusted I was with how people spoke of Gabby in such an evasively self-interested way, and someone who likely was of no relation to her interjected with how the family deserved the truth. Truth? What truth? What peace will grisly details give them? Is there any meaningful difference between knowing your loved one died of murder or collapsed from exposure? Or are you just a nosey person who’s projected an inappropriate emotional dog in this fight? Do you want answers for her family, or for your own curiosity?

I really don’t trust shit like that, nor am I willing to give leniency to people who say such things. I think we’ve been conditioned to relate to dead women in a way that’s completely separate from who they actually were. Alive, they’re deep, multifaceted individuals, with an array of likes, dislikes, quirks, and endless little details. Dead, they’re a concept to serve a purpose. The purpose is generally a form of narrative catharsis. The creep gets thrown in prison. A woman’s abusive partner gets the comeuppance he deserves. The story needs a good ending. The story needs an ending that satisfies me. People aren’t stories. Life is not a novel.

The real trauma of others will never belong to you. This not your therapy tool or plaything. This is real pain that will never be theoretical for plenty of people. Know your place. Keep your distance. Don’t objectify the dead.

#you know i'm going for the jugular if i bother to punctuate my posts #also do take my warning: it is long

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evilzoldyck · 4 years

Text

Hell is Other People

Admiring the heavy rock that was tailored perfectly to match your finger in silent awe you gleamed almost as brightly as the diamond which glittered underneath the moonlight.

You could hear the murmurs of your guests and the faint music of the orchestra playing in the background from afar as you stood in your private balcony to revere the ring that symbolised an emblem of eternal faith and affection. To be quite honest with yourself you hadn’t seen it coming, just earlier in the day you’re mulling over which dress to wear for the evening party that your partner scrupulously planned for since months, now that he had proposed to you in front of all your highly esteemed company it all made sense.

This was your engagement party.

Pleading with a resolute ‘yes’ for an answer, the colossal baroque hall erupted into an applause at the sight of the new happily engaged couple. Wiping a few tears of joy and sharing quick loving kisses from your partner he proudly showed you around where his parents eagerly took you in as part of the family. His Mother held you tight as if you were her very own and his Father kissed the back of your hand cordially in response. You’ve never felt so welcomed before, the warmth of having a real family was one that was foreign but comforting for you.

Taking a break from meeting all the guests he had personally invited to witness his ardent declaration of love, you stood alone in the cool breeze to process all the adrenaline in blissfully. To think, engaged during a peaceful warm season, you couldn’t believe you’re going to celebrate your anniversary every year on such a beautiful weather, making a special connotation to the word summer now.

Suddenly feeling an unwanted presence behind you, your face that was once graced with a contented smile had turned into a sour frown. You knew exactly who would turn the most happiest night of your life upside down, trailing after a bloody carpet and reigning chaos until the dawn rises.

The harbinger of death itself, Chrollo Lucilfer.

“So he’s finally proposed,” his dark timbre voice reverberated through the quiet night, startling such a tranquil silence. “I’d congratulate you on your engagement, but I can’t say I’m quite pleased.” There were hundreds of guards your partner employed on duty at the whole premise, guarding every entrance and exit making sure to keep trespassers at bay to keep this party perfect. Though with all the security money could by at your disposal, you weren’t completely surprised someone like him could get through easily, he is the head of the spider after all, capable of going in and out wherever he pleases.

“Chrollo,” you acknowdleged him with an air of indifference, turning around to the slightly to see him dressed in a fine black suit and tie, oddly appropriate for the occasion. “Where are the rest of the troupe? Couldn’t imagine you pulling off a heist on your own.” It was true, there were many treasures such as valuable paintings and ornaments all held in a considerable amount of monetary value scattered along the place, and even then, there were hidden assets stored deep underground that even you had just learned about, or perhaps he’s come for the family’s precious heirloom?

“No need to be so tense, it’s just me tonight.” He suddenly appeared before you, holding the hand in which the engagement ring was secured onto. Smiling bitterly at the glistening jewellery, he showed no movement or even an ounce of intention to take it away from you, rather he looked to be quite pensive as he studied it with a forlorn expression. “I don’t necessarily like to intrude, but it seems that I was uninvited by your charming fiancé.”

Taking your hand away from his cold hands without ever leaving your skeptical eyes off of his lackadaisical form, he reluctantly lets it go. “The feeling still stands.” Glaring at him with a scathing passion. “There is nothing for you to take here, nothing that you have not already seen before. Leave this people alone, they have nothing worthy of you to steal from.”

“You seem to be quite fond of them,” Chrollo commented motionlessly, closing the space even closer. “Perhaps even more than me.” A distasteful tone from him had you nearly shivering in your heels, however you needed to stand your ground you couldn’t let him ruin everything you worked so hard for.

“I’ve let you had your fun, released you from your ties, gave you time for yourself and now what do you do? Run into the arms of another man.” He trapped you in between his body and the stone carved balustrades. “Don’t tell me I’ve been replaced,” he whispered in bitter disbelief before placating himself quickly and placed a gentle hand upon your cheek. “My dearest friend, do I really stand no chance with you? Didn’t you once held me high in the standing of your heart?”

Your throat went completely dry as he bared his unbridled affections for you. “Once,” you answered truthfully. Years before in Meteor City you both shared the same vision, the same utopian perspective of your future filled with comfort through grim determination. However as time progressed he began to stray further away from what you both shared. You watched his avarice grow beyond expectancy, stepping over bodies to get what he desired without a vestige of remorse or empathy. Time turned him to be such a monster, an unrecognisable stranger who’s oddly keeping you alive by his side. “A long time ago, but now I barely remember the traces of where I held you in such position.”

Chrollo smiled sullenly at your response, as if he was expecting the daggers of your tongue into his heart. “You’re too cruel,” he detached the palm of his hand from your soft skin.

“I can’t help but ask after all this time.” He placed a hand against the railing, thoroughly interrogating you closely. “Was it fun, making me chase after you? Did you enjoy the idea of me grovelling for your attention, for you to spare me a simple kiss? I’ve circled the world for your heart and yet it never seems to be enough.”

He kept the bitter quirk on his lips as he continued, “like I’m never enough.”

Gripping onto the hard stone you willed yourself not to let your knees give out. Though he didn’t show it, you could see the raging storm of emotions in his eyes, the pain and betrayal he felt when you left and the sliver of intention to hurt you. You wanted to calm him down, pacify his anger like you did before when you were both younger. However you couldn’t reward his behaviour anymore, you couldn’t be on the same side where history would echo the time in which evil was left untamed

“What is it he has that I couldn’t give you?” He spoke so softly you could feel the sincerity in his words.

“It’s not something you could give me,” your tone as careful and gentle as ever around the capricious being. Unfortunately that set every fibre of his being on fire.

“Do you even love him?”

You took his challenging words as a personal affront to your integrity. “I find it hard to see if that is any of your concern.”

“He’s nearly twice your age.” Chrollo staunchly dismissed. “I see the way you look at me, you look at me with such anger in your eyes, like I’m the lowest being to walk on earth; a vermin with no moral compass.” The warm night air suddenly turned frigid at the sound of his strained voice that was holding back such malice. “And you’re right, but what differentiates me from you is that at least I don’t lie to myself.”

“And the worst thing is that you don’t even seem to realise it do you? You willingly use others for your own interests and discard them once you no longer had use of them. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, you and I both know your true nature. You’re exactly like me- in fact you might even be worse than me, robbing people blind. I do my work in the dark but you do yours in broad daylight,” Chrollo stated. “I’m not the only monster here.”

“Don’t talk to me of hypocrisy when you value those philosophical books so much,” you angrily countered, noting how much time he spent on the ideas and theories discussed in heavy literatures such as the Leviathan. “Never have I met someone so ridiculously obsessed with Western perspectives on rules and regulations and yet completely disregards them in practice.”

“But isn’t that what’s so appealing about it? Of course I don’t take these words as gospel when there’s so many critiques to each theory. It’s too nuanced and complex to ever rightfully regulate civil society that who could determine what I’m doing is immoral? For Hobbes I’m merely exercising my right of nature as it is ‘the liberty each man hath, to use his own power, as he will for himself, for the preservation of his own nature,’ you remember right?” He quipped, reminding you of the times he shared his esoteric books with you, engaging in meaningful and intellectual thoughts until the candle burned out.

“I have not consented to the laws of nature and therefore I have yet to surrender my natural rights. Thus the sovereign is illegitimate to me and I’m under no obligation of the state as I have not entered in any form of contract bound by the will and rule of the sovereign. I’m not bound to any laws of this land for I do not conform to the will of others but myself. Plato’s Crito would further support his argument on the laws of consent.”

Scoffing at his misconstrued interpretation you vacantly refuted. “Hobbes also said that if there is reasonable hope in preserving peace to seek and follow it.”

“However I may think it not necessary or the best for my life to be best preserved then I may seek and use all helps and advantages of war.”

“Nevertheless all that is futile for his argument remains that the design of men is the willingness to put restraint upon themselves for a more contented life thereby. We should ultimately consent for the second law of nature requires that we should covenant for peace if others are willing.”

“If others are willing.” He repeated and stressed out the first word. “Do you remember where we lived? No person there would opt for peace, it’s every man for themselves. It is what he hypothetically calls the state of nature, a horrible nasty, brutish and short life, except it’s real. Meteor City is a lawless land and as he states that no contract could be formed in the state of nature. Thus this paradox leaves us in a perpetual natural state of mankind; war.”

“You know there’s more to philosophy than just the Leviathan, Rousseau’s Social Contract and Locke’s Second Treatise of Civil Government has a lot to say on your so called ‘freedom’. There is no advantage to stay in the state of nature, the natural progress of humanity is the establishment of a common political authority for the sake of improving our way of life.”

“Actually Locke and Hobbes states that the state diminishes our sense of freedom but is justified in doing so, by no means did they implied our freedom would be retained, and that, is what I don’t find an improvement.”

“Rousseau would disagree with you, the state is a necessary condition of our freedom for the sovereign is the construction of all through the general will and so is directly exercised by the citizenry. Therefore, this eliminates the tension between political authority and individual freedom.” You sighed, “Chrollo even if you wanted to retain individual autonomy over yourself you’d surely remember Mill’s first sentence on the harm principle, ‘the only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to attain it.’ In other words, as long as you don’t harm others you can do whatever the fuck you like, but you seem to struggle with that concept of freedom don’t you?”

He suddenly chuckled lightly at your remark. “How are you so quick to mark me wrong as if I had forgotten your favourite book?” You suddenly shifted uncomfortably on your feet as he smirked amusingly at your cornered form. “I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the revered Mary Wollstonecraft, we would often read her passages for hours didn’t we? A Vindication of the Rights of a Woman, well, I guess we’re both hypocrites here.”

“What was her argument? That women were rendered weak, lacked the use of reason, had no special moral value?” He droned on and looked afar as if he was in deep thought before returning his sharp gaze to yours. “You had a lot to say about the sexist social arrangements in today’s society, you argued that women are deprived of their natural rights to acquire virtue through the use reason. How Wollstonecraft would be so disappointed if she could see you right now, the most passionate proponent of her work devoting her energies in pleasing and making herself attractive to men.”

“Stop it.” You hissed as he jabbed at your pride, mocking your own words of the past to further humiliate your contradicting present.

“What were the words you used to quote to me? ‘Have women so little in ambition as to be satisfied with such a condition? Can they supinely dream life away in the lap of pleasure and render themselves conspicuous by practicing the virtues which signify mankind? Surely she has not an immortal soul who can loiter life away merely employed to adorn her person, that she may amuse the languid hours, and soften the carress of a fellow-creature who is willing to be enlivened by her smiles and tricks, when the serious business of life is over.’ Aren’t you becoming the women she is scathing about?”

“What’s so wrong with pleasure? Wanting to be taken care of? The want and human need for companionship and love is not one to be jeered at. Might it just even cross your mind that I chose this life instead of ‘building my faculty.’ Those texts described the social conditioning of women back in the eighteen hundreds, women have more options now and are more than capable to choose. Times have changed.”

“Have they?” Chrollo hummed. “Is the pleasure that you insist on promoting for you, or for him?” He rubbed the silky garment of your dress impassively. “Don’t you wish to be more than a pretty ornament? To have purpose and participate in the natural rights of mankind? ‘Virtue, says reason, must be acquired by rough toils, and useful struggles with worldly cares.’ Sure you are provided with goods and raiment but liberty and virtue are given in exchange. You could build your character by the sense of struggle of living-“

“How can you call that living?!” You exploded abruptly, pausing for a moment to realise that you were shaking all over as you stood in your designer heels before him with glassy eyes. “What we did- to those people, those families, it was never enough for you. I may be what I despised in my youth but I’m better off being an indulgence for others rather than taking account for mass genocide; for what I lack in virtue I make up for my own compassion.”

“How kindly of you,” he nodded absently. “Then perhaps we should test it. Referring back on your comment on Mill’s harm principle, you must know then that the cause of evil not only takes account of a person’s action but also their inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable for the injury.”

“What are you saying?”

“Let’s hypothesise that I would come back on your white wedding day and that I would kill everyone present during the reception, by learning this information, you then would be held responsible for each of their death.” You griped your hand so hard you’re sure that you’ve left specks of bloody crescent moon marks on the palm of your hands.

“I have no obligation of duty towards you, therefore the harm principle does not apply to me for I am not responsible or related for your actions.” You countered at his allusion to the other-regarding actions where a special role of obligation is placed within the liberty principle.

“No unfortunately you’re not,” he agreed. “But him, would you not protect him at all costs? Surely as your soon to be life long partner you would do whatever it takes to promote his health and well-being. If you would simply come back to me before the day of wedding, denounce your engagement and reinstate your affiliation and loyalty towards the troupe everybody gets their happily ever after.” He finally took a step back. “In failing to meet our obligations to others we are actually harming them.”

“I’m tired of your philosophical rhapsodies, if you were to kill others or even yourself I would not hold myself accountable so I suggest you’d best return to whatever matters you currently have and leave us alone.” You’ve grown anxious and wary of the dangerous connotation of his words and with the way he was impishly grinning at you suggested that he saw right through your bluff.

“Its getting late, you should return to your awaiting fiancé before he realises you’ve been gone for too long,” looking back down at the sight of pretty swirls of dresses on the ballroom quietly dwindling down as the night grew longer. “It’s reassuring to see that you haven’t changed at all, I missed our philosophical prattle.”

“I can hardly say the same, discussing Western philosophers on an engagement party is certainly not in the least enlightening, I suggest you turn to the East for matters such as these.”

Chrollo gave a half-suppressed laugh and an amused smile, one that was rare and sincere in which held no trace of malice or cruelty. “Before I forget to tell you, you look beautiful.” You didn’t let your hardened expression change when his comment took you by surprise as he slowly backed away from you and into the shadows.

You heard your name being called out by Thomas where he sighed in relief and ran towards you in a light jog before taking you into his arms. “So this is where you’ve been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he playfully chastised with a turn on his lips. He led you back inside the bright chandelier lit hall to bid your guests farewell for the night, however, you couldn’t help but glance back from your shoulders to see that Chrollo had disappeared.

Though his presence was now absent, his words still rang loudly inside your head. His confrontation of your nature, how the spotlight is too blinding for someone like you and how it’s just a matter of time you would run into the dark once more with your back up against the wall and tangled up in his web seem to be conveyed as a confident prediction rather than insults to your moral character.

Chrollo wasn’t here to steal anything, not even you, he wanted you to come to him on your own accord even if he had to force pieces to make you submit to his will. However, his appearance tonight also wasn’t meant for mere formalities, in fact he made his purpose and intention clear when he first spoke of the day you would finally be wed.

It was a warning.

#this is gonna be the last fic for a while :(#im gonna fuck off for a few weeks since my break is over #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere x reader #hunter x hunter #yandere #genei ryoudan #yandere genei ryoudan #Phantom Troupe #yandere phantom troupe

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chorusnihili · 3 years

Note

what is wd gasters past

"A rather broad and invasive question, I'd say, but I suppose I can give you the rundown."

"I was born on the surface while tensions were already high, enough that my parents, assuming that I had them, were gone before I had a chance to remember them. I was mostly raised by a mismatch village of monsters; well-cared for, not the only one that didn't have a specific home."

"I didn't miss living on the surface and never wished to return there, quite frankly. The only thing that made it worth living there is that in my final few years there, I did have something close to an adoptive parent. Who, unfortunately, chose death over leaving their home."

"A lot of monsters like to paint the underground as this hellish, soul-sucking fate worth than death. Personally I never found it that bad. I suppose I never was the type to feel wanderlust or anything of the sort. I was happy merely knowing we were safe and humanity likely had no interest in pursuing us."

"So I dedicated most of my life to making the Underground as good a place as possible. Anything that could make life more bearable. Try to cheer up those affected the worst by the change. During this time, a lot of monsters took up psychology; you can find a lot of studies on stress, despair, and trauma written during this time; techniques for coping and helping loved ones, many of which still hold up to this day."

"Unfortunately given the fact that communication has always been a hassle to me, it ultimately wasn't a field of study that suited me well, although I've been told I'm a good listener."

"So my attention broke from such studies to poking around the world about me. Much of the underground was new and needed to be explored and understood, and, what can I say, I was young and ready to believe that magic could do anything. Except, maybe, restore my eyesight. Heh."

"The migration through the underground was relatively linear. The forests of Home, the snowy landscapes of Snowdin, the rainy marsh of Waterfall, the deep caves of Hotland, and finally, the empty caves of New Home. But New Home was the end. The final stop. Assuming a vaguely dome-shaped barrier forming to the shape of the mountain, we had found it on all sides; the entrance at Home, the exit at New Home, the presumably small entries in Waterfall that human trash falls through, the tunnels in Hotland that the lava flows through. We reached the end; there was nowhere else to go."

"Monsters began to fan out, build permanent civilizations. Asgore and Toriel chose to build their castle and kingdom right on the cusp of the barrier; why, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it was meaningful, to them. A sign of having conquered the humans, something to put them at ease. I never asked, it never seemed appropriate."

"Although many monsters seemed disappointed that there was nowhere else to go, I found a sense of satisfaction from it. We had discovered everything; there was nothing else that might creep out from the shadows. We had an understanding of the world we now lived in, a map from top to bottom, left to right. And now, all we had to do was reshape it into the world we wanted it to be."

"Much of my early life was uneventful. I spent a lot of time in theoretical research, interested in the topics of how and why magic worked, but specifically, the interaction of two magical forces. Why some attacks seemed to be so devastating and others seemed to do no damage at all. A spent a fair amount of years analyzing magic, categorizing it, writing formulae for the so called Stats, for LOVE, EXP, HP, ATK, DEF, INV, et cetera, et cetera. Frankly, the field is incomplete; close enough for most situations, I think, but not perfect. I found it wasteful to continue efforts on it. I believe that the main goal of science is to improve life; if the science cannot be applied to do so, then I do not see the point in continuing it.”

“My studies were broad and varied. Sometimes I’d dip into the health sciences, sometimes I’d dip into architecture. I’d do odd favors for people, look into anything that caught my interest, sometimes even take up tasks for the King himself; ones of minor interest that he didn’t want to bother the Royal Scientist with.”

“But, the focal point of my studies always came back to energy. What could we do with it? How can we harness it? All monsters are made up of energy, of magic, it’s inherent to our souls, the way we express ourselves, even our body is made of magic, turns into magical dust due to a complicated chemical reaction when HP is depleted.”

“This, of course, lead to my most famous accomplishment. The idea of using magic to power things had been around forever, before recorded history. But there was always a mage or monster involved, directly or indirectly powering the thing in question. I sought to cut out the intentional casting of a spell to induce power. After all, this entire Underground was full of ambient magic; from previous spells, simply from Monsters existing; recycled, reused, breathed in and out, baked into food and released again: Why couldn’t the world itself power things?”

“It turned out to be more complicated than expected; failure after failure taught me that it simply wasn’t feasible to use magic without a soul casting it. But, we found another way--and to be fair, it wasn’t exactly an idea so much as exploratory research, but research with very promising results. Promising enough to earn me another scar on my face, heh. Had one of the other scientists not pulled me out of the way, I might have been destroyed by the CORE before the CORE was even a thing.”

“Nonetheless I was far from discouraged. I was actually very ecstatic. Enough so that Asgore had a very hard time calming me down and getting me to explain what had happened and why I had a new crack down my face.”

“I started work on the CORE immediately. Sketching out blueprints and gathering people to start building the skeletal structure of the building while I put together the intricacies of the mechanism that would create and convert pure energy that could be harnessed and used for whatever purposes we desired. It took a very long time, but it’s no doubt one of my greatest creations. Asgore asked me to take up the position of Royal Scientist not long after. I accepted, of course, I wouldn’t think of declining, but it was a very strange thing to me.”

“It wasn’t long after that when the human child arrived. I remember hearing about it, one of the other scientists telling me that Asriel had chosen to keep the child. Keep the child, I had thought, like a pet, like a person would choose to keep a dog or a cat. I thought it frankly ridiculous, but having the human child around brought a new era of hope to the kingdom and, I, ... couldn’t resist being pulled along. I personally thought that the idea of peace between humans and monsters was ridiculous, but it was such a pleasant idea and the people were so happy...”

“Of course, it didn’t last. In a single night, both the human child and Asriel had passed away. The duo had broken through the barrier, only to seal their own deaths. It was a travesty. A whirlwind of horrors, one after another. The devastation, the despair--it was unlike anything I had ever experienced, even when humanity had first sealed us underground. At least then, we had the relief of peace. Now, we had nothing.”

“The King declared war on humanity.”

“It was a dark time.”

“The peaceful life I had was replaced by one of fear and anxiety. I knew what humans were capable of. I lived through it, I wore the mark of their hostility on my skull--and Asgore wanted to willingly throw us back into that over revenge? We wouldn’t survive. There was no way we’d survive. But if there was any chance of giving us any sort of fighting chance, I was going to find it.”

“My research turned from finding ways to make the underground better to combat. Once again, energy proved to be my friend. I revisited old research about LOVE and EXP and ATK and DEF--and wrote up a hypothesis about another state. ITK. Intent to Kill. Unlike LOVE and EXP, which are slowly, solely increasing values, ITK rapidly fluctuates and acts as a modifier on attack. Even a soul with a LOVE of 1 can do an extreme amount of damage if they, in a particular moment, are filled with the desire to kill the one they are striking.”

“Monsters aren’t made for war. In general, monsters aren’t made for hurting each other. It’s one of the many reasons we were slaughtered so mercilessly. So I created a ... weapon. That could circumvent that weakness. The ITK Blasters, as I called them, could take even the smallest ITK and multiply it to do horrific damage.”

“I did other research on the topic as well. How to convert HP into a temporary boost of ATK. With these two advancements...even a monster as relatively weak as I am could be incredibly strong.”

“I wanted to perfect the techniques before I tried teaching them to anyone. But, such things never came to pass. Asgore lost his will to continue seeking war. He knew that he had only declared war in a fit of rage and to give his people hope. So rather than continue killing, he wanted to find a different way to bring everyone hope. He wanted to find a way to break the barrier without anymore bloodshed. He asked me to research the human souls.”

“...”

“I wanted no parts of it. We got into a ... rather nasty fight. I said a lot of things I regret. I called him a coward for bending to the will of his people instead of doing what was right. I told him that any attempt to breach the barrier would result in the complete extinction of our species. I told him that it was his job as king to protect us, not lead us to our death.”

“I was angry and afraid, and I took it out on the wrong monster.”

“It’s about at this point that you really cannot understand my history without a basic understanding of how time flows. I’ll spare you the lecture of multiple timelines and parallel realities, but at the very least, you must understand that the flow of time is... well, it is inherently linear, but, consider it like a... I want to say a Turing Machine. Or perhaps, a VHS Tape. The same segments can be replayed again and again, can be overwritten, can change from iteration to iteration.”

“So the fact that Asgore died in this timeline...and is still alive in the current timeline...it may at first seem contradictory, but it is not, I assure you.”

“Asgore’s death hit the Underground hard. Undyne took over as Queen, but the knowledge that the last remaining member of the Royal Family was gone still loomed over everyone’s heads. Undyne was more determined than Asgore ever was to free the monsters and I felt like there was nothing I could do.”

“So...There was little I did. I was overwhelmed with grief and hatred. I kept at the research. I honed the abilities, again and again and again. I drove myself to exhaustion, I isolated myself. I barely slept and ate. I neglected my duties and while the others understood I was grieving, it eventually got to the point that Queen Undyne delivered the ultimatum that I had to either get my act together or surrender my position as Royal Scientist. I resigned without any argument.”

“Much of the time is a blur. Most of my studies and research done with poor practices and hardly documented. The research that lead to me creating Sans falls into this. I wished to know if...

“Of course, two monsters can create another soul. This much is obvious, monsters reproduce on a regular basis, enough that in the modern day, there’s an ongoing population crisis for monsters that need certain environments. But I wanted to know if ... a monster, could theoretically, singularly donate a portion of their soul and create another living monster out of it.”

“This is probably a piece of research that very much fits the criteria of not stopping to think whether or not I should try to do so.”

“It required extracting part of my soul. Which, to do so without killing the monster, requires a massive power source...luckily, or unluckily, I had the entire CORE at my disposal. So I constructed a machine that could, indeed, extract part of my soul. What resulted was the most painful experience of my life and left me comatose for six months. It’s also the cause of the circular scars in my palms.”

“I hadn’t intended to extract two pieces of my soul, but, it happened, whether through oversight or simply as a matter of how the procedure was carried out. I used the smaller piece to create Sans; intending to keep the larger piece for further study. I destroyed everything used in the experiment afterwards. I felt it was something that no monster should have the power to do.”

“That’s not to say I regret creating them. I don’t, and nothing will ever change that opinion, even knowing some of the terrible things they’ve done in other timelines. But I do regret the methods that lead to their creation.”

“I don’t know why Sans is so weak. And I resisted the urge to try to figure it out. There’s a fine line between a healthy interest in your child’s health and treating them as a science experiment, and I ... wanted to stay as far away as possible from that line. He’s fine the way he is. He doesn’t need to be fixed.”

“That didn’t stop me from using the second piece of my soul to create Papyrus to look after him, though. Or teaching him magic to the best of my ability, even teaching him how to use the Gaster Blasters.”

“Having them...helped. A lot. I won’t say whether I was very good at it, but I enjoyed being a father very much. The grief was still heavy, but I was able to start returning to a somewhat normal life, and even start following what was going on in the Underground again. I learned of Doctor Alphys’s research on the human souls, and though I personally disagreed with it... decided to look into it in Asgore’s honor.”

“My immediate thought was that her ideas about Determination could mesh well with my previous research about soul extraction, albeit with a few modifications--although I had destroyed the equipment I used for the process, I remembered it well enough. So I got to work on a theoretical DT Extractor; but the further I got with it, the more horrified I became.”

“I simply couldn’t tolerate the idea of it. Humans or not, already dead or not--the mere idea of extracting the literal lifeforce out of a soul... No. It was not a process I would condone.”

“I had just finalized my decision to destroy the blueprints when I fell.”

“It was... a laughably simple mistake, really. The CORE is designed to rearrange itself to prevent the wear from the heat from causing too much damage in any one area. The doors pneumatically seal themselves to prevent egress during this time but... I was simply too distracted by the blueprints and I opened the door, and walked through anyways.”

“There were no further safeguards. There was nothing I could do to save myself. It was over before I had a chance.”

“...”

“I don’t regularly talk about my time in the void. Not because doing so bothers me, but because it’s simply... indescribable. When I awoke, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. There was no me, but my consciousness existed. I could see and hear thousands of timelines at once, as if I was standing in an arena, with each and every seat filled with a television playing a different movie. A jumbling mess of information.”

“I have no idea how long I was there for. It was like learning to exist all over again. Step by step. Learning how to move closer to visions of interest. Learning how to seep into those visions. Learning how to block out the immense noise. Learning how to speak without a body. Learning how to see the void. Learning how to construct a body out of it. Learning how to hunt down my timeline.”

“In many ways, it was a rebirth, and with each and every step, I lost more of myself. I lost myself to the aching hole of my soul being missing. I lost my conscience, I lost my heart. I dedicated everything to the endless goal of stitching myself back together again.”

“I learned so much about the reality I live in. How malleable it and time is. I evolved into something grotesque, something that shouldn’t be alive. I gained power that no monster or human should have. Things, and even souls, could be changed at my whim. And yet the one thing I truly wanted seemed to be impossible.”

“I did a lot of terrible things while I was stuck like that. Some were intentional, some less so. Many were reset thanks to Flowey, others will never be fixed.”

“I have Sans to thank for finally helping me to achieve the goal, even if not fully. He built a machine that gathered enough of my soul that... I’m able to manifest my original form and can think clearly once again.”

“Even so... It didn’t change the fact that my soul is still shattered, somehow held together by the tug-of-war between Determination and Void, and that my fall into the Void reset the timeline into a state where I never existed.”

“And that leads us to now. The Gaster you currently speak to exists in a timeline that has made it to the surface, though I’m not particularly fond of being up there and generally hide in my lab in the CORE.”

“Well, I certainly hope you didn’t expect even a rundown of over a thousand years to be short.”

“...Or, were you posing the question to someone other than myself...?”

#let type = answer #Anonymous #let type = headcanon #let type = in character #let form = refused #((Gaster stop talking holy shit

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

Jealously Head-Cannon: Gavin

Jealousy head-cannon with birdcop

*Smut and NSFW*

Did Gavin get jealous? Of course he did, this man loves you, he worships the very ground you walk on so when he sees someone trying to entice what is his, he loses all respectable manners.

‘Gavin!’ You giggled, as he pressed butterfly kisses over your face as he held you close as you stood on the step above him in front of your work. ‘I’ll miss you’ The blush on his cheeks at his words, melting your heart. ‘Promise to come home safe to me’ You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips. The actions sent Gavin’s heart racing, the thought of your apartment being home to him, know when he comes back from his mission you’ll be there waiting. It almost stops him from leaving, but another action stops him entirely. Victor. The CEO gawked at your affection, making a tutting noise followed by ‘This is a professional environment’, as he stopped along the stairs. You blushed pulling away from Gavin, giving him a small wave, knowing Victor was waiting for you. He placed a hand over your shoulder, guiding you away from Gavin and into the building, conversing yourself with Victor over your latest report. As you enter the building a voice calls out to you, Gavin pushing past people and pulling you away from Victors clasp, holding your shoulders tight at he presses his lips against yours. A faint ‘I love you’ falls from his lips as he pulls back, the first time he had proclaimed his love to you, the love radiating from his eyes as he gazes into yours. A responding ‘I love you too’ as your lips re-meet, in a slight frenzy before a heavy cough pulls you back to where you are, the lobby of your work, your CEO and colleagues witnessing your passionate moment. Gavin holds your hands, pressing a kiss to them before leaving, a heavy glow of red on both of your cheeks. Unable to shake the smile from your face all day, comments on how you practically glow, all because of three words and a loving action. Gavin had planned on telling you he loved you since you first started dating but was waiting for an appropriate time, seeing you being pulled away from him in the arms of another man was too pure to bear. The adrenaline pumped through him as he watched Victor’s hand grip over your shoulder, taking you with him, he felt like he was losing you to the billionaire’s grasp. He hated Victor with every inch of his body, most likely because he would be able to provide for you in ways Gavin couldn’t, a lavish lifestyle of luxury. But Gavin had something better, Gavin was prepared to give you his heart in your hands. Dashing after you, the thought of going on another mission without telling you how he felt was too much, he needed you to know. The response was not what he expected, although it made his heart explode, in all the scenarios in his head you had never reciprocate his feelings. The pulse of his heart never slowed the whole of his mission away, all he focused on was getting home to his love.

Gavin normally has his jealously under wraps, but when it comes to his younger brother Shaw? He throws all caution to the wind.

Visiting the live house a few hours before a live set by Shaw and his band, you and Gavin enjoy the peaceful time together, it was rare for you both to be free at the same time. So when Gavin returned from the bar with bottles of water to see you on the sofa between Shaw’s legs as he wrapped his arms of your shoulders, guiding your hands to pluck the bass in time to the notes he sung, shit hit the fan. ‘Look Gave!” You beamed so innocently, looking up for the bass guitar, Shaw following with a smirk behind your shoulder ‘Look bro’. His fists clenched the bottles of water so hard that water squirted out of the opening, the bottle lid pinging of Shaw’s forehead with a force, no apology muttered on his behalf. ‘Come on, I need your help’ Gavin tugged your hand, pulled you from between his brother's legs and kept a tight grip on you as he led you down the corridor. ‘Gave?’, ‘Gavin where are we going?’ You asked as your boyfriend led you in silence, kicking open a storage cupboard door and pulling you inside with him. “Don’t ever let him touch again,” His voice pleaded, as he pushed you against the racking inside, his body flushed against your pinning you in place. “Gavin it wasnt-!” Your sentence cut off as his lips pressed against your with a more demeaning roughness than normal. His hands gripped at your waist, grinding his body against yours as his tongue poked out to glide over your lips. The green envy that glinted across his normal kind eyes, the envy of seeing you with Shaw’s arms around you, the smug smirk on the pricks face burned in Gavin’s head. All he wanted to do was erase it with the image of your face twisted heavily in pleasure with his name on your lips. The boldness of Gavin the man who blushed when you still held his hand in public, regardless of the amount of times you had sex, sent pooling waves of arousal directly to your core. His knee pushed between your thighs, the grinding of him against your panties as your skirt bunched up around your waist, the wetness seeping through to mark his jeans. ‘Gavin please’ you whimpered as his mouth latched to your neck, fingers dipping below your shirt to fondle your breasts under your skin. Your fingertips sinking into his shoulders as a hand left your shirt to press against the core throbbing beneath your panties, a stifling groan from Gavin at the dampness of them. Two slender fingers slip under the material, running against your folds before thrusting into you, the high-pitched moan from you captured by Gavin’s mouth. He skill-fully worked his fingers inside you, the gasping pants from you as you clawed at his shirt, wanting and needing more from him. “Gavin!” The wanting moan that fell from you as your head fell back against the racking with a slight clang, muscles clenching over his digits was his snapping point. Hoisting you up, undoing his belt before dropping his jeans and boxers, throwing your legs around his waist as he took both your hands in one of his large hands and pinned them above your head against the racking. An ‘I love you’ fell from him before thrusting into you, the angle sending withering waves inside you as he ploughed deep into you. Lips meeting to keep the moans of both of you within the tiny area, although he wouldn’t care if anyone heard at this point, he wanted everyone, Shaw, to know you was his. Each thrust filled hitting perfectly inside you, the motion shunted against the railing making it knock against the wall, neither of you caring as you got lost in each other's pleasure. The falling of his name on loop from your lips as your muscles clenched, releasing over him, it was enough for Gavin to reach his own release. His head buried against your neck as you both came down from your highs, legs tightly pulling Gavin as close as you physically could, sweet words of love being shared between you. The arm around your waist held you still until you was able to stand by yourself, Gavin’s hand releasing yours as it snaked up your thigh, tugging at your now ruined panties before removing them in one swipe. He shoved them into his back pocket as he helped you to your feet, helping to smooth your hair down but it was extremely obvious you had just been thoroughly fucked. Wrapping an arm around your waist, a smile plastered on his face as he guided you both out of the cupboard, luckily no-one around. You both giggled bashfully as you walked down the corridor, Shaw passing by you ‘Oh we was just looking for you both’, Gavin ignoring him as he continued to guide you away. Shaw’s smirk widened as he turned to see the red lace poking out of his brother's back pocket, the slight tremble of your legs as you walked away, knowing very well what his brother had just been doing. The message from Gavin’s action to stay clear away from his girl.

Your responding feelings of jealousy?

Gavin was so charming he didn’t realise the effect he had on other women, especially those who worked in his office, all of them fawning over the god in human form. The politeness and subtle ways he would laugh at their jokes, not realising their attempt of flirting with him, the man was positively clueless. But this was because he was so head over heels in love with you he simply saw no-one else. One day when you visit him at work, a young trainee was leaning over his desk, you caught ‘I just hope if anything ever happened to me, I would have a big strong man like you to rescue me’. The blush forming on his cheeks as it brushed it off ‘I’m sure anyone would help to see a struggling girl in need,”. You casually walk in before she can say another word, ‘Excuse me but this big strong man has a lunch meeting with his girlfriend’ heavy emphasis on girlfriend, the young girl scattering. You pouted playfully at your boyfriend, sitting on his desk as he leaned into you, wrapping his arms around your waist. ‘I don’t like it when they flirt with you’ You pout, Gavins heart warming chuckle filling his office, ‘No-one flirts with me’. You wanted to slap the man silly. ‘Gavin they all do! It’s clear as day’ You stick your bottom lip out more. ‘Now what is going with you’ He teases, moving his face closer, the glint in his amber-eyes meeting yours. ‘I just- your mine and I think they need to know that’. The officer shakes his head with a smile, ‘I don’t care what anyone else see’s or thinks, I only see the most beautiful woman in the world sitting in-front of me’ his words sending a raging blush over your face. This man. You grasp his shirt and pull him forward, your lips pressing against each other, you was determined to show this man how much you truly loved him. Clothes quickly disappearing, you straddled his lap as his hands held your lower back as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing member. Working in a quick pace, bouncing over him as your hands tangled in his hair, lips and tongues furiously working with each other in his locked office, the working force outside forgotten about. You came first, the twitching of your core send Gavin following seconds later, your head resting against his heaving chest. ‘I love you so much’ fell from his lips as he pressed kisses to your sweaty forehead, you basking in your afterglow, knowing the man who held you so close was the only man ever for you.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mr love gavin #mr love queen's choice gavin #gavin smut #mlqc bai qi #mr love queen's choice #mr love #mr love mobile #birdcop

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watch-glass · 3 years

Text

Fictober - Regency Era edition

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34202902/chapters/85210993

Day three (3/10/21)

Prompt “I’ve waited for this.”

This was it.

Jonah had won.

He stood in his Panopticon and looked out on the world that he had worked so hard to achieve and he smiled. He smiled more than he had in years. Two hundred years of hard work had finally paid off for him. This is what he had wanted for so long and finally, he was given what he rightfully deserved.

Power.

That’s what Jonah wanted. What he needed. It was the thing that had helped keep him going for all of these years. His pride and ambition were there as well, in full bloom now that he had achieved all of this. Oh how he wished that his old acquaintances could see him now. He knew that a few of them would most likely look at him with shame, hurt, and disappointment, but that did not bother him. Their opinions did not matter now. They are all also long gone. Lost to the flowing river of time.

Jonah missed those men sometimes. After all, they had been who he chose to acquaint himself with. He wasn’t ashamed to be shown by their side. They were all people with respectable lives and fair amounts of wealth; Jonah had taken advantage of that quite a lot. None of them were truly supportive of his ambitions though. They always said that he was “thinking too big.” How wrong they were.

The man who stood in the Panopticon was not the same man that had lived so many years ago. He had changed. Both in appearance and in sense of self. It had been a change for the better, of course. He was so much more confident of himself now. He always had been, but in his earlier days, doubt had been a constant thing that would swirl around his mind. Not anymore though. He was sure of himself and his status in this world that he had worked to create.

He couldn’t take all of the credit though, after all, his Archivist had been the one to read the incantations. He had been the one who went through all the Fears. But at the end of the day, Jonah had been the one who dedicated multiple lifetimes to his cause. And he wanted to be in The Eye’s favour. He had done so much for it and it had given him all the knowledge that he could ever want.

Jonah was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice a light blue figure flicker in and out of view. It was almost like a hologram. But how could such a thing be here? A few moments passed and it made what had happened seem like a strange anomaly, but eventually, it appeared again. It was clearer this time and you could make out the shape of a person. The blue was a light, misty colour that was slightly translucent.

As the figure stood there, it began to stretch and move different limbs. It was like it had put all its energy in trying to get here and now it needed to stretch all the effort out. Jonah saw the glow of the figure out of the corner of his eye and turned to face it. He immediately recognised who it was. The slightly disheveled curls on its head; the way it wore its corset slightly higher up than any regular person would; the gentle curve of its face. He knew all these features well.

The figure that stood before him was the figure of Barnabas Bennett. The first man he had loved...and the first man that he had betrayed for his ambitions. A gentle sadness could be seen on the man’s face and Jonah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. The feeling caught him off guard as he had moved on from Barnabas so long ago. But he knew that he was not mistaken about what the feeling was. The ghostly man was looking around, seemingly trying to avoid making eye contact with Jonah, but he inevitably did. There was a rage in his eyes that Jonah had never seen before and he almost felt scared. Neither of them had said a word in the few minutes that passed and it was apparent that they were both waiting for the other to talk.

Jonah didn’t even know if the ghost could talk. Was the ghost even there? Or was he just hallucinating? No. No he was definitely there. He had been moving around. And Jonah had a sound state of mind; he could not be going crazy.

“Why are you here?”

Jonah could not hide the quiver in his voice as he spoke. It was very apparent and the ghost seemed to notice it.

“I do not really know why I am here.”

His voice.

It really was his voice.

Jonah had not heard that gentle voice for so long and he wanted to hear it more. He had not realised how much he had missed it. Barnabas had always been a man with a gentle voice. Words came easy to the man whenever he set his mind to thinking about what he was going to say. Jonah remembered that he had always been one for poetry. That was why he was good with words. However, when it came to regular conversation, especially with people that he wasn’t familiar with, he stumbled with his words often. He would stutter and struggle to figure out what he wanted to say. Jonah had always found that particularly attractive in Barnabas. He could be like two different people sometimes.

The silence that had filled the room while Jonah reminisced was deafening. The ghost had folded its arms and was waiting for the other man to say something else in response to him. Jonah tried to move past his thoughts so he could focus on the conversation at hand.

“Did you choose to come here?”

Jonah figured that that would be an appropriate question to ask. He wanted to figure out if his ex-lover had been forced here or if he had chosen to come here of his own free will. Well, whatever free will you have when you are dead.

“I...I think that I chose to come here. Everything that came before this is quite vague.”

There was one of Jonah’s questions answered. It was as vague as an answer could get, but at least it was a start.

“Were you really that desperate to see me again, angel?”

“Do not call me that.” Barnabas’s answer came quickly. He didn’t even seem to think about that. He just answered. Jonah felt a stab of pain in his chest. It wasn’t physical pain. It was emotional. He knew that Barnabas had loved being called that and to see him reject the name upset him.

“Why ever not?”

“We are not together anymore, Jonah.” Another remark. Another stab of pain for Jonah. Barnabas had been so devout to him all those years ago. He was like a dog. He never left Jonah’s side and would fawn over him at any chance he could get. To hear that he didn’t want to be with him anymore shocked him in a way.

“Who said that we are not together anymore? You chose to come to me. Clearly you could not resist the chance to see me again.” “Do not be so full of yourself. I came to tell you that I do not love you.”

Jonah had to stop himself from immediately trying to yell at Barnabas in protest. Why would he still love him? Jonah had left him to die. But he had been so head over heels for him. He hated to feel so confused but he would not let the ghost know that he was getting to him.

“Oh Barnabas, you aren’t still caught up in what happened so many years ago, are you?”

“Of course I am! You left me to die after I begged for your help, Jonah!” “I would have helped you if I could have.” “I know you could have helped me! So do not try and lie to me!”

Barnabas shouting was not something that Jonah was accustomed to. He didn’t think that he had actually heard Barnabas yell before. It was something that he wished he could have continued to go on without hearing. His voice was wracked with pain and hurt and it threatened to break as he yelled.

“I am not lying to you, dear. I am simply trying to make you understand that I had other things that I needed to achieve and I could not help you.” “Are you saying that letting me die was something to- to help further your research?”

“I am.” Jonah tried his hardest to keep his voice calm and smooth as he spoke. He knew that this would probably just anger Barnabas more but he was not going to let his true emotions show. The look of pain that was plastered on Barnabas’s face was as clear as day and Jonah hated to see him like that. But he knew that nothing that he could say would change what he had done, so he may as well be as truthful as he wants.

“You- You bastard! I hope you rot!”

“Come now, love. You do not mean that.”

“Yes I do! I mean that more than anything I have ever meant before! I cannot believe that I loved you! You are the worst man to have ever set foot on this earth!” Barnabas’s figure had begun to flicker again. It was clear that he didn’t have long left here and Jonah was glad about that in a way. Barnabas deserved to rest. Free of all the troubles that were clearly making him so angry. But Jonah also wanted the man to stay. He had wanted to see him again for so long and to see him on the verge of having to leave again crushed him.

He knew that nothing lasts forever though.

“And all of this...how do you feel about this, Jonah?” Jonah took a moment to think about how to phrase his answer and spoke again once he had figured it out.

“I have waited for this for a long time, Barnabas.”

That was all he could say in response. By the time he had finished speaking, the ghost of his lover was gone. Jonah did not try to hide the tear that ran down his cheek at this. But there was no point in being sad. Barnabas was simply a memory. He was another thing that had helped Jonah get to where he was now.

And Jonah appreciated that.

He turned back to look at the world below his tower and smiled again. It was beautiful.

He just wished that Barnabas could have seen its beauty with him.

#the magnus archives #jonah magnus #barnabas bennett #tma

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

Text

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 12: Walter and Louis

Ao3

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“Ja,” Otto’s blue eyes sparkled from behind his glasses, telltale golden glimmer flickering just below the surface “I would not waste your time for anything less, Grand Commandant,”

Strickler detected the hint of a tease in Otto’s voice but chose to let it go, the square of vellum laid out on his desk occupying far more of his attention. Had he been a few centuries younger his hand might have shook as he traced the half faded lines of ink.

With this final piece; everything they’d been working for, himself, Otto, the entire order, was now within reach.

“Excellent,” he slid the vellum back towards Otto “I’ll need you on a plane to Mongolia immediately,”

Otto’s face fell, mouth shifting to form a protest.

“The eyestone is perhaps the most crucial piece of the bridge, I need someone I know is not only competent, but highly capable, to retrieve it. And you will have the full resources of the Janus order at your disposal,”

A touch thick with the flattery, and more than a little extravagant; but the order could afford it. Especially since if Otto’s information was true Kilahead would be complete in less than a year. And Strickler felt reasonably confident that there would be little use for company shares and bond holdings once Gunmar reclaimed the surface.

Otto sat back, mollified for now “I will fly out tonight, with any luck I should be able to rendezvous with the Ulaanbaatar branch tomorrow evening, of course planning the expedition will take time. We are certain of the eyestone’s presence, but narrowing down its precise location won’t be--”

“Mr. Strickler?”

Neither of them flinched, far too experienced in the game for that, merely turned and sculpted their features to show appropriate levels of surprise and curiosity while Otto discreetly slid the vellum off the desk and back into his bag.

Tobias Domzalski hesitantly peeked in through the office door “Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back later,”

“Nein,” Otto got to his feet “I was just leaving,”

“Oh, uh...ok,”

Toby stepped aside and let Otto pass, turning to watch him retreat down the hall with a look of piqued interest on his face.

“Mr. Domzalski?”

The boy snapped back to attention “Oh, uh sorry…..was that a friend of yours?”

“Oh yes, Otto and I go way back,” Strickler gestured for Toby to take a seat at the piano stool across from his desk that Otto had been occupying until just recently “He was just dropping by before heading off to a dig overseas, now what was it you needed?”

Toby sunk onto the stool, face flushed crimson “...am I that obvious?”

Strickler made sure the smile he gave him was only slightly patronizing “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have you get good at spotting these things, but it does look like you have something on your mind. Now what can I do for you?”

“It’s not for me-- and I don’t mean it’s about a friend of a friend that’s secretly me, I mean--” he cut off his babbling with a sharp intake of breath “It’s about Jim,”

Strickler raised an eyebrow “I applaud you for looking out for your friend’s grade point average, but if Jim is struggling in class it would be better if he comes and sees me himself,”

“Not...not help like that,”

His curiosity about Toby’s presence deepened into concern as he saw him shrink further in on himself, a shadow of the outgoing, slightly foolhardy boy he was used to “Jim’s having problems at home,”

The tightening of his fingers around his fountain pen was the only outward sign of the profound shock Strickler felt at that moment.

Problems at home.

The words every teacher dreads hearing.

Strickler pulled himself up straighter and leaned forward ever so slightly, filing all thoughts of Kilahead into the back of his mind to focus entirely on the matter at hand “What sort of problems at home?”

“His mom-- his mom…” he choked, the words almost seeming to physically pain him.

Strickler sat at attention and said nothing, waiting patiently. It might be difficult for him to voice this knowledge, but Toby would unburden himself in his own time.

“His mom locks him in the basement,” Toby said at last, voice cracking towards the end.

For the first time this afternoon the surprise on Strickler’s face was more genuine than not “What?”

He’d been occupying his cover as an educator for a few centuries now, and was fully cognizant of the things that could happen to his students behind closed doors, but rarely was it brought up so bluntly.

“Throws him in the basement and ties the door shut,” his tone took on a heavy darkness “I know because Jim basically admitted it, plus there are the photos,”

“Photos?”

Wordlessly, Toby took out his phone and taped the screen a few times before holding it out towards Strickler. He took the offered device and started thumbing through the gallery.

What he saw painted a very grim picture indeed.

And being experienced as he was, Strickler had a good feeling that he already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it all the same “I agree that these photos are rather...damning, but you also said Jim also admitted this was taking place, may I ask why you’re here and he is not?”

If Toby had been punched in the stomach at that exact moment his expression would have been identical “Because ten seconds after admitting it he started denying it,”

He suspected something like this might be the case, but that didn’t mean he was happy about being right.

Strickler netted his fingers and let out a measured sigh “I can see why this would be difficult for you,”

“I-- it’s just…we said we’d help him, and he has to know this isn’t ok, so why would he…” Toby trailed off, voice thick with emotion and the beginnings of tears.

He could quite keep the tired look off his face as he watched Toby hunch over and start to tremble, pondering the best way to respond.

There were dozens of potential answers to that question, none of them good. Fear of retaliation, misguided loyalty, twisted sense of familial obligation. Strickler settled on the one that would make the most sense given what he knew about the situation.

“Because it’s all he’s ever known,”

Toby looked up at him, eyes brimming.

Strickler leaned forward, voice as gentle as gauze “I don’t want to comment on something I know so little about, but when a person spends their whole life believing certain behaviors are normal, it can be difficult for them to recognize when they truly need help,”

“Yeah,” Toby said darkly “I can get that,”

It was at that moment Strickler remembered precisely how long Jim and Toby had known each other.

“Tobias, Jim’s situation is not your fault,”

“Oh yes it is!” Toby snapped at him with a surprising amount of force “I’ve known Jim for over a decade-- we’ve been in every class together since kindergarten! How could I not…”

He trailed off, last few words closer to sobs.

Strickler stood up from his desk and walked over to kneel down and look Toby in the eye “Because you were just a child yourself, because your friend’s safety should never have been your responsibility,”

“But it-- it--,” he hiccupped out the words, clearly trying desperately not to cry “It shouldn’t have taken me this long to notice!”

Tense silence filled Strickler’s office. He remained steadfast and unflinching from his position besides Toby for a few moments before speaking up again.

“Maybe the best time to come forward was ten years ago, but the second best time is now,”

Toby sniffled and raised his head to look him in the eye.

“It might have taken you a while to see these things, but the instant you realized what was going on with Jim you went to get him help. That’s all anyone can do, and is considerably more than what most chose to do,”

Strickler had been through this particular song and dance before, and he wasn’t so naive to believe that his words alone had the power to cure Toby of the raging storm of conflicted, contradictory emotions inside him, but seeing the boy wipe away his tears and hold himself just a little straighter, he knew that they’d helped somewhat.

Situation better in hand now, Strickler walked back around to sit at his desk “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, if you can email me those photos I will pass them, along with everything you’ve told me, down to the right people and make sure Jim’s situation is thoroughly investigated,”

He paused, debating whether this last inclusion would be welcome or not “If you want to help Jim in the meantime, the best way is to try to stay close to him. I know it might be hard, but he’s going to need a friend more than anything in the coming weeks,”

“Ok...I’ll try,”

“Now, are you alright to go to your next class or do you need a moment?”

“I’ll-- I’ll email you the pictures, then I think I’m gonna….take five...for a little bit,” Toby said while pulling up his phone and not so discreetly rubbing his eyes.

Strickler nodded at him in acknowledgement while pulling out his laptop and searching his contacts for an email address he only used in the most dire of circumstances.

This situation should be followed up to the letter. It would take up more of his time than he’d prefer while also supervising the acquisition of the last few bridge pieces, but he couldn’t afford to do anything less. Kilahead may be nearing completion, but that was no reason to let his cover slack. If anything now more than ever it was important to maintain the facade. This close to the end any slip ups could undo centuries of hard work.

When he heard Toby sniffle again, Strickler very deliberately did not look up.

And although he would never admit as much, Strickler did feel somewhat sentimental towards his students. He prefered that they be allowed to enjoy the last few months of the world as they knew it in as much safety and comfort as possible.

Once Gunmar returned, any semblance of safety and comfort would vanish from their lives.

Still...these types of investigation proved to be tedious and lengthy even at the best of times. Extending from now to the bridge’s completion was certainly a possibility

Perhaps if the situation was severe enough to warrant it he could arrange a late parent teacher conference on one of the nights Bular was due to pay him a visit….

Strickler had to stop a small chuckle from escaping his lips.

Pale lady forgive him, he really was going soft.

Louis muttered an ugly curse as his keys fell to the floor with a clatter. Dammit that was the third time this week he’d dropped his keychain while trying to hang it up. Were his reflexes starting to go or were the ten hour shifts just that draining?

Biting back a blue streak, he picked up and rehung his keys before slipping his shoes off and stepping into the front hall.

“Darci, you home?” he called out while continuing on to the living room “Dinner’s in the crockpot,”

Glancing around, Louis stopped in his tracks when he saw that Darci was indeed at home and sitting on the couch, her friends Mary and Claire sitting on either side of her. Normally this wouldn’t be any cause for concern, the three were practically joined at the hip, but their tensed shoulders and worried frowns told a different story.

“What happened, is everything ok?”

Darci briefly looked up and met his eyes, before tearing her gaze away with a grimace “No...not really,”

His hands tightened into fists “Who was it, who’s bothering you?” whatever punk out there that had dared upset his little girl was going to have Detective Louis Scott bring the wrath of god down on his scrawny--

“But not with me,” she looked from side to side “Or any of us,”

Just like that the wind was out of his sails “Oh,” calmer now, he stepped over and sank onto the easy chair across from them “Ok, then who?”

Her face twisted into a deep wince, Claire reaching up to put a comforting arm around her and picking up where she left off “You remember Jim, right Mr. Scott?”

Louis raised an eyebrow “Yes?”

He certainly remembered Darci and her friends spending a lot of time with two new boys almost immediately after starting high school. To say the least, he hadn’t exactly been thrilled, but didn’t try to interfere. Boys were a fact of life, and Darci was going to spend time with them whether he liked it or not. And he’d heard plenty of cautionary tales from other fathers about what happened when they hung on to their daughters too tightly. Besides, Darci had never given him any reason not to trust her judgement so Louis saw no reason to start now. So he made it his policy to let Darci spend her time how she wanted and with who she wanted, within reason of course. And on more than one occasion he had sat her down to discuss what kind of behaviors in other people were red flags and made it crystal clear that she could always go to him for advice and help. But for the most part he left her to her own devices, even when it set his nerves on edge to do so. After all, he very well couldn’t spend her whole life chasing away boys with a baseball bat.

But he’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t tempt him from time to time.

“Ok…What about Jim?”

Claire went gaunt and silent, Darci worked her jaw, struggling to get the words out “I-- it’s…”

“His mom locks him in the basement,” Mary blurted out for her.

For a moment Louis didn’t know how to react, as a member of law enforcement and a mandated reporter, he consciously knew that if any of his friends or acquaintances wanted to report abuse of any kind he’d be the first person they’d go to. Better to talk to someone they already knew and trusted than a faceless government entity that may or may not actually take them seriously.

But knowing didn’t prepare him for when it actually happened. When his daughter came to him and said one of her friends was in trouble. He’d met Jim on a few occasions, seen Dr. Lake in passing and spoken on the phone with her frequently. He seemed like an ok kid, she seemed like a nice enough woman, neither of them ever gave off any signs that something sinister was lurking beneath the surface.

Of course if this kind of thing was easy to spot there wouldn’t be a need for detectives in the world.

He started mentally filing through the policies and procedures drilled into his skull “Did Jim tell you this himself or did you see something?”

They all shared an uncertain look, the silence continuing on for a few seconds before Mary spoke up again.

“We...saw something,”

“What kind of something?”

Darci shook off her discomfort first and pulled out her phone “Here,” she tapped at the screen a few times and held it out to him “We took these at Jim’s house, it’s his basement door,”

Louis took the offered device and examined the screen. Going by the fact that they claimed Jim’s mother was locking him in the basement, and that Darci said these were pictures of his basement door...even before he’d looked at the photos, Louis already had a good idea of what he would see.

Unfortunately he was right.

He shut his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, using years of practice to compartmentalize the mental image of daughter’s friend and the pictures he’d just seen “You did the right thing by coming to me,” he opened his eyes and looked back towards her “Now do you have any reason to believe that Jim is in immediate danger?”

She shook her head “No,”

“Can you describe how Jim and his mother interact?”

The girls took a second to ponder over the question “We don’t really see much of Dr. Lake,” Claire admitted “She’s at work a lot, and we don’t really hang out at his house much,”

“They always seemed...normal,” Darci said slowly “But...there was that one time we were late coming back from the movies she was acting weird,”

He leaned forward ever so slightly “Weird how?”

“It was past Jim’s curfew and he panicked and rushed home really quick, when he got inside his mom wouldn’t let us come in and see him,”

Realization dawned on Mary’s face even before she spoke up “Wait a second, doesn’t she always chase us out the door pretty early on?”

“Yeah that’s right,” Claire said, Mary’s epiphany catching “She doesn’t like us hanging out there past his curfew,”

“Plus his curfew is crazy early,” Darci added “Like four o clock or something,”

“And he doesn’t do sleepovers, either going or having,” Mary added.

Sounds like Dr. Lake didn’t like Jim staying out and didn’t like his friends staying over. Could be run of the mill controlling or something worse. Too soon to tell.

“Aside from locking him in the basement, have any of you noticed any indication that his mother might be violent with him?”

“No,”

“Have any of you confirmed with Jim that he made these marks when he was locked in the basement and that they weren’t caused by something else?“

He saw the mixture of shock, hurt, and indignation fly across their faces and held up a hand “Not that I don’t believe you, I believe you girls one hundred percent, but when going forward into an investigation like this it’s important that all evidence is corroborated and accounted for,”

None of them responded right away. Darci and Claire looking flustered while Mary blushed scarlet before looking down and away.

Thanks to his experience in interrogations Louis had a pretty good idea why the three of them looked so guilty. They’d already tried confronting him and it had gone badly. Well nothing to do about that now.

“We...asked him,” Darci said at last “He didn’t say anything at first, but we could tell by the way he reacted that it was true,”

Louis nodded at that “Ok,”

“And then….” she swallowed deeply “I don’t think he meant to, but he said that his mom hasn’t put him down there since he was seven, and then he started saying that if we told anyone he would deny it,”

By the time she finished speaking her voice was tight and small.

Louis gripped the armrests to anchor himself, the fact that their friend was backpedalling to cover his mother and that he’d allegedly been locked in the basement since before he was seven years old weren’t the worst things he’d seen in his career, didn’t even make the top ten. But it was hard knowing that it had been his daughter’s friend, a boy he’d seen and spoken with on more than a few occasions, that stung.

And seven years old….Jesus, no kid deserved that.

“Thank you for coming to me with this girls, I’m going to pass this information along and make sure an investigation is started with CPS,”

Darci nodded “Thanks dad,”

He pushed himself up straighter “Now I know the way your friend acted must have seemed very confusing,”

The trio nodded.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions about his home life, but I do know that when someone grows up in an abusive household, it really skews what they consider normal. I’ve known a lot of people that grew up with in dysfunctional families but didn’t even realize it until they were in their forties,”

He had to be really careful not to put his foot in his mouth for this next part “And the relationship between a child an abusive family member can be...complicated,” he raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to prevent the tension headache he felt coming on “Things with them are rarely all bad all the time, most often there’s just enough good to keep the victim coming back,”

Too close to assumption territory, needed to bring this back on track.

“Regardless of what’s going on at home, Jim might try to do everything he can to protect his mother, even when he shouldn’t,”

Now for the tricky part.

He leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees “But in the meantime, you’re still going to be seeing Jim at school, right?”

The trio shared uncertain looks before Darci turned back towards him “Yeah?”

“If you can it would be good to try and apologise for trying to force him to come forward so you can keep in communication,”

The three of them were stunned, as he’d expected, but this was something it looked like they’d have to learn sooner rather than later.

Darci was particularly taken aback “But we didn’t….”

Louis crossed his arms, raised an eyebrow, and gave her a look that he’d honed to perfection over fourteen years of parenting.

She trailed off, all of them fidgeting uncomfortably.

“I guess we were kind of...pushy,” Claire said while nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s ok, you didn’t know any better,” he let out a deep breath “Once I make the call and get the ball rolling things are going to get pretty hectic for him,”

He slowly turned his head looking at each of them in turn “Going forward keeping the lines of communication open is important, especially if things start going south for him at home. The best way to help is to just continue being his friends and to stop trying to get him to turn on his mother,”

“So wait…” Mary sounded confused “You want us to just ignore the fact his mom locks him in the basement and pretend like everything’s normal?”

“Not….quite,” Louis sat back with a grimace “For whatever reason your friend clearly isn’t ready to come forward with this, so the best thing to do is be supportive in any other way you can,”

“Now,” he netted his hands together “You girls should not ignore any signs that further abuse is taking place, whether it’s something you see or something Jim says. But if he’s made it clear that he’s willing to outright lie, pushing him would do more harm than good. So if you ever do suspect anything else is happening, don’t confront him, but try and document it in any way you can and bring it to me,”

Louis let out a deep breath, knowing the worst part of this converstaion was about to come “In child abuse investigations not a lot happens right away. It often involves observing behavior patterns over a long period of time,” he steeled himself before he said the part he knew was going to break their hearts “And it’s more common than anyone would like to admit that not much comes of them,”

His chest tightened looking at their stricken faces, but he pushed forward.

“Which is why it’s so crucial to try and maintain your relationship with him, even if whatever investigation we start now doesn’t pan out to anything, if you stay on friendly terms, then you can still help him months, maybe even years down the line, do you understand all that?”

Darci’s looked crushed, expression barely concealing the horror he knew she must be feeling, and mirrored by both of her friends, but she responded all the same “Ok Dad,”

The other two girls forced themselves to reply as well.

“Got it,”

“Will do Mr. Scott,”

He looked over them carefully “So are you girls all doing ok?”

“Yep,”

“Yes,”

“Uh huh,”

“Good, and I promise I’m going to file all this first thing tomorrow,” he glanced at his watch “It’s getting late; Claire, Mary, we’re going to eat pretty soon, care to join us?”

Both girls shook their heads “No thanks,” Claire said “My mom’s expecting me back for dinner,”

“Do either of you need a ride?”

“It’s ok,” Mary added “We came here on our bikes so we can get home in plenty of time,”

“Alright, but don’t feel rushed, you two can stay here as long as you like,”

The two glanced at Darci, who gave her head a single shake.

“Actually we should really get going,” Claire stood up, pulling Mary up alongside her “Thanks again Mr. Scott,”

“Anytime girls, and I mean it,”

They turned back just long enough to wave and headed out the door, leaving just the two Scotts inside.

“You sure you’re doing ok pumpkin?”

“Dad I’m fine,” she forced the words out through one of the fakest smiled he’d ever seen “I’m just glad that Jim is going to get some help,”

“Well just remember, I’m always available whenever you aren’t fine. Even if you do something stupid like breaking and entering, I promise I’ll be more supportive than mad,”

She rolled her eyes “Da-ad! Just because you broke into the old vespa factory when you were in high school doesn’t mean everyone does!”

He chuckled “I know, but humor your old man, and go set the table while you’re at it, I’m getting hungry,”

Darci let out an impressively loud groan before getting up and obediently heading to the kitchen.

Louis watched her go, smile dropping off his face as she vanished from sight.

Part of him wanted to leap on what was clearly Darci pretending to be better than she felt, but he stopped himself. He had made it clear that he was available, now it was on her to reach out when she was ready.

He’d done his best to prepare her and her friends for some of the hard realities of this situation, but there were some things he hoped they never had to learn.

Louis had seen more than a few domestic abuse cases cross his desk. And on two occasions he had seen with his own two eyes just how ugly the endings to these cases could be.

He hoped to god this wasn’t going to turn into number three.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #A Secret's Worth #walter strickler #otto scaarbach #toby domzalski #detective scott #darci scott #claire nuñez #mary wang #rmvwrites

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lawnierose · 3 years

Text

Harry was staring up at the ceiling in his tiny bedroom. This summer after the Tournament had been one of the worst with the Dursleys. Right at the end of the Tournament he had been kidnapped by Voldemort and used in a ritual to bring the Dark Lord back. In his attempt to escape he had been hit with an Avada. Instead of killing him it had apparently killed some aspect of Tom’s soul that had been attached to his own. When he saw his parents in the weird “in between” place, they told him it was a Horcrux. When he woke up, Tom and his followers had been taken by surprise allowing him to reach the cup and Portkey back. Dumbledore had still sent him back to his awful relatives, who proceeded to beat him and starve him worse than ever.

He was lucky for his hidden stash under the floorboard. Otherwise he would have died of starvation this time. He was lucky the twins were sending him packages. They were the only ones sending him mail this summer. According to them, it seemed Dumbledore had told everyone not to send him letters or anything else. Luckily, this had caused the twins to lose faith in the meddlesome old bastard. Harry had a running list in his mind of everyone who was going to pay. Vernon and Dudley for the constant abuse. Petunia for the neglect, and for turning a blind eye when Vernon took Harry into the special room in the basement. Dumbledore had lost his little weapon, that much was for sure. Harry wanted to ruin the man before killing him.

Of the Weasley’s, he knew the twins were with him as was Charlie. He wasn’t sure about Bill yet. The rest could go fuck themselves, including Ron. As for the rest at school, he had Hermione, Neville, and Luna. No one else believed him about Voldemort coming back, and Dumbledore had thrown him under the bus to the ministry to save face. So Harry lay there, his 15th birthday ticking closer. He stared at the tempus he had wandlessly cast and held, trying to ignore the pain from today’s Harry Hunting adventure. He watched as the time rolled over from 11:59 to midnight. He barely got a wish out, just wanting to be able to be who he wanted to be. Suddenly, pain flared through his whole body and the world went dark as he slipped into unconsciousness.

He was awoken several hours later by a pounding on his door. “Freak, where’s our breakfast, how dare you have a lie in. I’m coming in there.” Harry popped up quickly, reaching for his glasses. His hair seemed to graze his neck and as he ran his hands through it, it was smooth and silky and had grown several inches. “What the bloody hell” he thought. He tried to scramble from the bed but was tangled in the threadbare sheet he was given. Vernon burst through the door just as Harry was standing up. His uncle’s eyes were filled with shock and rage as he stared at the other person in the room. “What the fuck freak? You couldn’t keep yourself from getting any freakier could you.” Harry looked down for the first time. It seems he had shrunk despite already being small. This had caused the huge t-shirt from Dudley to slip off a shoulder, exposing a small breast. Harry could see a matching one under the shirt as well. Eyes widening in terror, Harry realised he had a pussy as well. He jumped back as his uncle screamed at him. Vernon was leering at him and Harry began to quake in fear. “Seems you need time in the special room today girl. Come here!” With that, Vernon grabbed the young child by a fistful of hair and began dragging her through the house.

~A.L.A.H.P.~

Later that evening, a lone figure was looking upon the house at Number 4, Privet Drive. Feeling very much himself, more so than he had in decades, Tom Riddle, commonly called Voldemort or Dark Lord, stared as he watched the three muggles pile into some sort of muggle transportation with trunks and take off. “This is where the Light kept their so called Savior. With muggles of all things.” It had taken months before he was able to come find the boy. First, he had to deal with the results of Pettigrew botching the potion for the ritual. He was supposed to come out looking like his former self. Once back, he did realise that a large amount of his sanity had returned to him. He realised he was a fool to have split his soul as he had. As soon as he had done it the first time, all of his plans began to take a more violent and insane approach. He quickly gathered his Horcruxes and performed a ritual to restore his soul and even more of his sanity. Then it was time to hunt down the boy. It was just random good luck that the one tracking spell had hit the boy. Once he was sure he was alone, he stretched out with his magic to check the wards on the house. He stepped back in shock to find nothing of the sort on the building. Cautiously, he slipped forward.

Nothing, absolutely nothing was keeping him out. Stretching out he felt darkness in the house. It first led him to a small door under the stairs. It reeked with darkness as he pulled it open. Absently he realised the door could only be opened from the outside. Inside he found a school trunk. Then his eyes caught something written on the wall. “Harry’s Room” was written on the wall in what could only be blood. Shocked he looked around, finding a few broken toys and a crib mattress tucked away. Tom tried not to let his thoughts go where the evidence was pointing. No he could not pity the boy. He was here to finish what he started. Yes, he was sane again, and he should have never listened to that half a prophecy to begin with, but he had made it true by marking the boy. He couldn’t stop now. He quietly shut the door and moved up the stairs until he came to a door with seven padlocks on it and a pet flap at the bottom of it. He could practically see the darkness seeping out under the door. It was far heavier here and for once Voldemort was terrified to open a door. Steeling himself and waving a hand he proceeded to unlock all the locks and open the door. His eyes fell immediately upon the tiny bed in one corner. There stripped naked, limbs bent at entirely wrong angles, and wounds bleeding so much the bed was tinted red, was a young girl looking barely twelve. Glancing up the famous scar was still on her forehead. He needed answers, ones he would not get if she died. He pulled his wand and placed it to the mark on his own arm, calling to a very specific follower.

~A.L.A.H.P.~

Severus was lounging in his study at Hogwarts. It was just before bed and he was reading the newest potion journal and sipping on firewhiskey. He had his own research published in this issue, under a false name of course. This was why he loved summer. No students, and he could work on his research and even produce new formulae to patent. He was far wealthier than anyone knew thanks to several medical formulae he had perfected. He had just picked his tumbler up when a searing pain lanced through his left arm. He dropped the tumbler, cursing as he quickly threw on more appropriate robes and hurried out to the edge of Hogwarts’ wards. He quickly apparated straight to his lord and fell to his knees as soon as he arrived. “Get up Severus there is no time for this. I hope you brought potions or have access.” His head snapped up hearing emotions in the Dark Lord’s voice he never thought possible. Glancing around he realised he was in a tiny room in a place he did not recognise. “What was that smell? He wondered. “Move it Severus, Harry Potter is dying and not by my hand.” Severus’s head whipped up to stare at his master’s face only to find it staring elsewhere. He followed the glance until he beheld the sight on the bed. “This is a girl my lord.”

“Severus be glad I need you or I would be cursing your incompetence right now. Look at the scar. I don’t know how, but Harry is now the girl-who-lived and I would know why she changed and why she is dying.” Suddenly, both men froze as the girl coughed harshly, blood spraying from her mouth. Lily’s green eyes stared back at them barely focused. “T-tom, here to kill me. Just end it please!” Both men were shocked, but Severus was pushed to action as the girl's body went completely limp. He was pulling potion after potion out of his robe, which had a special pocket linked directly to his private stores. “My lord, I will do what I can but even a cursory glance tells me there are injuries here beyond my skills. We need to get the girl to Narcissa. Her healer training far outweighs my own.” Tom merely nodded and let Severus work. Severus eventually informed him he had done what he could and Tom scooped the girl up in his arms. He marvelled at how light she was and tried not to let his rage blind him. With that he Apparated directly to his room in Malfoy Manor, Severus right on his heels. “Tinky!” he yelled out. As the house elf appeared he was already giving instructions. “Go get Lady Malfoy and bring her here immediately.” With a pop the elf was gone and he laid the girl on his own bed. There was a pop and a shriek behind him. “Unhand me you loathsome...Oh my Lord, what is requested of me?” The Lady Malfoy was attempting to look less ruffled as she bowed. Suddenly, her eyes alighted on the bed and noticed the famous scar on a very female body. “My Lord, Severus, what has happened?” Tom spoke up, swallowing his anger. “All will be talked about, after we save her life. Severus did what he could.”

It took well into the morning, but finally Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. “She is out of the worst of the danger my Lord. There is much yet to be done to bring her to full health and she should really see the Goblins to find out the extent of what has been done. I cannot tell if her magic changed her to look this way or if this is her original form and she was held under some sort of potion or spell.”

#hp fanfic #harry potter #tomarry #genderswap #first chapter #wip

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blog-sliverofjade · 3 years

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Of Doms & Subs 9: Rock and a Hard Place

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary: What’s a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 1905

Of Doms & Subs Master List

Getting slammed by four hundred pounds, give or take, is painful no matter who you are. Being caught between this freight train of flesh and a stone wall, such as the one surrounding the grill setup, is taking the term “between a rock and a hard place” to its most agonizing extremes. Once the tweety birds spiraling my head dissipated, Alan and Mickayla filled my gradually returning vision. Angus stalked off to go bash some heads together, judging by his face.

“Anybody get the number o’ that Mac truck?” I groaned, my accent thick from the pain that was already setting in. Where’s shock when you could really use it?

“Can’t be too bad if she’s making bad jokes,” Mickayla said to Alan. Then to distract me from his poking and prodding, she said with a roll of her eyes towards where I assumed Ian and Gordon were. “They’re just like teenage boys when they’re trying to show off.”

“There’re easier ways o’ getting’ my attention. ‘Hey, you’ works fine.” I hissed through clenched teeth when Alan inspected my shoulder. “Dislocated, probably torn rotator.”

“Amongst other things,” he agreed mildly as he did something that should have been a violation of the Geneva Convention. “Couple of cracked ribs, mild concussion. Ever dislocated anything before?”

“Nope, but’s gonna hurt like a mother.”

Alan nodded to Mickayla and before I could react, they set the joint back in place with a sickening crunch. The world swam in a nauseous haze, but I didn’t pass out. Woo!

“Lemme know when I can return the favour,” I groaned. “In spades.”

“The rotator’ll heal on its own in about a week. Compared to months for a human.” Let’s hear it for regeneration. “But your scapula’s split, and even if your joint’s set, your shoulder’s still messed up.”

“That the medical term, doc?”

“Recovery will still take weeks. If you shift, you’ll heal faster.”

“No.” I shook my head too fast and the world wobbled.

“Tell me, is this normal?” Alan carefully lifted my right, injured arm. Around the blinding agony I dimly hard disturbing sounds that should be coming from a cereal bowl instead of a person.

“Fuck all ya’ll,” I panted when I could breathe again.

“No thanks,” he said blandly. “Cute as you are, I don’t want to fight the others over you. The longer you take to shift, the more you’ll heal wrong.” We both knew that improperly healed rotator cuffs are a bitch and can take a year or more of PT to correct. That’s not even taking into account complications from broken bones knitting without being set right. Logic and experience said that he was right. The only problem was that the wolf wanted to come out and play too much. And there were too many humans. Pain and panic, exacerbated by the wolf coming to the fore, paralyzed me till I could only shake my head faintly.

“Don’t make me use the Dommy voice,” Mickayla said sternly. I opened my eyes to let her see the fear that chilled me. Or maybe that was finally shock. Could werewolves go into shock?

A pair of familiar suede loafers stood at the edge of my vision. A moment later Angus crouched to fill my field of vision, which was threatening to narrow again. “Ellie, stop this nonsense and shift.” There was no power other than the natural force of his personality, but the order allowed me to stop worrying. His casual tone of authority reminded me that they would keep me from gorging on a human buffet instead of potato salad and burgers.

“Come on, you don’t need an audience for this.” Mickayla moved to help me up. Angus beat her to it, scooping me up in his arms so that my shattered shoulder wasn’t pressed against him. This unnatural strength still took me by surprise. Of all the places, he took me inside the house and downstairs where he set me on the edge of a bed. There were shining metal bars over the narrow windows set high in the wall. Pretty comfy digs for a cage.

“My safeword’s ‘apples’,” I panted as my body settled into its new position with no small amount of complaints.

“Good to know.” The dry bit of humour coming from Angus was so unexpected that I giggled and immediately regretted it when the motion rippled through my battered body. Alan and Mickayla helped me undress while Angus stood over us, a statue of controlled rage. I tried to protest the men’s presence, but was immediately shot down by all three. Resoundingly so.

“Please be gentle, it’s my first time,” I said tightly as they drew off my pants and underwear. You never realize how much you move any part of your body until it’s injured and you try to move it. Once I was naked, that was when I freaked out. “I can’t.”

“Sshh,” Angus said soothingly as he carefully held me against his chest. It was like a warm brick wall, but far more comfortable than the one I’d just been introduced to. My mind and hormones swung back and forth between embarrassment and pleasure at being naked in his arms until I sensed Alan crouching on the bed behind me. Damn, he still had to set the shoulder blade. I didn’t even have time to tense before his deft, quick hands crunched the pieces back into place.

After awhile I realized that Angus was saying my name and stroking my hair. “To shift you have to let the wolf take over. You’ll not likely have control, nor will you be able to change back for several hours. We’re going to have to lock you in so you don’t hurt anyone, or yourself.”

So many things had been spinning out of my control I wasn’t ready to relinquish any of it. But the wolf didn’t care. She wanted to come out and meet Angus and the pack. The instant I seriously thought about passing off the reins she seized the chance. I quickly closed my eyes not only because it hurt like a bitch, even worse than my short lived career as a wrecking ball, but because I couldn’t stand watching my own flesh ripple as muscle and bone crunched and reformed. I almost wondered if letting everything heal relatively slowly wouldn’t have been preferable.

They were making soothing noises and urging me to be quiet at first, then they realized I was cursing under my breath in between soft whimpers and whines. “Son of a mother biscuit eating cracker” made them laugh. You can’t curse in front of patients, even if they’re coding. Instead you get creative with alternatives to four letter words. At some point the torture ended and everything went black.

“What were you thinking?” To an outsider, my voice would be deceptively soft. Ian and Gordon, as did the rest of the pack, knew better. The two males knelt with heads bowed and necks bared. My wolf wanted to rend that soft flesh. They were dirty and still battered from when they were separated with more force than was strictly necessary, but was entirely appropriate. “I’ve known newly Changed wolves with better self-control than what you displayed today. If you had hit Moira instead, she could’ve lost full use of that arm.” They winced as my voice sharpened and cracked across them like a whip.

“Because of your stupidity, Ellie is undergoing her first intentional shift locked in the safe room after everything I’ve done to disprove the half-truths that crazy Lone fed her.” I leaned in close and whispered, “If she chooses to leave because of your idiocy, I’ll take it very personally.” Their already white faces blanched even further before I straightened.

“You will beg Ellie for forgiveness. You are her slaves for the next week. You are not to look her in the eye. I don’t want to see her lift anything heavier than a glass of water. If she asks you to jump, one asks how high and the other holds the hoop. You will wash, dry, iron, fold her laundry, and shine her shoes. You have one week to arrange for repairs to the barbecue. For the rest of the weekend, the two of you are on cooking and dish duties. The pack cars, Ellie’s Jeep, and my car could all use detailing. Oh, and I expect the house and grounds to be spotless by the end of the weekend.” They’d be so busy they wouldn’t have the time nor the energy to lose their heads again. And by working their tails off, everyone would be reminded that this was a warning for anyone else who might do the same.

“If the rest of you find yourselves at the mercy of your instincts, you will take it elsewhere and handle it in the usual fashion. If not, then you are a liability and will be dealt with accordingly.” I glared expectantly at the two boys, who were old enough to know better. They quickly muttered, “Yes, Alpha” before scrambling to their feet and scattering for one of the many tasks given. I desperately wanted to give chase and slaughter them for injuring what was mine.

I gave a brief nod to Tom, who acknowledged with a bow from the neck before herding everyone inside. Once everyone was gone, I stared at the broken bricks and patio stained with Ellie’s blood until Ian and Gordon approached hesitantly with a hose, soap, and stiff bristled brushes. I snarled at them as I strode back towards the house.

Alan was sitting in the armchair outside the safe room. A man with an impossibly large sword faced a dragon on the corner of the paperback he was reading. Only the delusional would fight something like that with a melee weapon. The alleged “hero” would be barbecue before he got close enough to swing that tool of overcompensation.

“Hey.” He set down the book and sat up from his slouch. “Passed out still, but she’ll be fine as long as she doesn’t hurt it again any time soon.”

“Thanks. Go on up. I’ll sit with her.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair and touched my pocket to ensure that my phone was there. Nervous habits that I’d never quite managed to shed.

“Sure thing.” Alan looked like he would offer to stay until he saw my expression. “Too bad they couldn’t spare the brain cells if you knocked their heads together.”

I smiled despite my murderous mood. That was the magic of a submissive, although I never felt calm around Ellie. Frustrated, annoyed, fiercely protective, half-crazed, yes. At peace, no. Then again, she had yet to feel entirely safe or comfortable since the Change.

“Alan.” He paused on the stairs. “Have Ian and Gordon bring down meat and water.”

“Aye, aye.” He’d been spending far too much time with Mickayla.

I settled into the chair and picked up the dog-eared novel he left behind. The main character had barely finished his backstory when Tweedledee and Tweedledumb placed their offerings in the safe room before locking it back up. Ian set a cup of coffee, two cream, on the small table beside me before slinking away. They stank of fear. Good.

The handsome, virile Chosen One had just met the feisty ingénue, who was of course a princess in hiding, when Ellie woke up.

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fixxofvixx · 4 years

Text

POSSESSION - TAEKWOON AU - CHAPTER 8

I'm here again with another update~ I hope y'all don't mind! This time it's our sweet, fire-wielding demon hunter~

We'll have some lovey-dovey stuff coming up soon~ Who am I to deny our lead couple a smooch or two? That will be coming soon~

Anyway, let me know what you think! Enjoy!!

🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰🏰

"Get some sleep and I'll answer your questions tomorrow."

You sighed and started to walk out of the room. As you got to the door, you turned back to him.

"Leo," he looked up in surprise but gestured for you to continue, "would you.....um....you know before you said you could...."

"Help you sleep?"

"Yes."

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

Leo followed you to the bedroom. The closer you got to the room, the more your hands shook. You blamed the adrenaline coursing through you as a result of the whirlwind day you'd had. But in the back of your mind, you knew that a good part of it was because of the man silently walking behind you. Perhaps you had asked Leo to help you in a rash decision.

You stepped inside the bedroom and then abruptly turned. Leo was closer behind you than you'd thought and now you were standing less than a foot from him. You panicked and backpedaled only to trip over the rug that lay out on the floor. Leo quickly reached for you to keep you from falling. One hand shot out and caught your arm. Another hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you upwards and keep you on your feet. His actions brought your body flush against his. You stared at him in shock for a second or two before he spoke.

"Are you okay?"

"I....."

"Y/N?"

His voice, now louder to grasp you attention, finally broke your spell and you gasped, hastily removing his hands from your body. You backed up a bit more and busied yourself straightening your skirt.

"I apologize for grabbing you but I didn't want you to injure yourself further by falling." Leo didn't move from his spot and let his hands fall to his sides.

"I-It's fine. It's just with everything that happened today and especially just now......I'm a little on edge."

"Yes, more so than usual."

"What?"

"You usually are on edge around me." He crossed his arms over his chest and your cheeks flushed. Well, you supposed he was right. "I believe you wanted me to help you sleep?"

"No! I....I mean, I think I will be fine. There is no need." You lowered your gaze to the floor and bit your lip in an attempt to quell your anxiety.

"What happened in the last five minutes to change your mind? I thought we were doing better." If you heard correctly, it actually sounded as if he was disappointed.

"I just....."

"I did it before and no harm came to you. It would be the same."

"I know. But with everything going on, maybe now isn't the time. We need to figure out how to get Hongbin back and Ken is still unconscious. There is also the man who attacked us earlier."

"If you want to use those things as an excuse, then fine. I will abide by your wishes. But I think you will find, for all the reasons you just listed, you will have trouble sleeping tonight. We can't do anything right now with everyone recovering. Hongbin might be taken but he is too valuable for them to harm, so he is safe. We need to make sure we are at full strength before planning a rescue. Ken will sleep for the night, as will the rest of us."

Leo's words were wise and correct. You also doubted that you would be able to sleep tonight.

"Last time......"

"Yes?"

"Last time I woke after you put me to sleep, I'd suffered a nightmare and saw you as a demon. I...I don't want that again." Being honest with him was just as difficult as lying. You didn't want him to know your thoughts for some reason.

"I understand your reluctance but last time you were still under the influence of the red snake poison. It was the poison that caused the hallucination, not me. I can promise that I can put you in a deep enough sleep that you will not dream. We can work on fixing the nightmares later."

"I...." Why was this so hard? "Alright.....if you are certain. Should I just lie down or....?"

"Are you planning to sleep in that?" He gestured towards your clothing and you looked down to see how much of a mess they were. Torn and blood-stained was definitely not appropriate sleeping attire.

"Oh! Oh, dear..."

"I will step outside. Knock on the door when you are ready." Leo silently walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

You quickly went to your clothing to sort out what to sleep in. You took care of everything and then went to stand in front of the door. The easy part was over. Now you had to let him back in. Would he still even be out there? It seemed to you that much time had passed. Taking a deep breath you reached forward and unlocked the door. Opening it revealed Leo leaning up against the wall opposite the door. His arms were linked over his chest and his long legs were crossed at his ankles. When he looked up, you noticed his face looked tired and worried. In an instant, the look was gone, replaced with his usual stone facade.

"Ready?" You nodded at his words, unable to create a sentence. That look on his face was etched into your mind.

You walked over to your bed and climbed in.

"What do I need to do?"

"Absolutely nothing. Just lie back and get comfortable." He waited until you settled in and then reached forward. Before he touched you, you stopped him.

"Wait! How long will I sleep for? What if something happens? Or if someone needs me?"

"I can put you under for any amount of hours that you would like. However, if something happens, I can bring you back." He brought his hand up to your temple as he had done before. He hesitated and looked at you to make sure you were ready. When you nodded he continued.

"Sleep." He touched your temple and instantly you were under.

Leo didn't move for a while. He simply sat next to you on your bed, listening to your rhythmic breathing. Your face was devoid of worry and fear now. He had every intention of letting you sleep for several hours. He pulled the large blanket up to your shoulders careful not to touch the new wound you now carried.

"I'm surprised she let you do it." Hakyeon's voice softly called from the door.

"As am I." Leo turned to his oldest friend but still didn't leave your side.

"She seems to trust you more now."

"She still fears me."

"She is still getting to know you. Give her time. Look at how far you both have come already. I predict soon she will be as smitten with you just as much as you are with her."

"Hakyeon..."

"Fear not, old friend, I will not speak a word of it to her. Although your actions make it fairly obvious. Even to outsiders." Leo knew who Hakyeon was speaking of.

"Did you ban him?" He worked hard to quiet the rage within himself.

"Yes, of course. I never thought I would have to but I suppose the rumors are true."

"If he comes near her again, I will not hesitate to end his life."

"Yes, I am aware of that. But you can't let rage guide your actions. That's the path he went. If you do, I fear you will only succeed in pushing her farther away. Let her be your anchor."

"She already is."

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

"Y/N?" You felt something touch the side of your head as you struggled to climb out of the fog of sleep.

Something touched your face again and you jumped, fully aware that someone was hovering over you. You opened your eyes to see Leo standing next to your bed.

"It's only me."

Surprisingly, your heart settled when you saw that it was Leo.

"Did I sleep too long?" You rose to a sitting position and rubbed your hands over your face to help wake yourself up.

"No, you've been out for about 6 hours or so. But, Hakyeon detected some demons loitering around the grounds and I wanted you to be awake in case we needed to move quickly."

"Oh! Alright, I'll get up." You threw off your covers and stood quickly. You only made it a couple of steps before your world started spinning.

"Y/N!" Leo caught you before you hit the floor. He stood there with you in his arms until you gathered your senses. "I'm sorry, I should have told you not to move too quickly after I put you to sleep."

"That's alright. I should have waited for a moment before getting up. Thank you for catching me."

"Of course." Leo tightened his arms around you and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped but breathed a silent sigh of relief when he placed you back on your bed. Once you stayed upright he released you.

"Now that this wonderful moment is over, I must insist that you both come with me."

The voice that belonged to the man who caused your now sore shoulder last night spoke from the corner in your room. Before you or Leo could react, a thick white smoke filled the air. Just before the smoke reached you, Leo grabbed you again and held you tight against him. You closed your eyes when the smoke caused you to be dizzy. You could still feel Leo beside you. You held on to him as tight as you could. You buried your head into his chest and tried not to pass out.

"Y/N....y/n? Are you okay?" Leo's voice reached your ears and you took a chance to open your eyes. What you saw around you was only stone walls. You raised your head and found yourself in a stone room. There was a door to the far side but there was no door knob. It was too dark to make everything out and it was getting cold.

"Where are we?" You reluctantly let go of Leo, although you really wanted to stay close.

"I'm not su--"

"Welcome to my home. Well, the basement anyway." The voice of the man who had appeared in your room was now standing in front of the door you had seen moments ago. Leo grabbed your hand and pulled you to stand behind him.

"Dammit, Alek, what in the hell are you up to?"

"Just a bit of an adventure. We all used to enjoy our adventures, right?"

"Yes, until you betrayed us and almost got us all killed. How the hell did you get back into the house? Hakyeon banned you."

"I never left. I have to be out of the house in order for you to bar my entrance again, don't I? You failed to thoroughly check the house before you tended to your lovely charge here." The man named Alek looked at you now. "Did you know you are very beautiful when you sleep?"

"You were in my room?! What is wrong with you?!" You were livid. How dare he!

"That is a loaded question, my dear. Now, I have a couple of things to take care of. You both make yourselves at home and I will return later."

"Wait!" You stepped around Leo and yelled after the man but he had disappeared. You turned back to Leo but he was calmly inspecting the cell. "How are you so calm about this?!"

"This isn't my first encounter with being abducted."

"So, what do we do? I'm guessing you can't teleport like him?" You crossed your arms over your stomach in an effort to keep yourself warm.

"No, I haven't mastered that ability yet." He looked disappointed in himself and you instantly felt guilty for asking.

"Well, you still have more than me. I can only patch up wounds."

"Which is a respectable ability."

"Says the man who can launch fire balls." You sent a half smile in his direction and he returned it. Feeling a bit calmer due to Leo's relaxed state you began searching around the room.

You immediately tried to push open the doors. There were no door knobs but it felt like it was locked. Which didn't surprise you. You sighed and walked back over to the side where Leo was at.

"I don't suppose you have some special ability to blow a hole in the wall, do you?"

"No, unfortunately, I don't."

You turned and sat down on the bench that sat against the wall opposite of the door. You wrapped your arms around yourself, attempting to ignore the increasing cold. You jumped when you saw a flame erupt before your eyes. It grew on the floor until a blazing fire stood before you about 2 feet tall. Waves of heat wafted towards you. You looked up at Leo and smiled.

"Thank you."

"You looked cold. It won't burn you, so you can get as close as you like." You stretched your arms out towards the flame, enjoying its warmth.

"Who is that man?" You were planning on asking today anyway, just not in a cell in that man's basement. Leo sighed and began pacing within the cell. He touched the walls looking for ways to get out as he talked.

"He used to be one of us. We used to be seven. But, he became consumed with anger and hatred. He began making deals with demons to get what he wanted. He was too driven by his own agenda and greed. One day, he lured us into a trap. He told us it was to rid a town of a demon presence but he was really using us as a trade. We barely got out of there. We were injured so badly that we sought out a local healer to help us."

"What?" You stared at Leo in shock. "It was because of that when you came to my house asking for help?"

Leo nodded, continuing his search around the room.

"See? I actually helped you meet? Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Once you heard Alek's voice you rose from your seat at the bench and met Leo on the other side who was already making his way towards you.

"Kidnapping doesn't exactly put me in a thankful mood." You glared at the man and then smirked when you noticed the red stained bandage wrapped around his leg. He followed your gaze and anger took over his features.

"Proud of yourself?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am."

In an instant, the man disappeared and before you realized, you were pushed up against the wall with Alek's hand circling your neck. He squeezed slightly and held you up to where your feet barely touched the ground.

"Alek, you psychotic son of a bitch, let her go!" You saw Leo advance on Alek but he was stopped by what seemed like an invisible wall. He pounded on it repeatedly, hoping to break through.

You pulled at Alek's hand around your throat desperately tried to free yourself. You kicked your legs wildly, hoping to strike him hard enough for him to let you go.

"Stop moving!" Alek yelled into your ear and you flinched, closing your eyes in fear. You obeyed, stilling your body but he didn't release you.

"You've got fire, I'll give you that." You looked back at Leo still trying to break through the invisible wall. "But it would seem that your fire dies out when our dear Leo is in your presence. Now, why is that?"

You looked at Leo who was preoccupied with the wall. You shook your head, not trusting your voice.

"Don't try to deny it. Don't forget I saw you last night. You were full of fight when you drove that dagger into my leg but by the time you made it back to your room, you turned into a nervous, scared girl. What has my dear Leo done to you?"

"H-He's not......y-yours." You sent the man a look of pure hatred. You suddenly felt an overwhelming need to defend Leo.

"Then, is he yours?"

"No."

"Hmmm, somehow, I don't believe that." He smiled and you caught a strange smell coming from his breath. You knew that smell buf you just couldn't place it.

Finally, Alek released you and you fell to the floor, coughing. At the same time, the wall separating you and Leo vanished and he immediately rushed to your side. You looked up to see Alek on the other side. He laughed for a few seconds before vanishing into thin air once again.

#vixx #taekwoon fic #taekwoon au #leo au #vixx au #vixx fic

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hoodoo12 · 4 years

Text

Chapter 9/15 SFW

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

@turtlepated @anyamercury @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice

Next morning, bright and early with the sunrise, she was back with a new book under her arm. She was eating a piece of toast, and shoved the last of the crust into her mouth as she entered. She wiped her lips with her thumb, and he was oddly ashamed that he watched that gesture with much interest.

"Oh! Do you want something to eat?" she asked by way of greeting, like she was a thoughtless hostess and this was a perfectly normal situation. "Do you need to eat?"

Beetlejuice, who had spent the rest of the night alone trying to understand why his thoughts had gone to different sexual scenarios he could engage in with her instead of a rage that should have been more appropriate, shook his head.

He'd sort through the thorny mess of his libido some other time, he had decided. Lisette was trying to figure him out; he would do the same to her. Time would tell who would win this stalemate.

"I can, but I don't," he replied. "It's been years since I had a cigarette, though. You got any?"

She looked surprised he answered her as if it were a real conversation, like they were buddies. Beetlejuice waited for a moment, then made a circling motion with one hand to indicate he was waiting for an expecting a response.

"Uh . . no. I don’t."

"Of fucking course you don’t. Nobody smokes anymore," he muttered, disappointed.

She tapped her forefinger on her chin for a moment, then left the room, leaving the door open.

He’d been left in isolation again so quickly? Beetlejuice once again heard her rummaging through the kitchen, then there was silence. After minutes passed, she came back up the stairs. The treads and the floorboards in the hallway creaked with each footstep, and then she was back in the bedroom with him. She was holding something, and in the crook of her arm was one of the stainless steel canisters from under the cabinets in the kitchen.

“I don’t have any cigarettes,” she told him again, sounding apologetic. “Can you roll your own?”

Beetlejuice cocked his head in confusion. She held out her hands; in one was a box of stick matches, in the other, a cardboard box of rolling papers. She opened the small canister to show him dried, shredded leaves inside. The faint scent of tobacco wafted to him.

“You don’t have cigarettes but you have the stuff to make cigarettes?” he asked drily. Lisette shrugged. “The tobacco can be used in different rituals. The matches are just matches. The rolling paper . . . well, I didn’t buy it for tobacco, specifically.”

Despite himself, Beetlejuice laughed. “You’ve got a stolen forbidden book, you’ve captured me, and you’re embarrassed to say out loud you smoke weed?”

A blush crept over her cheeks and she laughed too. “Yeah. I guess. Marijuana is legal in Connecticut for medical purposes, but not just for fun. Would you prefer that instead of tobacco?”

The thought of a joint instead of a cigarette was tempting; it’d been even longer since he’d taken a hit than simply had a smoke. It would be simple and innocent enough to light one up, and offer her a toke, like people do, and maybe she’d accidently break the barrier . . .

“You wanna join me?” Beetlejuice asked.

Lisette shook her head. “No thanks. Too early in the day for me.”

He hid his disappointment and filed that information away for later. “Cigarette it is, then.”

With no further hesitation, Lisette tossed him the supplies one at a time, the canister, then the small box of rolling papers. As for the matches, she removed all but one from the box before passing it along. Each of them passed over the chalk inscriptions with no problem, which was interesting tidbit of information: things could enter the circle, he just couldn’t leave. Beetlejuice caught them all, and occupied himself with the task of making his own cigarette.

It had been a while since he had, so it took a little time for the proper technique to come back to him. As he struggled a bit getting the paper tight enough around the tobacco, he groused, “If you’re used to rolling joints, why didn’t you just make a cigarette for me and throw that into this prison?”

Lisette looked a little surprised, as if that hadn't occurred to her, but answered, “You didn’t ask!”

He gave her a look that conveyed his exact thoughts on that amount of pettiness, then licked the free edge of the paper standing upright between his fingers and pressed it down. It was slightly looser than he would have liked and it had a shitty crutch he made out of the thin cardboard he found in the box of rolling papers instead of a real filter, but a smoke after who knows how many years was a treat anyway. Beetlejuice lit the match by flicking it against his thumbnail, and once the end of the cigarette was going, stuck it in his mouth. His first inhale of a corporeal cigarette in ages was bitter and hot.

It was great.

Beetlejuice let himself be lost in the physical act of smoking for a moment. It suddenly hit him that not only had this breather said his name twice, drawing him three-quarters into the living world, but whatever arcane techinque she used to keep him in this circle made that three-quarters last longer than it ever had before. This situation wasn’t perfect, but that was a nice little bonus.

Lisette sat quietly with her skirt hiked up passed her knees. Idly he wondered if she was wearing any panties. Beetlejuice kept a lungful of smoke in longer than would be comfortable, then let it out in a stream that twisted a little like a Sandworm. That trick usually made a breather nervous, since it looked a little alive, but the woman near the wall didn’t react to it.

Instead, she went back to her books, flipping through pages, leaving them open on the floor, writing notes in her journal, and cross-referencing things. Beetlejuice watched her research and wondered to himself what exactly she was thinking.

After his cigarette was gone and she was still absorbed in her books, he asked,

“Figured anything out yet?”

She glanced up at him with an annoyed expression pinching her face. “No.”

He scooted along the floor to be closer to her. The chalk circle she’d drawn was four inches wide, so with her leaning against the wall by the door, her knees were less than a foot away from him. He could reach out and grab her, if this barrier was down.

Beetlejuice craned his head to try and read the books upside down.

“Is that a Bible?” “Yes,” she replied, distracted, as she continued to scribble.

“Would I be able to touch it?”

She finally looked up, genuinely confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

He nodded towards the other books. “I couldn’t quite touch those two. Earlier. When I, uh, wrecked your room.”

Lisette stared at him blankly for a moment before she understood. “Oh. Right! They have wards on them to prevent non-human or non-living beings from interacting with them. Safety precautions, you know. Of course, that doesn’t really help me narrow down ghost versus demon in your case . . .”

She let her voice trail off, then went back to the Bible she’d been perusing. Beetlejuice let her have a few more moments, then just as she was settling back into her work, he interrupted.

“Which version of the Bible do you have? Is it both Old and New Testament? Do you have a Qur’an? The Torah? The Codex Seraphinianus? The Voynich Manuscript?”

Lisette returned the look he’d given her earlier: irked. “Why are you asking?”

He shrugged. “Just wondering exactly what you’re using to try and decipher the riddle wrapped in an enigma that is me.”

“With a head that big I’m surprised you made it through the doorframe into this room,” she replied drily. “Of course, you were going full steam. All because I said your name. Interesting.”

Beetlejuice scowled a little, hating to be reminded how desperate he’d been. He let silence fill the room for a few beats. She broke the quiet before he did this time.

“You mentioned Al Azif. Not many other texts have information about shoggoths in them. Have you read it? Did you just randomly pick a name from the book? What’s the connection between it, them, and you?”

“Maybe Alhazred named shoggoths after me,” Beetlejuice suggested.

That made her furrow her brow for a moment, but eventually she shook her head. “No, I only know one account of a shoggoth taking human form.” Even though his lie was dismissed, he saw by the expression on her face some new thought had come to her. Her eyes found his, and excited, she asked, “Were you there when Alhazred wrote it?”

“Maybe,” Beetlejuice hedged. He couldn’t decide if letting her know his age would be a problem.

“Interesting . . .” Lisette repeated, and dropped her eyes back to her journal to write a note. Her mouth moved a little as she did, and it was vaguely similar to the times he saw her praying.

“So you’re pretty devoted, huh?”

Confusion and harder thinking looked the same on her face. “What?”

“You pray a lot. Devoted Catholic, right?” he guessed. Two could play at taking stabs at the other’s truths.

“My grandmother was Catholic, but I wasn’t raised anything,” Lisette admitted.

“Then what are you praying?”

“What? I’m not praying, I’m just talking to myself!”

For some reason, that admission made Beetlejuice laugh out loud. “Jesus. I’ve been alone for forever it seems, and even I don’t do that!”

Lisette looked slightly offended, which made him laugh harder.

“Whatever,” she told him, but it was good to see something needled her.

tbc

#beetlejuice #betelguese #writing #fanfiction #movie beetlejuice #musical beetlejuice

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we-love-the-murder-bois · 5 years

Text

Male Yautja x smol but feisty male! S/o

(I loved this! It took a little bit of reworking, but I think I'm happy with this. Thanks for the ask!)

“As a human, would other Yautja be more willing to challenge my claim on you?” Y/n asked as he looked out the window in his mate’s hab. They had arrived hours before and y/n was nervous to meet his boyfriends people.

The Yautja were a large and clever species, they put the humans to shame technologically as well as instinctually. He was inferior to them, even if his mate was one of them. He would be treated as an equal legally, being recognized as the mate of a warrior, but he was still an outsider. To many, he was probably prey.

He was more worried about his mate, however. He had met and charmed his mate by chance, eventually being courted and taken as a mate by the alien. He loved his Yautja, but he knew his species was inferior, and that made his mind wander. There would by plenty of admirable Yautja around, what if his Yautja found a better mate in his own species?

No. Y/n wouldn’t let that happen. He may be short and weak to the Yautja’s standards, even to human standards, but he had a fighting spirit. It wasn’t like just any average human was mated to a warrior Yautja, and he would prove that he was a worthy mate.

His Yautja was exploring and rearranging his hab, trying to make it more suitable for his much smaller mate. Y/n would have been fine, but his Yautja liked everything to be perfect, so he let the alien do what he needed.

He heard clicking and growls from across the room. He was able to roughly translate on his own, but his mate had given y/n a translator so that it would be easier. From his ear, he heard the translation come through.

“They may, but our bond is recognized still. I will not allow any formal challenge, for either of us.”

Y/n turned around in surprise, leaning back against the glass. “Either of us? You think another Yautja would want me?” He was weak and tiny, but also had the mouth of a sailor and a real temper if you ticked him off. He wasn’t great mate material.

He heard his Yautja huff in disappointment, crossing the hab to kneel before his mate. It was a sign of submission, and it never failed to make y/n feel proud.

“Of course. I courted you for your wonderful humor and charm, but the people here see you as exotic and rare. They would want you, but not for the right reasons.” The translator monotoned over the soulful clicks and growls. Y/n smiled, dancing his fingers down the Yautja’s broad head and strong jaw.

They sat in silence for a bit, y/n listening to his Yautja purr as he planned. Eventually they had to leave the hab and face the world. Despite the worry of competition, y/n was excited to see his boyfriend’s world. (Was it boyfriend or husband? Y/n had no idea which was more appropriate, so he just fell back on human custom.)

The world was marvelous, but y/n spent a large amount of the time with his back straight and shoulders square, observing the observers. There were plenty of observers, peering through windows or stopping on the street to stare at the interspecies couple.

Y/n was always first to growl when they stared too long, an angry sound welling in his chest. With their great hearing, the offenders heard and usually quickly looked away. If they didn’t, His Yautja would start his own warning growl. That usually did the trick.

It was relatively smooth sailing until they retired to a restaurant-esque outlet filled with Yautja and a few other aliens. Immediately y/n felt their eyes, shoulders stiffening in discomfort. He didn’t growl yet, just huffed and let his boyfriend find a place to sit.

His mate was an admirable warrior, proudly boasting scars and wearing his warrior dressings. Y/n looked feeble compared to him, rocking a hoodie over an annoyingly sleek exosuit. He did have a plasma rifle slung across his back and he knew how to use it, but still, they were an odd pairing.

While his mate took care of getting them something to drink, one that preferably wouldn’t kill y/n, he noticed a younger Yautja paying a little too much attention to his mate.

Yautja wanting to mate or court other Yautja was a deeply cultural affair. Mating was more feral and rough, showing each other’s prowess and ability, while courting was a slower process based on the ability to provide and be a good mate for the long run.

Y/n had spent many nights pouring over Yautjan documents about their mating rituals and instincts, wanting to learn everything he could to be a good mate. He knew the subtle signs well, and immediately was angry when the young Yautja was displaying them. Y/n’s Yautja wasn’t responding at all, but Y/n still felt righteously possessive.

The full out snarled when the young Yautja followed his mate back to their area, still trying to get his attention. The snarl wasn’t quiet, and the smell of the humans anger was bitter, warning those nearby. The Yautja challenger didn’t seem to notice or care though, and that really pissed y/n off.

He stood, gliding over to the side of his Yautja, teeth bared in a sneer. He knew how to show the signs of aggression in Yautja body language, it wasn’t too far from most predators. Show your teeth, direct eye contact, make yourself look big, don’t look away.

The young warrior looked him over, mandibles waving. Y/n’s shoulders tensed as the challenger snarled, but it wasn’t from fear. He knew he smelled like rage, he wanted them to know he wasn’t frightened. He felt his Yautja’s firm hand rest against his back, letting him be in control and do what he needed to do.

Knowing that he couldn’t match in the physical department or be a match in a fight, y/n used the tool that he did have, his mate’s affection.

Making direct eye contact with the challenger, Y/n reached his hand up to his mate. In front of everybody he wrapped his slender fingers around his mate’s dreadlock, giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

It was such a possessive and intimate gesture, like blatantly groping someone in public, but it definitely did the trick. Those around immediately looked away in either embarrassment or acknowledgement.

“Mine. Back the fuck off.” Y/n snarled in his best Yautjan.

The fact that his mate, a great warrior, was allowing this tiny human to do such a thing spoke in volumes. Reluctantly, the young challenger backed down, still lightly growling at the small human’s victory.

Y/n slowly let go of the dread, leaning against his mate.

“Let’s get those to go.” His Yautja immediately agreed, making y/n smile. He knew exactly what grabbing a Yautja’s dreadlock did to them, so bonus.

Y/n walked proudly the whole way back to the Hab.

#predator x reader #yautja x reader #Predator imagine #slasher imagine #slashers x reader #Predators

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