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navybrat817 · 2 years

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Lay Me Down

Pairing: Vampire Mob!Bucky Barnes x Gifted!Female Reader Summary: You look to the past and future on your last night as a human. Word Count: Over 3.6k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, swearing, possessive behavior, slight fluff, slight angst, mentions of violence, blood, and death, some world building (is that a warning?), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: @buckysdollforlife suggested vampire mob!Bucky to me after sharing a photo. With the encouragement of @jobean12-blog and @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky , I ran with it and created THIS! Thanks to @dreamlessinparis and @sgt-seabass for listening and spitballing, along with @sweeterthanthis who also provided me with a delicious prompt near the end (we'll see it in the next part). Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard and banner by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

Staring out the window at the city lights, you wondered how many were blissfully unaware of those who roamed in the shadows. They should consider themselves lucky. Peace existed between humans and supernatural creatures, but for a price. Clans and packs around the world required payment to keep the peace. Tomorrow, the Barnes clan will come to collect.

The leader, James, affectionately nicknamed Bucky, didn’t ask for money or power. He had more than enough to survive long after most would leave this world. There was only one thing he demanded to continue protecting the eastern territory: you.

While clans and packs flourished, there had to be balance. Humanity and light needed to exist. Your father came from a powerful line with their own set of gifts and he often acted as a mediator between the families.

He expected that someone would eventually lay claim to you, as much as he tried to shield you from his associates.

Special in your own way thanks to your blood.

"Be thankful it's the Barnes family."

You did consider yourself somewhat lucky. Your mom explained becoming a vampire was an honor and you would still be you at your core after the ceremony. While the marriage appeared to be transactional with Bucky gaining the use of your gifts, your husband-to-be did love you.

You would know if he didn't.

"Your family will still thrive while you're in my care."

"And I'll be bound to you forever, James."

"Since we're in love and have an eternity awaiting us, I think it's time you call me Bucky."

A girl could do worse than Bucky Barnes.

You closed the curtain after a minute. Between the guards outside of your door and across the street keeping an eye on the building, you knew that you were safe for the night. Your phone got your attention as you crossed the room, recognizing the ringtone. "Hey, Bucky."

"You should be asleep, darling."

His face shimmered in your mind as the rich timbre of his voice filled your ears. Glacier-blue eyes framed by long lashes. Sharp cheekbones and a jaw peppered with stubble to match his lush, dark brown hair. He trimmed it recently, but it was still long enough to sweep back.

Masculine. Attractive. Beautiful.

Everything most would expect from a vampire.

"Then why did you call me?" you asked, sitting on the bed.

He chuckled. "Because I hoped you'd be awake. You rushed off after the rehearsal and I wanted to check on you. I think everyone was a bit worried."

You sighed, letting your mental walls down long enough for your family to sense that you were okay. You hadn't meant to leave so abruptly, but you couldn't stay. The rehearsal reminded you that you'd no longer be human after tonight. Instead, your body would no longer age while your loved ones would grow old and pass on.

Your parents. Your little brother. In a way, your wedding would be the beginning of letting them go.

Peace always comes with a price.

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to worry any of you. I'll apologize to my family tomorrow."

Your dad insisted, no matter what, that you ate breakfast as a family. It would be your last meal with them. You would have to appreciate every bite and flavor of your favorite foods.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Bucky asked.

"No," you whispered. You wouldn't do that to him or your family. "Just wondering if you'll get sick of me after a century or if it'll only take a decade."

"I won't get sick of you. Ever."

He spoke the truth.

"Forever is a long time," you said, wiping an unexpected tear from the corner of your eye.

"It is. Is it selfish that I don't want to spend it alone?"

"No. I think it's only natural that you want someone to share it with after everything," you said.

Bucky had been through enough horrors to last a lifetime. Being the last of his bloodline after the slaughter of his family, he managed to rebuild his clan from dust and rise up in the ranks. It wasn't enough, as those in power often found. He craved companionship to chase the demons away.

A mate.

"Are you having second thoughts?" you asked. "You could have chosen Dolores as your bride or someone from another clan."

Some vampires had multiple partners, but Bucky wasn't one of them. His love didn't waver or wander. He devoted himself to you and would continue to do so in marriage.

"I don't want Dolores or another bride," he told you, not hiding the slight anger in his voice that you dared suggest that he would want anyone besides you.

"I just know some aren't happy that you chose a human as your mate."

You weren't naive. Just because Bucky planned to turn you didn't mean all of the pure blood clans liked the idea of a human becoming one of them. Or that the Rogers clan offered to protect your dad's territory, too. In their eyes, you were weak. Even with your gifts.

No one would dare make an attempt on your life on your wedding day at the risk of starting a war, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't try later. That was only the vampires. The wolves were a different story.

Loving Bucky is easy, but that didn't mean the road ahead would always be smooth.

"You and I are happy. That's what matters. I will keep you safe," he said, leaving no room to argue.

"I know you will. Turning me will make me stronger, too, so we'll keep each other safe. Remember that," you reminded him.

"Like you'd let me forget," he said fondly. "I saw your protective streak the moment we met and I knew I wanted to share forever with you. Do you remember that day?"

"I do. You planned to kill my dad."

You remembered that day well.

You stood outside your father’s office door once you pushed past the guards, ignoring their warnings that he was in an important meeting. They knew better than to argue with you and didn’t sense the danger lurking feet away. They should have. If your dad wasn’t careful, this conversation would be his last. You couldn’t let that happen.

"It's out of respect for you that I came here alone today, but you're trying my patience," a deep voice spoke to your father.

You shook your head, telling yourself not to let the hypnotic tone distract you.

"I have no information for you, James. I'm sorry."

You gasped. There wasn't a soul who didn't know who James Barnes was. Though he was a close associate of your father, he never laid eyes on you. Your dad didn't let any of his associates see you.

"Alexander Pierce was killed after meeting with you and you received a large portion of his shares. And then you don't show when we call an emergency council session. The same session where an assassin tried to take Steve and I out with wooden bullets."

Steve Rogers, best friend to James. Another powerful vampire and name most feared. He was kind to your father from what you heard and a man of honor.

"Alexander wasn't a good man and I didn't want to do business with him, but I didn't kill him or have him killed. His money means nothing to me. And I had nothing to do with the attack on you or Steve. Why would I do such a thing?”

“My men haven't found evidence against anyone else. And in all the time I've known you, you haven't missed a meeting. Ever."

It was your fault he missed the meeting.

"Your clan has been generous to my businesses for years," your dad reminded him. "Believe me when I say I’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by going against you and Steve."

“I want to believe you, I do, but I have to take action. You understand."

You stiffened before you yanked the door open and rushed inside. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“Where the hell are the guards?" your dad asked, his eyes wide as he stood up from his desk chair. "You shouldn't be here. Get out. Now!"

He was never afraid.

The man across from him slowly rose to his feet. With his tall, broad build, he could’ve been mistaken for a wolf. Even with his back toward you, you sensed his power. You shivered when he turned his head toward you, his eyes the coldest you had ever seen.

How could someone carry death in a stare?

“You must be the daughter.”

The dark, melodic voice threatened to bring you to your knees. You had spoken to vampires before, but none had ever affected you like this. “I am. And you must be James Barnes. Your reputation precedes you."

His gaze swept over you as you did the same to him. His elegant black suit looked tailored to perfection. Not a single hair was out of place. You had to admit he was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. Vampires had no right to be so pretty.

And this vampire wanted you.

“I am. And I can see why your father refused to bring you to meetings or let us meet. The photos I've seen of you are beautiful, but they don't do you any justice.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. Men said whatever they could to get in your pants, but this man believed you were a vision of beauty. You couldn’t let that distract you.

“I’m the reason he missed the meeting.”

"What are you doing?" your dad asked in your mind. "We agreed not to say anything."

"It's the only way."

You didn’t see James move as you blinked, refusing to let him intimidate you when he stood in front of you and gripped your chin with a cold hand. “You smell good.”

“James, please," your dad begged, holding his hand out as the cabinet across the room flew open. He kept a range of weapons to use against various creatures if necessary. "Don't hurt my daughter."

“It’s okay, dad. He won't,” you said, which was enough to make your dad lower his hand before he could summon a weapon.

"You sure about that?" James asked.

"If you wanted to hurt me, you would've done that already," you said as your eyes locked with his. "And if you do, you won't get the answers you're looking for."

"I'm listening," he said, brushing a finger over your neck.

“My dad didn't put a hit out on anyone. I had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen the day of the meeting. Really bad. I begged him to stay home," you explained.

"You're psychic?” he guessed as he loosened his grip. “I’m told your entire family has gifts.”

It was no secret that your father and mother possessed psychic abilities, like their ancestors had for many generations. Vampires had a tough time compelling you unlike regular humans. It made your bloodline special. A blessing or a curse depending on who you spoke to.

"Not exactly. More like claircognizant. I can't see the future, but I just know things without any tangible evidence."

"That's convenient," James said.

"I can also sense feelings, like if someone is lying or has bad intentions. My instincts aren't wrong. They never have been,” you explained, nodding to your dad. “You had every intention of killing him before I walked in because you thought he betrayed you and your friend. He didn’t. Listen to my heart beat if you think I’m lying.”

The steady rhythm told him you were telling the truth.

"If you can sense my intentions, what do you think I want to do to you?"

"Everything," you whispered. "And you know my dad didn't do anything. You're just looking for someone to take your rage out on."

James raised an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “I’m sorry I suspected your father. He's a good man, but I've been burned in the past by people I thought were allies. You’ll have to understand that trust isn’t easy for me," he explained as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, not caring that your dad was watching. You almost sucked the digit into your mouth. "So you just knew he shouldn't go to the meeting."

"I did."

James hummed, sparing your dad a glance. "If these abilities of hers are that good, why have I not heard anything about them until now?"

"Because she's my daughter," he said, stepping around the desk when the vampire turned his attention back to you. "She isn't yours to use."

"We'll see about that." The flash of fangs when James smiled didn't frighten you. "What else can you do?"

"Have you heard of personal illusion?"

"Tell me more, darling."

"I was only going to kill your father if he set me up. I happen to like him," Bucky reminded you, making you blink the memory away. He wouldn't have been able to let a hit on him go unpunished. Your dad would've done the same. "Did you realize the danger you put yourself in by revealing to me what you could do?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you? I got a lecture about it later," you said, picturing Bucky smiling and shaking his head on the other end of the line. "But, thankfully, my dad didn't hold a grudge against you and I trusted you."

"Even when I suggested you sit in on my next deal to sniff out the rat? You still weren't suspicious of me?"

"Even then," you smiled. "I knew you needed answers, but you also wanted me around because I intrigued you."

"You still do."

Your dad didn't like the idea at first. As a telekinetic with limited telepathic ability, he admitted his gifts likely wouldn't find the culprit for Bucky. Not if he wanted it done quickly. You had a much better chance.

"Keep my daughter safe."

"You have my word."

Bucky instructed you to stay close to him, which meant he had you on his lap the moment he took a seat. A portion of the men wanted to fuck you, assuming you were a whore when Bucky didn't introduce you by name, and their intentions slightly overwhelmed you as they leered. Not that it took much of a push. They saw what you wanted them to see.

Steve Rogers was the only other one there who knew who you really were.

"Stroke their egos, darling. They like that."

You stayed strong and played dumb, the way you were told to. Laughed at a joke here and stroked Bucky's hair there. You wondered if you played the part too well when you wiggled your hips in the vampire's lap, but you couldn't help your attraction to him.

Especially since he was a heartbeat away from taking you on the table.

"Don't start what you can't finish," he warned you against your neck. "Business first."

You knew the moment Bucky brought up Alexander's death and the unsuccessful assassination of him and Steve that the leader of the Rumlow clan, Brock, was to blame. It would be discovered later that he double crossed Pierce and set up the hit in order to claim more territories. He was furious that the attempt failed, but cleaned up his tracks enough to go undetected by the others. Even Bucky hadn't known.

Brock would have taken you for the night and drained you dry if he had the chance.

When you excused yourself, unable to hold the illusion of yourself you created for much longer, you winked and smiled playfully at the men. As you passed Brock's chair, you bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Bucky locked eyes with you as you pulled the door shut behind you.

He dubbed it the "Kiss of Death".

Because anyone who fucked with him wasn't going to leave in one piece.

"That was the first night we made love," Bucky said, his voice moving along your skin as if he were there.

You pressed your thighs together, but it didn't give you any relief. His voice alone puts you on the edge of bliss. "Would you call it 'making love'?"

"I fucked you and I made love to you."

You waited in Bucky's suite for hours after the meeting, which gave you a chance to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. It was devoid of anything personal, a strange mix of luxury and comfort. The only thing that gave away who the place belonged to was the family crest above the fireplace.

A beautiful, lonely room.

You passed the time reading on the chaise lounge before the double doors flew open. Bucky's eyes glowed an unnatural blue as he walked in, his hair disarrayed and clothes covered in blood. Brock's blood. You felt the battle within him to claim you as his own or let you go on your way. You owed him no loyalty, yet you helped him.

And you asked for nothing in return.

"Leave or I won't stop myself."

You stood up and faced him, wordlessly baring your neck. He wouldn't claim you without speaking to your parents, but the beast inside him raged. You were willing to satisfy him for the night.

It was only the beginning.

"Never tasted anything as delicious as you. I nearly lost control."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you teased, knowing full well he dismissed any blood mistresses he had after he met you.

"Only to the girl I love," he whispered.

You touched your neck, knowing by heart where he bit you the first time. Buried deep inside your wet walls, he sank his fangs into your neck and took enough blood to satisfy his craving. Every cell in your body hummed with pleasure as he drank and left you dizzy and aching when he finished.

"Can you feel how much I love you?"

"I can," you whispered.

You felt it in every glance, touch, kiss. Each whispered word against your ears, lips, and skin. He showered affection upon every inch of you until no place was left untouched.

His love for you only grew when he asked for your hand in marriage after a few months.

Once he spoke with your father and assured the protection of your family and territory, he agreed. Your little brother actually hugged Bucky when he heard the news and asked him to always be good to you. You may be his big sister, but he still felt the need to protect you. Bucky promised he would always take care of you.

"You love me and my blood was so good, you put a ring on it," you teased.

Bucky burst out laughing, the sound bringing a smile to your face. Hardly anyone made him laugh. "Yes, darling, you're just that good."

You held your hand up to look at the ring on your finger. The large, teardrop ruby flashed in the faint light. He chose it because it reminded him of blood and the promise you made to him.

The tiniest shackle to bind people together, but it wasn't heavy or a burden.

"And if I'm that good, I'll have you knocked up during our honeymoon."

"Bucky!" you smiled in spite of yourself, knowing your parents secretly wanted grandchildren.

"What? With our bloodlines, our child might be stronger than both of us."

"Not might. Our child will be stronger than us if we have one," you said.

Another reason why someone would want you dead or taken away from Bucky.

"You said we'd keep each other safe. We'll protect our child, too."

"Why don't we concentrate on finding Steve a mate first and then kids?" you suggested.

"We can do both."

"I thought I needed to sleep," you smiled at his stubbornness.

"I'm giving you something to think about so you have good dreams. A beautiful wedding, blissful honeymoon, and bright future," he said.

You knew you'd dream of him tonight.

"Thank you, Bucky. I think I can sleep now."

"Good. Rest, my love. You need it."

You shivered at the underlying promise as you hung up. He was right. You needed to rest. If you let your thoughts consume you, you wouldn't get any sleep. Bucky didn't need a grouchy bride.

Your phone dinged before you could set it down, seeing a message from the devil himself.

"If you're reading this, you aren't sleeping. Bad girl."

You laughed as you typed back to him. "You did that on purpose."

"I may have. Since I have your attention…"

Oh, the three dots. This'll be good.

"Tomorrow, on our wedding day, I'm going to recite my vows twice."

Your brows furrowed as you saw him typing more. Why would he recite them twice? To make the words sink in?

"Once at the altar. Once again in the bedroom."

Oh.

"With my tongue."

OH.

"On your pussy."

Fuck.

"One letter at a time."

Fuck. Oh, fuck. No. I need to sleep. I don't need that image in my mind.

"You'll know in your soul that you're truly mine."

You tried to think of a coherent or witty response, but only one thing came to mind.

"I love you, Bucky Barnes."

You set your phone down before you could see if he typed a response back. If he could make your knees weak, you'd do the same to him. Nothing made him weaker than your love.

It also made him stronger.

Touching the empty spot beside you, you wished Bucky was there. Maybe he would surprise you and sneak in. If only to kiss your forehead and remind you that you were in this together. Because after tomorrow, there was no going back. You would belong to James Buchanan Barnes.

Forever.

We'll see our new couple again in future fic Down to Sleep. We may also get an alpha for another reader. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ KoFi

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Vanilla Latte

Same pairing as Double Espresso and Farmer's Market and yeah, I guess this is becoming a fic. thing. something. It's becoming something.

Simon Riley/reader 1.8k words Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, no smut but this fic has mature themes. There is a man staring at you in the cafe.

There is a monster in your life.

It is a shapeshifter, a horrible creature that no one else seems to be able to see. During the day, it is fairly unsuspecting and blends in with its surroundings, but at night, it sheds its skin and rears its ugly head, exposing it’s true nature when it drags itself up the stairs of your apartment complex to bang on your door, its rage filled voice calling your name over and over, forcing you into your bedroom closet, where you sit in the dark with your hands clamped over your ears. Sometimes, it hurls its entire body against your door to break it down, and you hide in your locked bathroom, knees to your chest in your tub, little pocketknife handle digging into the skin of your palm.

No one seems to know your monster exists.

No one cares that the monster followed you across an entire ocean when you tried to run away from it.

Your neighbors have turned a blind eye. Those who do see, have fallen to the bystander effect.

The ones who were organized to protect people like you from monsters say they can’t do anything unless you have proof, or it gets worse.

You don’t bother to tell them that if it does get worse, you’ll probably just be dead.

Sometimes, you see it on the street during your walk home from work, standing with its hands in its pockets, dark eyes tracking your every step, waiting for its chance to strike. Sometimes, it follows you onto the train, a car ahead, watching you between the shoulders of the people that separate you from it, their presence the only thing preventing it from making you disappear.

You tell yourself that eventually it will get bored and move on, that it’ll go away, leave you alone for good. But days pass, and it still drags itself up your apartment stairs to torment you, still stands on the sidewalk across from your building.

Sometimes, when it’s really bad, you wonder if you should just open the door and let it kill you. Let it take what it wants, let it make you disappear forever. You think it might not be so bad, not living, if it meant you were free of the monster.

But then, the sun rises. The monster leaves and the day begins. The air is warm, and the birds chirp, and the breeze is just right, and it’s enough. It’s enough to remind you that you can feel something other than despair. It’s enough to keep you going.

And right now, that’s really all you can ask for.

“Oh good. Was starting to worry.” Your boss, Tiana, or just Tee as she constantly reminded you, breathes a sigh of relief when you come through the back door. Your apron comes off the hook easily, and then over your head before the waist ties wrap around your middle. It’s even still got some flour caked on it from yesterday. You shoot her a pointed look.

“You know, if you want to take large orders, just schedule me ahead of time, that way we’re not running around like chickens with our heads cut off.”

“It was last minute, and I couldn’t really say no. But! I am here and will help you with whatever you need.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You pull the laptop that’s sitting on the prep table towards you and scan the typed-out numbers. “Forty-five people?” you raise an eyebrow. You called me in for this? She gives you a helpless look, and you roll your eyes affectionately while she puts a mug of coffee down in front of you, heat pulsing off of it like it’s practically boiling. “Alright, let’s get to it I guess.”

Steam floats in the air from the ceramic mug that’s cradled between your fingers. You’re sitting in the back, leaned against the stainless-steel sink, sipping your fifth cup of coffee, waiting for the dishwasher to finish while Tee rings up and helps load the order that you just cranked out.

You don’t do any of that. You don’t even talk to customers unless you absolutely have to, and even then, it’s less than enticing. You leave it for Alex, who works the counter, and puts up with everyone’s bullshit with charm and grace.

You yawn, trying not to melt into the floor, wrists sore from rolling dough for the last three hours. Outside, traffic on the street hums, busses and cars and bikes all moving in the same direction down the little one-way avenue, horns honking and music occasionally blaring out someone’s window. Usually, this was your favorite time of day. After you’ve finished the afternoon rush, the prep table has been scraped and scrubbed, most of the dishes are washed, and there’s one left over croissant with your name on it. It was in these kinds of small moments, that you still felt like yourself, felt like you could enjoy things. Like you were still just a baker, just the pastry chef, just another person, out there living their life. Not a husk of a human, always looking over your shoulder, hiding from a monster.

The back door chimes, jolting you from your spiral, and Tee hands you a folded over banknote.

“They tipped. Generously.” You frown. You don’t take tips because you’re a full wage hourly, and she knows this.

“Give it to Alex.”

“They get one too. We all do… By the way, the new scones? Orange vanilla?”

“They’re vegan.”

“I know. They’re amazing. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thanks, Tee.” You want to sound enthusiastic about the praise, but you’re too exhausted to get the inflection right. Instead, you just sound like a deflated balloon. Or Eeyore. Sympathy flickers across her face. You turn before she can watch your expression shift into annoyance. It’s not her fault. “Dishes are almost done.” You tell her, pulling yourself free of the apron and shrugging on your knit sweater. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

Every day after work, you walk the six blocks to the corner café to sit by the window with your book and a decaf latte. Vanilla, usually, or caramel if you’re feeling like it. You settle at the little table that’s almost always open because it’s rickety, balancing on three legs because the fourth one is missing a foot. You have an exchange worked out here since you bake their pastries, they give you all you can drink espresso, and you get to curl up with your book like you’re a cat every day after work. You feel safe here. You’ve never felt exposed, the café is off a side street, and as far as you knew, you’ve never been followed. You’ve never seen your monster outside here, or in this area really at all. Never seen it on Sunday mornings at the farmer’s market, or at the cramped, darkly lit bar that you sometimes stop at to grab a pint when you’re feeling up to it.

You hope that means it doesn’t know too much about your routines, but you can’t be too sure. Even so, your monster isn’t a danger to other people, just to you, never approaching you when there are others around, and that small fact brings you small slivers of relief. At least when it finally gets you, no one else will have to watch. No one else will have to suffer.

You’re reading page three hundred and two of The Name of the Wind and drinking your second decaf vanilla latte of the day, when the incident (which is what you’re calling it, in your mind) happens. The girl behind the counter is calling a name, her voice pitched with irritation, and the change in her tone immediately puts you on red alert. You scan the shop, eyes landing on a massive man with a mask and a hoodie on who’s standing by the counter, oblivious to Clarissa, who's just trying to get him to pick up his order.

He’s oblivious, because he’s staring at you. His gaze never falters, the intensity of his eyes kicking your nervous system into high gear, and you physically clamp down on yourself, so you don’t sprint out of the coffee shop right then and there.

It’s not the monster. That is a man. This man is not your monster.

Clarissa gives you a helpless look and gestures to the queue that’s quickly forming in front of her register. You give her a nod in return, and stride over to where the behemoth of a man stands frozen, Patrick Rothfuss still in your hand. You take a closer look at him, and swallow when you see his eyes, their amber reflection gorgeous in the afternoon sun. Something hot stirs in you, prickles across your skin and you take a sharp inhale. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the pull of attraction, felt the presence of butterflies in your stomach, that you almost mistake what you’re feeling for fear.

Something pulls you closer to him, like you're tethered together on an invisible string.

“Sir?” the man in the mask doesn’t respond. He just… stares at you. Okay… weird? Is this dude on drugs? “Sir.” You drop the question at the end of your statement adding a little more authority, trying to get his attention, and it seems to work, because his spine straightens, and then he nearly stumbles backwards, away from you like you’ve struck him. You blink in confusion. “I think that’s yours.” You point to the white cup that Clarissa was gesturing to, but he still ignores you. “The uh, double espresso?” Something is off here. You pull the tiny cup from the counter and hold it out to him, imagining he’ll just take it from you and be on his way but when he doesn’t move, worry starts to build in your mind. What if he can’t hear? What if he’s having a stroke? What if something is wrong? “Sir? Are you… is everything okay?” You take a tiny step closer to him.

He steps back quickly, banging into the glass side door, and it swings out behind him. A second passes, and then he’s gone, turning on his heel in the breeze, disappearing down the corner while you stand in the café, a double espresso in your outstretched hand.

#it will come back #peaches writes #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2

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a-living-canvas · 27 days

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Burnt matches

Whumpee stirred open in his sleep. He blinked his eyes a few times as he sat up and looked at the person across the room. It's not Whumper this time…it's…

Whumpee 2!

Chained up, wearing a white shirt with eyes staring into space. The guy looked more like a ghost than a person. His shirt even had a blood stain…much more worse than Whumpee. Whumpee frowned, confused at his friend's state. Whumper separated them for the past few weeks and he never expected that they would meet like this. It's like seeing a different person now.

"Um, hello…dude?"

Whumpee's voice echoing through the dark basement. Whumpee 2 just stayed silent, not even daring to move. What was he even scared about? It's not like Whumper is here. Whumpee moved the chain around his wrist, he tried to emit some sound to catch the guy's attention. But just like before, that creature just glued to the floor.

Whumpee gave up. He leaned his head on the wall, closing his eyes. After that he heard the sound of the door being unlocked and opened by Whumper. Whumpee opened his eyes and to his surprise, Whumpee 2 crawled up and hugged Whumper's leg. He frowned, immediately annoyed while Whumper just smirked down at the guy and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Just like how you treat an obedient dog.

Whumper chuckled upon seeing the frustrated look on Whumpee's face. "Aww, are you jealous that I'm being all loving with him rather than you? Maybe you should just submit to me…you will get all the attention too."

Whumper leaned down and stroked the guy's cheek gently. Whumpee looked at them in disgust as Whumper kissed the guy's forehead and squeezed his throat playfully.

So pathetic, letting someone treat you like that.

Whumpee swore to his life that he would never break because of someone like Whumper. He would stay strong until Caretaker came and saved him. That's his promise to her. But seeing Whumpee 2 like this broke his heart, what would Caretaker say if she saw him in that condition?

"What did you do to him? What did you do that made him change?" Whumpee asked, with a slight hint of anger in his voice.

Whumper hummed, "Oh, nothing much. Just touch him here and there…you know?"

Whumpee huffed out a sigh, "Touch him with what?"

Whumper squeezed Whumpee 2's cheeks, "With the whip, hammer, shock collar…oh, and a loving touch from me. He takes it like the good boy he is."

Whumpee swallowed hard, Whumper never hurt him using those things before. He only got a few cuts on his body, Whumper drowned him once, and a few kicks and punches every time he made a ruckus.

"Oh, don't be so surprised that I treated you much better than him. He's the one who offered to take your punishments for you." Whumper said, looking down at Whumpee 2 with a smirk.

"And now, look at him. He's just a broken doll now, only exists to please me. His dear master."

Whumpee too stunned to make any snarky remarks like always. His eyes glued to his friend. Whumper's right, he's nothing more than a lifeless body. He wanted to yell at Whumper for being the reason he lost his friend forever, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Whumper snickered as he walked out of the basement, locking the door before leaving the two alone. Whumpee looked at Whumpee 2 with his eyes full of…betrayal?

They locked eye contact with each other and Whumpee couldn't help but feel tears burning in his eyes. That's not Whumpee 2, he's a different person now. He used to be so annoying, so cheerful, always encouraging Whumpee to do stupid things. He's also the one who used to get mad at Whumpee when he nearly gave up until that asshole separated them two.

"Whumpee 2…" Whumpee started. "Why? Why did you took my punishments for me? Do you think I'm that weak?"

Whumpee 2 just stayed silent. He opened his mouth slightly before closing them again. His gaze fell to the ground, not having enough strength to look at Whumpee. But Whumpee ended up feeling more anger towards him. Tears streamed down his face.

"Answer me you idiot! Who asked you to do that for me?! Why are you always like this? Always think about other people rather than yourself! Do you think I would be happy seeing you like this, huh?!"

Whumpee 2 still didn't move nor say anything. Whumpee wanted to yell at him again when he saw a tear rolled down his face. Whumpee could feel his heart shattered at the sight. He pushed his knees to his chest and buried his face on it.

"Dummy…" Whumpee muttered with a broken voice.

#whump community #whump #whump writing #multiply whumpee #whumplr #whump drabble

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wrathofrats · 4 months

Note

Angst promt 15 with Dew being mean to Phantom/Aeon in the beginning :)) either pure angst or hurt/comfort you choose -🌧️

Part 10293839 of dew doesn’t know how to cope with his trauma.

Warnings for: dew being overly cruel, like he’s really mean to phantom to justify his own trauma. Aether is said to be dead here, Detailed descriptions of dealing with grief, morally wrong thoughts, it’s angst.

No I don’t think dew is bad, this is all based in real grief. He’s not right but he’s not a bad ghoul. I want to make that clear. Dew tries to make it right in the end, this is a lot of him working through his own feelings. I didn’t leave it sad forever.

Sometimes dew feels like the perfect tragedy.

A fairy tale of love and loss that you tell your kids at night to not make them greedy. To teach them to enjoy what they have, to stop complaining.

A fucked up fable of a being forced into a shell that’s not his by a lover he no longer has and truly his own skin feels like his mates mausoleum.

His self hatred falls upon phantom most of the time. A better target than his own flesh and bones in his head. It’s a silent agreement between the ghouls to never mention it, to make sure phantom and dew don’t stay alone together too long but the only verbal concerns come from late night whispers in low lit rooms of the house.

Dew feels unjustified in his hatred, knows it in fact. Can’t rip away the feeling of phantoms existence being wrong. It punches him in the chest everytime he sees him, when he sees his guitar, when he sees him practice his magic. It’s wrong and gross and dew feels disgusted with him, like a cheap puppet of someone he loves.

He wonders if he could make phantom into a bad dog. If he will lash out when scared. Something tangible to justify his hatred. A bite wound to justify his fear. It’s part of the reason he’s so cold to him. His own civil war of wanting to leave the kid alone, knowing he’s done nothing wrong, and wanting to hurt him so phantom can hurt him back. He wants tangible evidence of phantom being cruel to him back so much he could almost taste it. He’s sick, he’s disgusted with himself but dews never been anything but stubborn. A malicious brain worm that will only feed on seeing his own manipulated proof that the kid can be fucking cruel too.

Dew gets worse with his gross brain parasite. Dropping his obsession with aether to instead obsess over being correct and justified in his feelings. Hes lost this much, he can’t stand being wrong on top of it. He has to bite his tongue every time he sees phantom to not immediately try and cause an issue. The common smiling face makes him want to smack it off of him, the sound of Swiss giggling at phantom antics makes him want to scream in rage that he’s not all that special, aether didn’t deserve what happened to get that thing to replace him

The ghouls notice a clear change in him that never leaves. Dew turning from an inconsolable grieving mess into a vengeful creature who they barely can even talk to anymore. All of his words ooze venom, the looks he gives anyone who even go near phantom have them cringing in their own discomfort.

Phantom gets the worst of strange feelings. Summoned into a pack of those receiving the news of the loss of their friend. He feels immediately outcast, though they’ve all worked to remedy the feelings, it still eats at him more than they’ve told him it should. It probably lingers from dews stares but he can’t help but feel as if he was born with the original sin he can scrub his skin of. Maybe if dew accepted him he wouldn’t feel sick everytime he was in a group setting, or maybe it’s truly always going to be like this, phantom doesn’t know.

It’s not his fault he’s curious, the hint of his name having him tune into different conversations using his quintessence to help. He should’ve known better than to use it on dew though.

Mountain approaches dew first about the problem. Phantom watches him finally chase after him to his room after dew came down to grab water, immediately retreating upon seeing phantom sitting on the couch.

Dew what on earth is your problem?

Mountain speaks quietly, barely enough to hear even with his magic

Are we really doing this? You know my fucking problem mountain!

Dew is a bit louder, doesn’t care if anyone hears, it’s a painful thought.

You’re acting like a child. I know what you’re going through but-

You have no idea what I’m going through

He sounds on the verge of tears

You have to learn to accept it. You can’t keep doing this, you’re tearing the pack apart with your shitty attitude

Fuck you, he’s the one tearing us apart, I didn’t do anything

It’s one thing to assume what’s wrong, but for phantom to hear it? The words hurt physically, but he’s unable to stop himself from ignoring the conversation.

Phantom didn’t do anything and you know that

He’s the reason aethers dead. Aethers gone and we got a shitty fucking child to replace him and you expect me to be ok with that?

I’m done. Fix your attitude. Get help. You know you’re wrong.

The tears flow down phantoms face. Bile burns at his throat and he can’t help but look around for someone, anything to comfort him. Maybe he is some shitty child.

Mountain rests his hands on phantoms shoulder to warn him of his presence before sliding next to him and pulling him into his arms.

“Did you hear any of that?” Mountain asks, worried but knowing the answer.

Phantom nods his head

“He’s wrong. Dew will get over himself, don’t listen to him. He’s going through a lot but you’ve done nothing wrong bug”

Phantom tries not to directly sob into mountains shirt, hiccuping and biting his cheek

“If he didn’t mean it, why would he say something like that?” His voice cracks through his tears

“Grief makes people do stupid things. He’s looking for someone to blame so he can take it off of himself. I promise it wasn’t your fault though”

They hold each other, mountain squeezing phantom tight enough to release some of his own feelings.

Dew is a direct contrast to the warm embrace happening downstairs. Sitting alone in his room, barely a thought besides his own internal rage and these days it’s all he really does. Sit and stew in his own self pity, praying that maybe if he hopes hard enough everything will go back to normal, though he knows it won’t. A vicious never ending cycle.

His bed is cold, has been for months. He yearns for someone to save him though is utterly convinced he must deserve this. It must be some kind of punishment for something he’s done. It’s fitting for a monster of his kind, to want something so much but to know you’ll never deserve it.

Phantom was gifted with a different kind of quintessence than aether and omega were, less medical and more thoughtful. He was naturally empathetic, to a fault at times. His magic made him feel things others felt deeply, able to control their emotions with just his finger tips.

He decides to confront dew, a peace offering, an apology, he doesn’t know but he can’t stand the situation. He can’t stand having someone he should care about be practically fading away because of his own hurt he’s never been shown how to deal with properly.

“Can we talk?” Phantom knocks on the cracked door, opening it far enough to see dew sitting on his bed, still staring at the wall.

“Nothing to talk about” dew says nonchalantly

“I’m sorry if I did anything to you” phantom starts

“You’re fine”

“I’m sorry that I annoy you”

“It’s ok” dews tone gets more annoyed everytime he speaks

“I’m sorry about what happened”

“What?” Dew finally turns his head to look at him

“You didn’t deserve that. And I’m sorry no one’s ever tried to help you” phantom practically whispers

“They did try”

“They stopped. You’re still hurting and they stopped. They gave up. And I’m sorry”

“Why do you care? I’ve always been mean to you” dew looks like he may cry himself

“I can’t blame you, it’s not fair what you’ve been through. You’re allowed to grieve in your own way since no one ever showed you how” phantom steps into the room. It smells odd, like dew hasn’t showered in a couple days. Old plates of food and bottles of water stack his bedside table, the other looking pristine and untouched with a book sitting on it. Phantom looks at the book for a couple seconds too long before dew speaks again

“It was his. It’s the last thing he read.” Dew almost smiles, “his nightstand still smells like him”

Phantom doesn’t speak, just nodding along. He doesn’t know what to say, but dew takes the silence as a chance to keep going.

“Sometimes I can smell him on you. Quintessence has a scent to it, it’s smoky and sharp, Swiss gets it too when he’s been using magic.” He chuckles “I know he’s been training you. I wish aether could’ve”

“Really?”

“He would’ve loved you bug”

#oof #one day I need to make a post about what happened to aether #but have this for now #I hurt my own feelings as usual #cw angst #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #angst

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cyraspirit · 6 days

Text

I re-watched “The case of the very long staircase” and, of course, had to write the internal dialogue of the characters. I didn’t finish the section because it’s already beautiful on the show!

Enjoy

Stairs to Hell

Every sudden movement, every unexplained sound, every tear sliding down his face made him start. Half his face was covered in blood while the other was ghostly white. He was sitting with his knees tucked under his chin, trying to make himself as small as physically possible. He didn’t need help feeling small: he felt like nothing. Here he was, alone, with walls permanently tinged red and echoes of screams etched into the foundation of this place, alone.

He’d forgotten what true loneliness felt like, his friend of thirty years had seen to that. Thirty years. Thirty years he had been free from this place, only to find himself back, cowering in the shadows, all his resolve ripped from him.

He closed his eyes, clinging onto his friend’s grin; his soulful eyes and cute, curly hair. Their time together had been filled with laughter and love, maybe plutonic for his friend, but for the one curled in hell, that love was real, is real. His heart ached to feel his friend’s arms around him again, yearned to have him tell a crappy joke and even craved for another boxing lesson. He smiled in spite of himself; it was short lived.

He could feel, rather than see, a massive creature crawling towards him. The air still smelt of the blood spilled last time.

He backed away, knowing it was pointless. He backed away knowing this would be the end of any joy or love or hope he’d been harbouring.

“I love you Charles,” he whispered, knowing he’d be too broken to say it again.

The thing reared its head and a piercing scream rent the air.

Nothing was left of the boy, except the words he had uttered.

“Edwin,” Charles called.

He could just make out a crumpled figure pushed against the wall. The figure lifted its head. Charles gasped in horror. One side of the face was slashed while the other was damp with tears.

Charles lifted the lantern higher and illuminated the eyes of the only person he would go to hell for.

“Charles? Is that you?” Edwin stammered.

Edwin stood. His lips started curling upwards into a small but unmistakable smile.

Charles started grinning too.

This had been easy, he thought.

He started making his way towards Edwin. Charles blinked. Edwin was gone.

He heard his friend’s screams reverberate through the tunnels. Charles knew that yell would forever haunt his dreams. The amount of torture Edwin must’ve endured to produce a sound so lost and piercing was unimaginable.

“Edwin!” Charles yelled.

He ran forwards.

Edwin reappeared, no blood hiding his beautiful face.

Charles knelt beside him. He opened his mouth to speak but Edwin put a hand over it to silence him.

“If I run, it attacks,” he whispered, voice shaking with repressed emotion, “I need to stay here.”

It broke Charles’ heart to see his friend so… empty… defeated.

“But you have me,” he said, extracting a bomb from his bag of magic tricks.

“Charles?” Edwin whispered.

“Oi! Ugly!” Charles taunted at the monster, “Want an explosive snack?”

He launched the bomb at it, grabbed Edwin’s hand and ran.

They ran through tunnel after tunnel, terror after terror but they never let each other go. People throwing up. Charles clung onto Edwin. People lost in a sea of blood. Edwin clung onto Charles. People frozen in time. They both held each other tight.

“Through here.”

They reached the endless stairs and began to climb. It went on and on and on. Charles kept his hand in Edwin’s and ploughed on. Edwin, meanwhile, was grappling with a realisation.

“I cannot believe you would risk your entire existence coming down to this operatic horror show! It’s so fucking stupid, it’s unbelievable,” Edwin raged. How could his idiot of a ghost, his abysmally foolish idiot, his beautifully heroic friend risk a fate worse than death to save him? Edwin was so furious he didn’t see what it meant.

“Sorry,” Charles said, exasperatedly, “No version of this where I didn’t come get you. “ He wasn’t sorry. He would go to hell million times over if he could save Edwin from this fate.

“I’m not mad,” Edwin added, as Charles began turning away.

“Good,” Charles grinned, “now, let’s escape this hell hole, yeah?”

“I love you!” The words escapes him before he’d fully formed the words. They came out in a rush of anguish, torment and pain.

“Love you too, now let’s…”

“As more than a friend, I’m afraid,” Edwin finished, his breath catching in his throat.

Charles was taken aback. Of course, he thought, the one time this guy can finish a sentence I have no response.

Charles stood there, contemplating the best response.

Edwin watched him, knowing, whatever the outcome, he’d done the right thing.

And he was right.

#dead boy detective agency #dbd #dbd spoilers #fanfic #edwin x charles #edwin payne #charles rowland #charles dead boy detectives #edwin dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives #dbda #dbd show

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multi-writer · 2 years

Text

Love of my Life Pt. 2

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie and you broke up months ago and still hurts like hell, but you know what hurts more? Seeing the love of your life in danger thanks to Vecna.

Note: Thank you so much for all the support the first part has received!!! You honestly are amazing. Sadly I can´t answer the comments but I'm so happy and thankful <3 Here´s part 2! Hope you like it too!

Based on the song “Love of my life” From Queen

Requested? No

Love of my Life pt. 1

“Eddie… Eddie are you there?... What´s… going… on?” Dustin was trying to communicate over the walkie-talkie, the signal was weak but it was understandable. Eddie had never reacted as fast as he did that time trying to grab the device. Those reactions were normal when the love of your life was in danger.

"Dustin! It's happening... Vecna has (y/n) in a trance... what do I do?!?" Eddie asked desperately while trying to hold back his tears, with one hand he was holding the device while with the other he had you leaning on his shoulder, your eyes rolling upwards.

"You have...Eddie...can you hear me?" Dustin was trying to find a better place to get more signal.

"Yes Dustin YES I DO HEAR YOU" Eddie couldn't waste any more time, remembering the same thing happened to Chrissy in a span of less than five minutes. He didn't know how much more you could be like this. Time was limited.

"Song...you have to play...her song...her favorite song...or some...that...she...likes" Dustin´s signal was getting worse than before, the signal couldn't pick a better time to get terrible.

"Okay, her favorite song or one that she likes...her favorite song or one that she...BUT I DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO PLAY IT ON" Eddie shouted as you began to slowly float away from his arms. When the metal lover realized this, he let go of the walkie-talkie to hold you tightly in his arms, he already knew what happened after floating through the air. When Eddie tried to communicate again with the rest of the group he realized that the signal had been lost.

Meanwhile you were desperate, strange objects coming out of a pillar held your hands and legs while another one slowly approached to perch around your neck. The humanoid creature was getting closer and closer while you were losing mobility. When you tried to turn your head around you realized that there was nowhere to run, if Dustin's theories were correct then you were in a trance or a vision and it was impossible to get out. How do you get out of a vision?

"Keep... calm" said Vecna in front of you as it raised one of its long hands causing several floating debris to move and let it walk easily towards you.

"please... don't do this to me... I don't want to die" you said as you felt tears streaming down your face.

"shhh... I need you... you won't suffer anymore..." said the creature, the hand it had raised came to rest in front of you and with the movement of one of its fingers the object around your neck started to make itself smaller around your neck that not enough air was able to get inside your lungs.

Your vision began to blur, what was previously red around you now became darker with black sport, soon you would stop breathing if you did nothing, if you did not free yourself and escape. But what good would it do? You can't run forever.

Thoughts of how to survive were no longer running through your head, now there was only Eddie. How will he be? Will he cry for your departure?

'I hope he won't suffer too much for me' you thought.

Oh how you wanted to spend more time with him, to live more moments of laughter and kisses together, those moments where only the two of you existed and your life together was like a love story. Maybe he will survive Vecna´s attacks to grow up and find love again.

You closed your eyes as Vecna brought its hand close to your face, if this was going to be the end of your life then the last thing you planned to think about were those moments that made you truly happy, those that were worth remembering.

Love of my life, don´t leave me.

You´ve taken my love, and now desert me.

You opened your eyes suddenly, that was Eddie's voice but he was not with you, the only thing you could see between Vecna's hands were the eyes of the creature that owned the hand, in these you could see confusion as it also heard the voice of your ex-boyfriend. Behind Vecna you saw a small white flash, easy to distinguish among a wide range of reds.

Love of my life, can´t you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don’t take it away from me

Because you don´t know

What it means to me.

There was no doubt, that was Eddie's voice singing one of your favorite songs, his soft voice brought you peace in your last moments. In the distance you could see the white flash getting bigger and bigger and in it you saw Eddie holding your hand tightly as your body floated slightly above the ground and it was slowly raising even higher. That's when an idea occurred to you. Maybe if you touched that flash you could escape. But how would you free yourself from Vecna?

While thousands of ideas were running through your mind, Eddie kept singing, causing the flash to get even bigger. This event distracted Vecna for a moment as he turned to look at the white light. Then, thanks to desperation and adrenaline, you pulled your hand towards you taking advantage of Vecna's distraction, released your hand from the thing holding it, with agility you grabbed the side of Vecna's neck and then pulled hard to tore a piece of it off.

Maybe because of the pain or maybe because of the surprise, Vecna fell to the ground causing the things that held you to the pillar to let go of you causing you to fall too. Without any doubt you started to run towards the flash, at last you had found a way out, now you only needed to reach it.

When i grow older

I will be there at your side to remind you

How I still love you.

Eddie's voice grew louder and louder as you got closer to the flash. The only thing you could concentrate on was escaping until some noises above you distracted you. The floating debris were now falling slowly but still causing damage as it crashed to the ground. One of these debris managed to fall so close to you that it caused you to lose your balance for a few moments and fell.

Without losing a second you got up again, the image of Eddie holding both of your hands became clearer and clearer in front of you, you could see tears falling on his face while he sang to you, his voice was breaking but without hesitation Eddie continued singing.

Back, hurry back

Please, bring it back home to me.

It seemed as if he knew you were getting closer and closer to the image surrounded by shimmering white. Eddie wasn't just singing you a Queen song that had come out years ago. Without knowing, he was opening a door to escape from Vecna as he begged you to come back. Your vision blurred with every step you took, tears gathered in your eyes as you reached out to touch the sparkle.

Because you don´t know

What it means to me.

Love of my life

One of your hands reached out to touch the image of Eddie, you were so close that you could feel a familiar warmth emanating from the glowing image giving you motivation to run faster, and as you stood in front of the image of Eddie holding your hands you didn't hesitate for a second to touch the vision.

Love of my life.

Everything was dark, it was hard to open your eyes so you took your time to feel around you. You were lying on something warm and firm, you could recognize two arms around you and something wet falling on your cheek. When you finally opened your eyes the first thing you saw was Eddie's red face, tears were streaming from his beautiful brown eyes. You had never been so happy to find yourself in his arms as you were at that moment. Eddie, seeing that you had woken up, closed his eyes again letting a couple more tears flow and brought his face close to yours so he could rest his forehead against yours.

"Eddie..." you whispered, one of your hands slowly reaching up to touch his face and wipe away a tear that was on his chin. "...You...you...saved me Eddie."

"You don't know the fear I just went through princess..." Eddie replied with a whisper. "I thought...I thought I was going to lose you...please don't do that again… don´t leave me..."

"You saved me from Vecna Eddie" you said as your eyes filled with tears. Eddie's arms held you tighter as if he was trying convince himself that you were back. That you were safe between his arms.

"I'm so sorry... you don't know how much I love you (y/n)..." sobbed Eddie.

"I love you too Eddie. Please don't ever let me go" You replied while hugging him as best you could.

For you it was impossible to stop loving him.

After all, he was the love of your life.

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

Damn, this is a bit shorter than the first part but as soon as I started writing this I couldn´t stop and for a moment I was afraid Tumblr wouldn't let me post it thanks to the limited amount of characters.

Sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language so I keep trying to write well in English.

again thanks for the support and hope you like this second and last part! love you all <3

#eddie munson fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader

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wholoveseggs · 2 months

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Hi, I guess this is more of a general question than request, but if he falls in love with a human reader, then how would he discloses them of his truth, the existence of the supernatural world, his original vampire status and his chaotic family?

Also there is a darker and more violent side of him and his life, and the plethora of enemies Mikaelsons have, how would he help them to adjust to the other side of him and keep her safe?

Hi Anon! Sorry that I took so long to respond to this, (it got lost in my inbox).

Here are some of my opinions / headcanons on Elijah dating a human:

~I think there would be a lot of adjustment required, especially considering how many enemies the Mikaelsons have, but Elijah is very protective, and would not put someone he loves in unnecessary danger.

~Elijah would probably have to tell the reader about the supernatural world and his status as a vampire when he gets serious about them, and would have to trust that they will not go around telling everyone and making themselves targets.

~As for the violent and dark side of his life, it is hard to say. Elijah tries to live by a code and keep a clean slate, and I think the show kinda does a poor job of showing his complicated inner struggle.

~Like, in TVD one of my favorite moments is when he says ‘Mother made us vampires. She didn't make us monsters. We did that to ourselves.’ Which makes it seem like he harbors a lot of guilt over all the bad things he has done in the past, and is trying to make up for it and that's why he tries to be noble.

~But his actions are always very contradictory. He can be very cold, cruel and calculating. Like, he will help someone or save their life and then turn around and stab them in the back later, or even worse, sacrifice someone else's life in order to achieve his own goals.

~He is very ashamed of his red door and all his internal darkness, which kinda proves that he does have a moral code, but at the same time, he's not a good person. I think his ‘noble’ reputation is more of a shield than who he actually is, like how Klaus is more bark than bite.

~So my guess is that he would not want to hide those things, because he would want his lover to know the real him, but at the same time, he is terrified of being rejected because of who he is.

~So I can see him struggling, and eventually just coming out and saying it and hoping that love is strong enough to handle his truth.

~I also think Elijah is very much a supernatural creature, and would want to turn his lover into a vampire once he knew that they were truly committed, and that they wanted to spend eternity with him. I think the show does a poor job trying to show how exactly he feels about what he is. He is clearly very good at being a vampire (compared to hungry boy Stefan or volatile Damon / Klaus). He has demonstrated that he has incredible self-control, and is able to resist the bloodlust. He has centuries of experience and a very sharp mind, and is very confident and sure of himself. I think the red door plot was meant to show that he is certainly not perfect, although it turned from an interesting metaphor about how he suppresses his guilt to a literal construct in his mind that makes him forget his own actions, which is a little ridiculous and dumb.

~Anyway, I digress. The point is, he is very much a vampire and I don't think he would be satisfied with anything less than his lover joining him in eternity and becoming his partner forever.

~As for dealing with his family? Hopefully the reader has some thick skin and doesn't mind drama, because with the Mikaelsons you kinda get what you pay for. And Elijah would never abandon his family, (fuck season 5) so they would have to find a balance and make room for each other.

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #klaus mikaelson #tvd #lissa responds

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bogleech · 2 years

Note

what is awful hospital ?

I was gonna write a short little answer but then two more people asked and this ballooned into a bigger summary, so: Awful Hospital is an ongoing interactive webseries I make that begins here, its events guided in variable ways by reader comments! I'm told there should be warnings for elements of gore, body horror, contamination, delusion, unreality, death and violence but it's heavily comedic and visually cartoonish; I personally think the closest thing to its style of "horror" would be Courage the Cowardly Dog.

The story focuses on a single mother, Fern, who wakes up alone in a surreal, dreamlike hospital full of equally odd entities - just one "zone" of reality's true abstract form - where she learns that her infant son has been taken in for the treatment of an unknown illness that may threaten the entire stability of existence. Unfortunately, the Hospital zone is already in an advanced state of deterioration by Fern's arrival, and the vast alien minds of its staff have lost much of their grip on logic. It quickly becomes evident that almost all hope rests on "simpler" beings with more "limited" perceptions of existence, like Fern's own human self.

The challenge faced by Fern (and the audience along with her) is that she has no frame of reference for what's actually supposed to be "normal" or "abnormal" in her surroundings, and most of the beings she encounters are just as lost, all experiencing their own subjective simultaneous realities even before those realities began to unravel and bleed together. Her worst enemy is culture shock, having to extrapolate a context for everything she encounters on the fly if she's to piece together any shaky understanding of what went wrong or how it can be fixed.

Much of the story progresses through roleplay-style dialog sessions with different sentient creatures, hostile monster encounters, and puzzles based on dream logic, cartoon physics or even dumb puns (like a literal mouse working as a computer mouse, as long as enough commenters believe it should) all while avoiding doctors and nurses who mean well but have lost too much of their senses to the ongoing corruptive anomaly.

Some things that influenced Awful Hospital include Silent Hill, Eraserhead, Gregory Horror Show, The Phantom Tollbooth, Hitchhiker's Guide and James and the Giant Peach, but I think what goes into it the most is just an extreme exaggeration of how confusing everyday life can be with neurodivergence. Nothing around her is currently making any sense to Fern or the same sense to anyone else she encounters, but if she doesn't convincingly react as if it does then there's an above-zero chance that one single incorrect choice might irreversibly and catastrophically ruin everything forever. It's about the most disastrous day you could ever possibly have adapting to an unfamiliar situation, and the day never ends because space-time itself isn't what you thought it was and everyone thinks you're an idiot for not already knowing something so basic. Worse still, you're the only one who notices or cares how dirty everything is.

#awful hospital #webcomic

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clownery-and-fuckery · 6 months

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A parallel I did not realise existed until now. The batch and looking up/looking down. Its a simple composition technique that's used throughout the show

But hear me out.

Crosshair looked up to see those vultures. He looked up, after losing Mayday, losing his last real strand of loyalty he had for the Empire. He looked up towards the creatures he was told that could survive even under the harshest of conditions. And he felt free. He chose to stand back up and make sure he would "go out" as a survivor, like those vultures. Like Mayday. Crosshair looked up towards his freedom.

Tech looked up to see a different kind of freedom. He saw the drop, he saw the fall that waited and the misty realisation of death. Yet he looked up. Looked up to his family, his driving motive, his freedom. He could be whoever he wanted with them. He fought with them, he lived for them. Now he chose to die for them. His last decision wasn't to assess his exit, it wasn't to look around for the best solution out. It was to take one final look up at his family as he fell.

Similarly, Hunter looked up at his family as a part of it was taken from him. He watched, powerless and helpless, as Omega was taken from him. Like everything else had been. Like Crosshair, like their situation they had grown to accept and love, like Tech, like his hope for a future with all of them together. He looked up as that was taken away from him. As his life as he knew it, was again forever and continuously ripped away from him in a cold and uncaring fashion.

Now- looking down is a whole other story.

Wrecker looked down as he watched Tech fall. As he experienced his first raw loss since Crosshair. A permanent and warping change that couldn't be fixed. There was no waiting this time. There is no "We could have taken you" like there is with Crosshair. Wrecker watched his brother go through the very thing he feared the most, and all he could do was watch. Stare down into an abyss that swallowed his family whole. He couldn't even bare to look at Omega, he chose to look at the floor, eyes down like the ground was changed and he would fall just like he watched Tech do.

Echo's parallel actually happens back in tcw. When he was unplugged, hanging from the stasis chamber, looking down while his head was ruthlessly emptied of info. He didn't see it until later, looking up at Rex, his dear and near brighter future- but at the time? He was looking down. Looking down at everything he could've been. A fighter, a soldier on another mission, fighting for a bigger, better future for all the Republic, like Rex. At the same time, he was looking at everything he would now be, a rogue element, different and, in the grand scheme of things, wrong, like Tech. Echo was something that should not be, but is, and he looked down at his possibilities, his pathways, and chose to go with the bad batch. He chose to embrace his differences.

Just- them looking up and down as their entire world shifts and changes for better and worse is so ohmygod??? Didn't even realise the parallel was THERE though its definitely strongest in Crosshair and Tech-

Crosshair looked up and assured himself that he would survive. Tech looked up and accepted he would not. It kills me.

#sw the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #they kill me #they do they really do #i get sO SAD #theyre really just the sad batch arent they??#making me sob like this

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redtippedfox · 1 year

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Corrupted Kwamis: Wrath of the Gods

Tikki-Creation-Manifestation

Plagg-Destruction-Ruination

Trixx-Illusion-Reality

Pollen-Subjection-Submission

Wayzz-Protection-Endangerment

Duusu-Emotion-Manipulation

Nooroo-Transmission-Dissemination

Longg-Perfection-Limitation

Ziggy-Passion-Suppression

Kaalki-Migration-Stagnation

Barkk-Adoration-Humiliation

Stompp-Determination-Revolution

Orikko-Pretension-Deposition

Roarr-Exaltation-Depression

Fluff-Evolution-Regression

Sass-Intuition-Divination

Xuppu-Derision-Adulation

Mullo-Multiplication-Subtraction

Daizzi-Jubilation-Devastation

——————————————————-

Tikki- Tikki has the terrifying power of Manifestation but with no care or emotions for humanity anymore she creates the worst of the worst. Plaguing humanity with curses and horrifying monster like titans and man-eating creatures. Turning Paris into an Empire for her chosen and those her chosen holds dear. Tikki reverses the world back to the days of fear where death was around every corner.

Plagg- Plagg never cared much for humanity but since Tikki loved them he kept them safe, now that Tikki is corrupted like the rest of the kwamis he sees no need to keep them safe. With the power of Ruination he creates deadly diseases and curses that can kill a man instantly. Though most are safe from Plagg’s reign of destruction if you live inside Paris under the protection of the Divines if not then your screwed.

Trixx- Trixx uses the harsh power of reality to torture the humans, forcing them to face the reality that nothing will ever be as it was. Trixx creates traps that they hide across the world and if a human were to fall into it then they would have to face the reality of their trauma. Trixx picks their victims based on the amount of heavy trauma they have, like some sick game they toy with the emotions of humanity for fun.

Pollen- Pollen uses the power of submission to gain followers, brainwashing them and forcing her victims into a Hive mind. This helps the Divines keep people under their control but it’s Pollens sick pleasure to find the best of the best to join her Hive, only the best may serve her Hive and her Guardian.

Wayzz- The power of Endangerment is dangerous which is why many people of Paris try their hardest to live in the turtles territory for safety, Wayzz protects those that live in his territory and those that don’t or trespassers face a worse fate. His Shelter allows those with good intentions to pass but those that don’t feel agonizing pain that endanger their health. Unlike Trixx he does not torture humanity for fun. It’s not what his Guardian would want. Especially since she loves all of her people.

Duusu- Duusu creates as many sentimonsters as she wants, helping Tikki fill the world with monsters. Some sentimonsters are human like and some are not, some are safe and some are not. Duusu mainly stays with her Guardian who doesn’t mind Duusu’s terrifying creations. Just for fun though Duusu manipulates the emotions of humanity. Mainly turning them on one another for sick enjoyment. She sometimes imprisons them so they know how she and Nooroo felt.

Nooroo- Nooroo uses his power to force random people to turn into monsters, transforming them as if they were clay. Though he never leaves his Guardians side he transforms them into creepy monsters. Nooroo makes humanity suffer through what he endured under Gabriels hand. Not being able to move, takes away their mouths, or force them to follow orders. But if you live in Paris your safe as long as you live under their protection.

Longg- Longg controls the sky, creating deadly storms that have sank ships and ripped cities apart. Using the power of Limitation though they curse humanity to forever be flawed never allowing them to have their perfect world back. Longg creates tornados and cloudy skies blocking the sun. Unless you live in Paris.

Ziggy- Ziggy uses their powers to suppress the emotions of humanity, things like Love, and passion only exist in Paris.

Kaalki-Kaalki uses the power of stagnation to stop all animal migration causing the animals to turn violent and the natural order to topple. She has fun stealing people from where they are and teleporting them else where causing people to lose their family members and friends. Sometimes she rearranges the iconic monuments to be elsewhere, Kaalki likes to redesign the world by placing things or statues in places they don’t belong.

Barkk- Like a dog Barkk hunts down her victims, not giving them a chance to hide. She plays fetch with human beings and sometimes that causes a limb or two to be lost. She enjoys humiliating humanity, sometimes she bites the people she likes and turns them into were-beasts which is a high honor because they end up meeting the Guardian and enjoying the kindness given to them. Barkk mainly hangs out with the Guardian but from time to time she goes out of Paris to humiliate and torture humanity.

Stompp-Stompp doesn’t do much, he likes sleeping and being lazy. Though he does punish humans if they dare try to harm his people or territory. But if any of the people of Paris try to fight back Stompp has the power to steal their determination leaving them to the wrath of the Guardian. He can brainwash humans into accepting anything, no determination no revolution.

Orikko- Orikko loves to play god even if he is a literal god, he grants audience to people and gives them limited power at a price, it causes a lot of people to fall into debt with him. Sometimes he gives them the power they want only so it can backfire causing the person who asked for the power to lose everything and then enslaving them for all eternity. The only way out of enslavement is being transferred to another kwamis domain or territory. But the mercy of freedom from enslavement is if the Guardian chooses to free them and prints them back to her part of the Empire.

Roarr- Roarr loves to steal peoples happiness causing them to fall into deep depression, that sometimes causes the victim to fall. Roarr gathers the souls of the depressed and keeps them as Knick knacks. No one is safe from her soul collecting, that is unless the Guardian is gifted the soul and is freed.

Fluff- Fluff has fun conquering the timelines with her army and Alix. She mainly goes back into moments were her Guardian was hurt or bullied and tortures those that hurt her Guardian. Fluff also collects different versions of Marinette from different timelines, placing them in a sort of sanctuary. Though the Guardian says she can only have so many. The people of Paris under Fluffs control don’t mind serving her that is until you cross her and she turns you into one of her mindless soldiers.

Sass- Sass helps Fluff conquer the timelines by helping Alix and Luka with winning. Using his power he can see into different timelines through the Snake holders eyes, if Fluff likes their Marinette he’ll help capture her. Sass though loves torturing Gabriel and his accomplices over and over again, he has an eternal hell just for them. Sometimes he asks Nooroo to transform Gabriel into a useless Kwami so they can lock him in the same cages they were locked in and suck him dry of his life.

Xuppu- Xuppu sometimes joins in on the conquering of timelines only so he can make fun and mock Gabriel or the enemies of his Guardian. But Xuppu makes humanity his puppets, like a wish with a monkeys paw, he acts nice and grants them their wish with praises and false luck on so it can go wrong sometimes leading to death.

Mullo- Mullo is always on the conquering of timelines, her power to take away a persons power is needed every time. Though she sometimes uses her powers to take a limb or two away from a human or humans just for fun.

Daizzi- Using her power she reveals humanity’s deepest desires and takes them away. Diazzi sometimes even manipulates their desires to fit her needs. There are rare occasions where she meets kind-hearted people like her Guardian and trap them in their desire forever, it is her mercy. Then their are moments where she turns a desire into a nightmare.

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ilikeyoualive · 1 year

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Wendigo Simon "Ghost" Riley HC's

Warnings: Mentions of Cannibalism (duh), Possessiveness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wendigo's are their own warning really

Word Count: 724

Tagging @resident-idiot-simp because Wendigo Ghost Supremacy.

And, if your interest is piqued by this AU, feel free to check out my Main Masterlist!

My personal headcanon is that Wendigo's tend to be hoarders, although that particular instinct has been heavily repressed by Ghost due to a mixture of intense military training and sheer willpower. However, even though Ghost won’t randomly collect things that catch his eye in the field or on base, he still allows himself to covet essential items such as his tactical skull mask, his numerous skull-themed balaclava, and his favorite mug.

Seeing as they are particularly territorial of the things (or people) that they consider theirs, it’s kind of a big deal when they start giving and/or sharing stuff with others because it’s a sign of kinship and/or affection. So Ghost will randomly offer to make his team members a cup of tea when he’s making some for himself, subtly sharing with them. But he only does little things that wouldn’t be recognized as the affectionate gestures that they were unless you know him well.

So, for example, after the “Alone” mission in canon Ghost would simply let Soap keep the knife that he had found in the unfortunate Shadow that had crossed the Ghost’s path. To do this, Ghost probably just wouldn’t bring up the knife at all once everything has settled down, which in itself is a subtle indication that Soap has permission to keep it because if he didn’t want Soap to have it then he would bluntly ask for it to be returned.

Unfortunately, Soap still recalled how Ghost had said that he would like the knife back during the whole mess that was “Alone” and would totally approach Ghost privately to try and return it to him. Though Ghost wouldn’t move to take it, merely leveling poor Soap with that empty stare of his until Soap lost his nerve and beat a hasty retreat. The bizarre and nerve-racking experience would lead Soap to never try and give that particular item back again, but he does start carrying the knife with him on missions.

Due to the typically uncontrollable/untamable nature of his particular species, Ghost’s instincts are the hardest to repress, which makes hostile and bloodthirsty his default state of being. But with people that he sees as his (the 141, essentially) the urge to eat them decreases a significant amount, but that only makes the instinct to possess them all the worse. It’s a trade-off that Ghost is more than willing to make though, because he likes his team alive.

One of the pros of being seen as one of Ghost’s “possessions” is, first and foremost, that if he were to go into a feeding frenzy then you wouldn’t be on the menu. There’s also the simple fact that he’s easier to direct toward a target (or targets) while his higher brain function is switched off in favor of mindless feeding, which usually only happens when he’s “fatally” wounded in the field.

Not that he can actually be severely injured or killed by anything other than fire, that is. So Ghost is able to heal from wounds that would be a death sentence to a human and even other supernatural creatures because he only actually has one thing that can do serious damage to his person and since the fact that he’s a Wendigo is kept under lock and key -along with the knowledge that the supernatural exist in general- that means that most people wouldn't think to bring a flamethrower to a gunfight.

Ghost’s mind is dark and more than a bit twisted due to being a Wendigo for longer than he had been a human, so I see him as having a bit of what I like to call “Hannibal Mentality” where he just kinda wants to possess people and keep them with him forever. His way of doing so? Eating them.

Not, like, while they're alive mind you. But say, Roach were to die on a mission with Ghost, who would be compelled to eat Roach’s body since he doesn't have bodily functions that cause him to produce waste, so whatever he eats is quite literally with him forever. It would be challenging enough for him to simply give Price the dog tags instead of keeping them for himself, but there would certainly be no body to give to relatives or next of kin.

#cod cryptid au #cryptid tf 141 #headcanons #modern warfare ii #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #cod mw 2022 #mw2 2022 #cod modern warfare #simon riley #ghost #wendigo ghost #wendigo simon riley #ghostsoap #ghost x soap

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atimeofyourlife · 5 months

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Lost in time, lost in space, and meaning

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: platonic stobin | rated: m | wc: 795 | tags: platonic stobin, dr who au, minor robin/vickie, minor steve/tommy/carol, minor buckingham, minor steddie, alien fucker steve Robin and Steve meet a strange man called The Doctor, and they join him in his adventures in time and space, where they get themselves in and out of trouble, and fall in and out of love. title from Rocky Horror

Neither Steve or Robin had expected this when they stumbled across the strange blue box. They hadn't expected the strange man to come stumbling out and collapse at their feet. And they certainly hadn't expected to end up fighting the strange creatures that had appeared after they'd helped get the man some food and water, ensuring he was okay.

But, it got them an offer to join him in travelling. He'd introduced himself as The Doctor, and the box wasn't just a box. It was a machine that could take them just about anywhere in time and space. Neither of them had anything other than each other to tie them to their everyday lives, so it only took seconds to reach a mutual agreement to go. For the adventure of a lifetime.

Robin thought she would get a chance to put her language skills to the test, getting to converse in other languages when they visited somewhere that used a language that she already spoke, and getting to learn new languages everywhere else. It was a disappointment to find out they were covered by a universal translator.

Steve just wanted to experience every type of sport he possibly could. Ancient precursors to the sports he'd known and loved in their own time. Future sports that were millennia from being invented, the technology and techniques so far advanced that it would be inconceivable in their own time. And alien sports, that couldn't even translate to anything like earth sports, too different, too far removed from anything he'd ever known. But he loved every moment of it, experiencing things he never should have known existed.

Over their time with The Doctor, they both managed to get themselves into a wide range of trouble, leaving a number of time periods they would never be able to return to. They'd almost been arrested at various points, needing The Doctor to save them. In the times of the witch trials, they'd nearly gotten themselves executed for witchcraft. Steve had started a fistfight with the man who had brought conversion therapy into prominence. And both of them had had to make a hasty escape after not holding their tongue around various rich and powerful members of society across the ages, politicians, royalty, those who had caused social change for the worse.

Then there were the more fun reasons why they couldn't return to some periods. Steve's desire to flirt his way out of trouble, or to get information out of someone. Which often led to sex, which could be very interesting, especially when there were extra limbs or... appendages depending on the species. Robin always listened to Steve's tales of his encounters with both fascination and disgust.

"I don't care who or what you fuck, I just hope you're using condoms or whatever the alien equivalent is, because otherwise, you are going to be the source of some super-STI." Robin replied to Steve, after a lengthy and detailed account of the previous evening.

There was also both of them having relationships varying in seriousness. Robin falling head over heels with Vickie, an Irish immigrant in mid-1800's New York, having left Ireland during the Great Famine. It could have been forever, if not for Vickie's reluctance to leave her family, who she helped support.

Steve getting caught up with a couple, Tommy and Carol, in the early 22nd century. It was messy and painful all around, but Steve knew he would always hold some love for them.

Them both falling at the same time, for a pair of friends in a royal court. Robin falling for Christina, a lady-in-waiting to the princess, while Steve fell for Edward, the court jester. It felt magical, but they didn't know how to move forward. They couldn't just stay in place because of who they'd fallen for, and Edward and Christina couldn't come along. Neither of them understood where Steve and Robin had come from, or how they had appeared. They were cautious about anything, in fear of word reaching the king. Not wanting to risk their positions in the royal court, to lose their livelihoods or even their lives.

Steve and Robin hadn't wanted to, but they were able to move on. But always remembering what could have been with Edward and Christina. Occasionally, they would talk The Doctor into returning, not to make contact, but just to see how they were, if they were surviving.

Eventually they returned to their own time, to the lives they had taken a break from. It was strange, settling back into the monotony of normal life. But life had to move on. They moved to a new city, got new jobs. And even became close to Eddie and Chrissy, a strangely familiar pair of friends that lived opposite.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #dr who au fic #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #minor steddie #buckingham #minor buckingham #atimeofyourwrites

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glitchlight · 2 months

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The metastatic rot of capitalism infests things in a manner analogous to fractals: the smallest elements reflect the largest, each element is a representative of the whole. Every single thing in your life is infected by capitalism, by commodities and class and money. Each singular thing is a microcosm.

The thermostat is, in many respects, a miracle of modern engineering. The existence of air conditioning and heating has improved quality of life for billions in a very direct way. You can dissect this miracle made mundane a hundred different ways and here's two:

It is a joke that people get particular about adjusting the thermostat, but beyond the simple creature comfort of 72 vs. 68, there's structural anxiety of bills and of the cost of electricity that undergirds the humor. For the middle class or businesses, it becomes a cute joke, and for others an increase of 50 dollars in a month means going hungry.

Auto thermostats that can both heat and cool a building have existed for decades. And yet landlords still go with the cheap option of heat cool or off, because they'll save a few dozen dollars in the short term. And the company charges more for a redundant technology because they can, because competition in a niche field is so sparse that even the ostensible virtues of the child killing machine can't operate.

I'm so mad. I'm always so fucking mad about it. Every time I look at things I have to squint my eyes or look away. It's like staring into the sun. Truth comes with blinding rage. It's The commodities the cost and the price. They've poisoned us for profit, made living cost more than earning, and tomorrow will be worse and next year will be a nightmare. Forever, until they break us or we break them.

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artemisia-black · 2 years

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The soul in the Harry Potter universe; a joint meta with @ashesandhackles

1.0 Introduction

One of the main themes of the Harry Potter series is death; with explorations of the cost of earthbound immortality, resurrection and constructs of the afterlife being major sub-themes.

Death is so central to the series, that the story opens with a double murder, failed infanticide and the supposed death and defeat of Voldemort. Indeed, the book is named after a magical instrument that grants immortality ( the philosophers/sorcerers stone), and the book’s primary plot revolves around the plan to steal the Elixir of Life.

However, despite being a series that is so focused on death, death itself is not treated as an absolute finality. Indeed, Death is framed as a natural part of life that to the,

“ …well- organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.” PS

And it is via the soul that a person can access the afterlife and greet death like a friend, and in this meta, we will explore how the concept of the soul is constructed within the Harry Potter series.

2.0 The soul in the Wizarding World

This concept of the eternal soul finds its seeds as early as the Philosopher’s Stone - in the scene where Harry finds a slain unicorn in the forest.

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn,” said Firenze. “Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.” PS

This, right here, alludes to the idea of Voldemort maiming his soul in his greed for immortal earthbound life. The unicorn, as a symbol in myth, is to represent a “pure soul” - the killing of a pure soul to one’s own gain, would make his soul unable to go on to the Kingdom of Heaven, so to speak.

However, the existence of souls is explicitly confirmed in PoA, where the readers are first introduced to the nature of dementors:

“Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself . . . soul- less and evil. You’ll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.” PoA

And illustrates quite plainly what is “worse than death”:

“What — they kill — ?”

“Oh no,” said Lupin. “Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no ... anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just — exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever ... lost.” PoA

The idea of the soul being incredibly important to wizardkind is implicitly demonstrated through the reaction of Sirius Black towards the Dementors. Given that he is a character who shows little self preservation (he willingly lives on the edge of starvation several times), he only occasion he shows concern for his own welfare is when he is about to receive the Dementor’s kiss:

“ The yelping seemed to be coming from the ground near the edge of the lake. They pelted toward it, and Harry, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean — The yelping stopped abruptly. As they reached the lakeshore, they saw why — Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head

“Nooo,” he moaned. “Noooo ... please. ...” PoA

3.0 The soul and immortality

Having discussed the existence of the soul in the series, it is important to explore the limitations placed upon it.

3.1 Ghosts; souls that are bound to the earth

Within the universe, it appears that a soul must be contained within a body while on this plane of existence. Indeed, the idea of an earthbound soul free of its body is one which is either deemed morally repugnant (in the case of Horcruxes) or the shadow of human life (in the case of ghosts).

Within the Harry Potter universe, the ghosts linger in the liminal space between life and death, veritable proof of an after-life yet having no knowledge of it.

As Nearly Headless Nick explains:

“I……was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have ... Well, that is neither here nor there... In fact, I am neither here nor there...” He gave a small sad chuckle. “ OoTP

The idea of the wizarding afterlife is also hinted at when both Harry and Luna - characters who are in alignment with series’ position on Death (whereas rationalists like Hermione and Ron react differently) - hear voices whispering from behind the veil, whose ragged curtain mirrors descriptions of the Dementor’s cloaks. And much like when the dementors lower their hood to remove a soul, the touching of the veil also removes a soul from the earthly plane. The veil in the Death chamber acts as a separation between the earthly life and next. The imagery of the veil returns in the story of the second brother in the Tale of Deathly Hallows: “Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered.

Returning to ghosts; they are earth bound, yet cannot influence the physical space around them nor partake in any earthly delights. At the Deathday party, Harry asks one of the ghosts (who was floating through the rotten food):

“Can you taste it if you walk through it?” Harry asked him.

“Almost,” said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.” CoS

Yet they are conscious and have ‘memory’ of who they were when they were alive. Nick describes it as:

“.....an imprint….”

“ upon the earth, to walk palely where their living selves once trod….” OoTP

Indeed the construct of ghosts within HP, are congruent with the philosophical thinking of Rene Descartes.

In Meditations on First Philosophy, published in 1641, Descartes states that:

“ There is an outer world, which includes my body, but I could still exist even if it were all destroyed.”

He later furthered this idea, by merging the idea of mind and soul and exploring the dualism of the physical realm with the mental. In a letter to Princess Elizabeth of Bohemia, Descartes writes:

“…..These arise…from the close and intimate union of our mind with the body. This list includes, first, appetites like hunger and thirst; secondly, the emotions or passions of the mind that do not consist of thought alone, such as the emotions of anger, joy, sadness, and love; and finally, all the sensations….”

This sentiment echoes the ghost’s desire for food which is a recurring theme within canon. Indeed the first time Nick is introduced he states:

“I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it.” PS

3.2 A soul that is intact

The soul, as Slughorn notes in the Half Blood Prince, is meant to be “intact and whole” and that “splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.” This belief is embedded in the wizarding world, to the point, Hermione complains, “All I could find was this, in the introduction to Magick Moste Evile — listen — ‘Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction.’”

As a side note: the idea of a Horcrux being horrifying to wizards may be the primary reason behind Regulus Black’s defection.

In Goblet of Fire, we are introduced to the Unforgivables - in particular, the killing curse. But what does the killing curse actually do?

We begin with etymology, as confirmed from interviews: it comes from Aramaic, which means - “Let that thing be destroyed.” Goblet of Fire opens with the murder of the Riddles, which apparently caused no marks on the body and escaped any natural explanation for Muggle doctors. To their bewilderment, the Riddles apparently just “dropped dead”.

Later in the book, we get a description of the curse being performed:

“There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though something vast and invisible was soaring through the air - instantaneously, the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked but unmistakably dead.” GoF

We posit that “Avada Kedavra” releases the soul from its mortal container. The description of something “vast and invisible” is possibly the soul of the spider. This is the reason why Voldemort’s soul fractured when the curse rebounded on him:

“My curse was deflected by the woman’s foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah . . . pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost ... but still, I was alive.”

4.0 The pure soul; the true master of death

The acceptance of death (through not choosing to be earth bound) and a soul that is unmaimed is the key to both resurrection and access to the afterlife.

It is imperative to note that the central thesis of Deathly Hallows embodied by the Corinthian’s quote on Harry’s parents’ graves:

“The last enemy that will be defeated is Death.” DH

This quote is so central that it is explicitly explained within the text:

“It doesn’t mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry,” said Hermione, her voice gentle. “It means ... you know ... living beyond death. Living after death.” DH

This idea is set up from the first book, and while choosing a wand ( or the wand choosing him) Harry is intentionally paralleled with Voldemort, in a way that shows their differing attitude towards death. While their wand cores are from the same Phoenix ( a creature that frequently resurrects from the ashes), their wand wood is different, symbolic of their differing routes to resurrection. Harry’s wand wood is Holly, a symbol of protection and prosperity, with symbolism connected to Christ’s Crown of Thorns. Whereas Voldemort’s wand wood is Yew, which is known as a tree known for its ability to regenerate once its branches touch the ground, its berries and wood are also known for their poison. (Credit: indihpblog).In Order of Phoenix, the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore makes the series’ narrative conversation more explicit, not just with imagery of Fawkes swallowing the Killing Curse and being reborn, but also this:

“ There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

“You are quite wrong,” said Dumbledore. “Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness—”

To:

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit—” OoTP

Contrast this moment to how Dumbledore reacts to Voldemort’s ultimate fate as a maimed soul (represented by a flayed baby) in the King’s Cross scene.

“What is that, Professor?”

“Something that is beyond either of our help,” said Dumbledore.

Within this scene King’s Cross, provides a liminal space between life and death, and a symbol for limbo. A place many Catholics believe the souls of the unbaptised end up ( although this is not official catechism, it is a widely accepted concept by many catholics).