#even if it takes me ages to deliver ... or i dont manage to deliver at all bc i am just one human with this one body and a sick brain *sobs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diavolosthots · 3 years

Note

Hey dear! I hope that you have a good time! I want to make a request, but please delete it if you don't feel like doing it.

I saved that request in the notes and been waiting for you to open them 😊

For request

First fight with brother (any of your choice) and one of them (I mean MC or that brother) thinks that it's end of relationship (because never had anything serious), but they reconciled in the end. I want some heavy angst with happy ending. MC can be GN if that is OK.

If you don't mind you can do for Mammon, but feel free to choose another one if you don't feel like write for him. Or if that would be better to write as headcanons for all the brothers. That's up to you!

I haven't been doing requests for ages. Please don't hate me if there is something wrong! I've read the rules, and I hope I haven't missed anything.

Anyway, sorry for long ask. And thank you for your writings!

(I forgot to look if you did anything similar, and remembered it at the end of writing that ask. Sorry if you already did something like that!)

Hey babes ❤ I did end up doing HCs for all of them because I thought it would be cooler (or more like I know someone is gonna request separate fics for all of them if I dont and I'm saving myself that trouble lol) I still hope you like it ! ❤ also this got SUPER LONG so its under a cut

Warning: angst -> happy ending-ish

THE BROTHERS in a fight with MC and thinking that they’re over (yikes)

Lucifer:

Everyone always says Lucifer is quick to lose his cool but he’s honestly been nothing but patient with you. He may have hinted at several things he doesn’t condone and he definitely has that ‘look’, you know the disappointed dad look, but he has held back a lot so as to not ruin the beautiful relationship you have with him. Everyone snaps, though, and when he finally did, it was ugly. He did NOT call you names, but oh he didn’t. He went straight for your feelings and pointed out every mistake you ever made for as long as he’s known you. Ouch. In his defense, you weren’t nice either. The argument ended nasty and ‘I hate you’s!’ were definitely thrown around, but none of them were meant, right? Goodness, he doesn’t know. After you left, he threw himself on his bed, literally, and just stared at the ceiling. His anger slowly fled away and he began to feel… guilty. Not necessarily because of the argument itself, but because he delivered some low blows and he knows that. Are you over? Done with him? You haven’t texted or called or talked… you’ve been actively avoiding him and he doesn’t like that, but his pride is such an issue, goodness. He can’t straight up apologize, that dickhead, but he’s sending you flowers and standing in front of your door with a sad face that says it all.

“Forgive me? I made reservations at your favorite’s? We can talk over a nice dinner?”

Mammon:

Mammon is known to get mildly agitated over the silliest things, let’s be real. He’s also quick to revert to the “are you dumb?!” argument, which is never effective. But he loves you and he would do anything for you so even if you do do something that he deems ‘dumb’, he usually bites his tongue. Doesn’t mean that doesn’t get on his nerves, though, and he definitely has a short temper, although people tend to overlook that. You just managed to push his buttons today and he used the “are ya stupid?!” argument, to which you obviously defended yourself, and rightfully so. This ended in a massive screaming match and him saying “Then leave! Ain’t nobody keepin’ ya with me!” He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth and you could see his eyes grow wide in shock at his own words, but that didn’t mean you stayed. “MC!” he tried running after you immediately but you were faster and honestly, who can blame you? He fucked up, and he knows it, and he feels terrible about it. Honestly, he’s crying just at the mere thought of you taking his words seriously and he can’t… he can’t bear to lose you, you know? What’s he gonna do? You’re the light of his life, as pathetic as that may sound to some…. So he won’t let you run away. Homie will hunt you down and beg for forgiveness.

“Please, MC! Forgive me! I’m dumb, not you!!! Don’t leave me…” Don’t leave him. He will continue crying.

Leviathan:

His constant need to put himself down is frankly, quite annoying. To you anyway. But you put up with it and just reassure him that, at least to you, he’s the most amazing demon that ever existed. It’s just facts. But a person only has so much patience, right? You can’t always spend your days trying to lift him up when all he does is dig himself a bigger hole. Who has the emotional time for that? You sure don’t. “Oh my God, Levi! Shut up! I can’t take it anymore!” Followed by “See! You’re just like everyone else! Leaving me!” and then you slamming the door to his room shut. It’s frustrating and understandably so. It makes you feel awful that you can’t even make your own boyfriend feel good about himself and get at least a little bit of self confidence and it’s so, so, so very draining to have to constantly listen to that. At this point, it’s affecting your own mental health and you just… you just can’t…. But Levi can’t lose you because he knows you’re right. He has to work on himself if he wants to keep someone as amazing as you with him and that’s why he’s crawling back to you now.

“Look I… I know you’re right… I’m sorry. I promise I’ll … I’ll try. For you.”

Satan:

For being the Avatar of Wrath, you always admired Satan for his ability to keep cool. He prefers the relaxed and easy going life much more than the type of life people expect him to live, and you respect that. That doesn’t mean his constant need to one up Lucifer, through whatever means necessary, didn’t bother the hell out of you, though. You tried talking to him about it once or twice in a calm manner, but you always got the same answer “Pfft.. it’s Lucifer. Who cares?” And it never sat right with you. Just today he decided to pull a prank on the eldest and you had enough, standing in front of Lucifer and letting the bucket of cursed green slime land on you instead, to everyone’s shock. “What are you doing?!” Now that you’re thoroughly green from head to toe, you were also beyond pissed. “What am I doing?! What are YOU doing?!” But Satan matched your anger tenfold, accusing you of favoring Lucifer over him and oh! “You probably got an affair with him, too!” Which was a stupid thing on his part, but it looked like it the way you defended him. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion you felt running through you and had it not been for Lucifer, you probably would’ve physically fought Satan for such a dumb accusation. Lucifer took you to get cleaned up and lifted the course, giving you your natural skin and hair color back within a few days and plenty of scrubbing, and Satan felt like shit. You’ve always been there for him and, rationally speaking, he didn’t have a reason to doubt your loyalty to him, but he just can’t help but feel insecure beside Lucifer…. He decides to come apologize anyway, a deep blush on his face and guilt in his eyes

“I’m… sorry for accusing you. It wasn’t my right to speak out of anger and jealousy…”

Asmodeus:

How can anyone fight with the Avatar of Lust? Seriously, the guy is super easy going and he loves pretty much everyone. Not as much as himself, but almost. You on the other hand… you didn’t. Well you didn’t NOT love him or yourself, but you were just… you. You didn’t spend 4+ hours in the bathroom trying to get ready when you knew you were only going to the kitchen down the stairs. Like?? Although you never brought it up to Asmodeus, he constantly bothered you about skincare and what foods to eat and what not to eat, etc… It’s quite annoying, honestly, and at some point you just gave him a passive aggressive “Okay, whatever. Can we move on now?” To which he didn’t take lightly. He was still nice and sweet, trying to convince you that at least one of these things will make your skin glow brighter than a unicorn’s ass but you just had enough. “Can you stop?! You’re indirectly saying I’m ugly without that shit ton of product in my face and a diet that would make me starve before it helped me! If you want a skinny VS angel that barely holds onto their skeleton, get one!” It was more hurt and frustration speaking than anything, but your outburst still shocked him and he was taken aback for a moment. And then you ignored him for a week straight and as someone who thrives off of attention, especially the kind he gets from you, he can’t handle that! So he showed up in your room in sweats and a tshirt and messy hair and no product on his skin.

“You’re right… we’re all naturally beautiful…. Wow that… that really hurts to say MC but can you forgive me?”

Beelzebub:

Oh the sweet, sweet angel. He’s far from innocent and you know that. We all know that. But for this story, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. His reliance on Belphegor is just really… annoying. Belphegor this, Belphegor that. “Belphie used to…” or “Belphie said….” or “one day when Belphie and I….” Like why does everything have to include his twin? It’s so annoying and so rude when your significant other is right here !!! and planning their own future with you, Beel, thanks. It makes you feel less than and like Belphegor will always come before you. It makes you feel like shit, quite frankly, and who is to blame you? “Hey MC did I tell you what Belphie---!” “No! Shut up! I don’t care! It’s always about Belphie! The day you come to me and don’t let that name drip from your tongue is the day Jesus comes back to save me and we both know that will be never! I’m tired of always being stuck with Belphegor! We are not equals!” Granted, you shouldn’t have yelled and Beel was more than confused at your outburst, but you wouldn’t talk to him anymore after that so he left you alone. He thought you may need an hour or two, maybe a day tops, but that day turned into a full week and he even lost his appetite just because he knows you’re angry with him. It’s been a week, does that mean you’re over? His heart aches just at the thought…

“I’m sorry for bringing Belphie up… I don’t want you to feel less than, MC. You mean a lot to me and so does Belphie, but you’re not Belphie and I need to learn that…”

Belphegor:

Honestly it’s a miracle he hasn’t lost his temper at you yet. Well, he partially blames it on his own laziness because if being angry or getting upset didn’t take so much energy out of him, maybe he would’ve snapped by now lol, but he tries really hard not to because he thinks your relationship with him after everything is pretty good, considering yall kiss and snuggle and fuck on a regular basis. But anyway, that’s exactly the issue. Considering everything, you’re still holding *that* against him. It’s never direct either, which makes it worse. It’s always said in a joking manner and something like “haha look it’s just like that one time you killed me” or “Beel’s grabbing that ham like you grabbed my throat” or “I remember seeing jesus for a moment there” and it agitates him. It makes him so angry, and he finally snapped. “I know I fucked up MC! Stop holding it against me! What do you want? A medal of honor? A survivor's certificate? Maybe a pat on the back for developing some sort of Stockholm syndrome that made you come back to your abuser?!” And then he left. And you may have cried both from confusion and your own anger, he isn’t quite sure. It’s just so…. Aggravating. He can’t deal with it. He knows it was a mistake spurted by his own insecurities and survivor’s guilt which ultimately led to his hatred but please, stop holding it against him.. He can’t keep putting up with it from the person he’s grown to love. He’s the one ignoring you and he won’t budge either because he’s a stubborn ass, but maybe if you come up first…

“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I’m just so tired for it being held against me… I love you, and you should know that, and I do feel guilty about what happened.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #cheys headcanons #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #tw angst

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

Delivery HCs with 1-A’s Big Three

A/N: Maybe I’m a bit biased because I want to be a pediatrician when I’m older, but I think children are the true gems of the world. I’ve seen a few deliveries in my life, and it’s a moment that not even magic can explain. I can only imagine what it’s like for the parents--to see the baby you’d start a war for if need be. So, here’s my attempt to translate that special love within a headcanon.

Enjoy and continue to stay safe honey bunnies

Also, remember to thank a (good) mother for being literal superheroes once in awhile. Delivering is no joke!

Warnings: all the wonderful things that come with pushing a baby out of a 3-4in hole

All characters are aged 18+

Midoryia Izuku:

when you and your husband got to the hospital, the nurses were suprised to find you laughing and your husband muttering

they soon came to find out he was reciting how to books about delivery

word-for-word

the buff, muscley, #1 hero who scared villains into a crime rate of 2% was wiggling his knees in fear every time you had a contraction

he was running around, calling his friends and family about how he was going to combust

asked you every five minutes if you were ready to push

“izu, honey, i don’t think it works like that”

“true....but are you ready?”

it was funny

but it stopped being funny after 14 hours of labor, when the contractions got really bad

now you were just snapping at izuku to quiet down otherwise you’d united states smash his face in

him: 😧

the nurses: 👀

he knows you’re in pain but damn

it’s a relief when you get the epidural

after that, it was a relatively smooth birth

it still hurt like hell, but your husband is holding your hand, giving you encouraging kisses

one final push and the baby is out

immediately, the little boy is screaming his head off making his presence known

you let your head fall back with a relieved sigh as your body works to get the placenta out

whiles you do tiny pushes, izuku is in a love-struck daze as he stares at your son

it’s like he has tunnel vision

suddenly, nothing in his life was ever more important than this tiny little human who couldn’t weigh more than his left hand

the nurses hand you your son and you laugh through your happy tears

“it looks like i’ve got two cry-babies to deal with now” you lovingly smile

izuku is on his knees, sobbing, kissing your forehead and rubbing his finger against his child’s cheek

he’s so thankful

he’s so very thankful, he doesn’t even know how to comprehend it

you’re the best hero in his eyes

“he’s so beautiful” he repeats, like a broken record

there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you or his son

he silently makes an oath to do everything in his power to see his family smile with security every day

izuku feels like he finally knows what being #1 truly is

Bakugo Katsuki:

pregnancy wasn’t easy for you

having twins wasn’t rare, but it made the process riskier

giving birth is still quite dangerous, like women are superheroes bruh

due to forseen complications, you were scheduled for a c-section

unfortunately, you’re blood pressure sky-rocketed and you had to deliver your babies two weeks early

on the way to the hospital, your contractions were tearing you apart

during each shake and scream you gave, katsuki would hold your shoulder and let you dig your nails into his arms

he took it without complaint

it was like you were a different person when a contraction hit

you never complained about the pain, but he could tell you wanted it to end with how your head would fall like dead weight

never admits to the few tears that slipped past his cheeks

he never wanted to see you like this again

when you make it to the hospital, they wheel you into the surgery room and he follows after

is relieved to see that you can no longer feel the contractions

in fact, even with all the IVs in you, you seem a lot better--more alert

he makes his way over to you

“sorry for the car ride. i think i drooled. i probably looked gross. still do” you joke

he speaks in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, kiss your dry lips

“no baby, you look beauitful”

and he means it

you do. you’re the most beautiful woman he knows

you feel a lot of pressure as they take the babies out, but once they do, the sounds of your children make you tear up

bakugo is frozen as he watches his babies, one boy one girl, get cleaned up

there’s a softness in the air as the nurses lay the boy on your chest and the girl in katsuki’s arms

your heart explodes with so much love that the heart monitor does a little jump that makes everyone laugh

but katsuki makes a pained expression before lowering himself so that his forehead rests beside your ear

he can’t tell what he’s feeling bc he’s felt love before but this was different

this was so overwhelming that it sent his knees buckling

you use your free hand to smooth down his hair as he cries

“thank you” is all he’s able to say until the tears are gone

Todoroki Shouto:

when shouto looks back on one of the happiest days of his life, all he feels is shame and embarrassment

he was just doing everything wrong that day

no thoughts, head empty

of course you had to go into labor the day he decided to take a tiny job 30 fucking minutes away from the hospital

he made it to you in 20, he broke several laws to do it

when he gets to the hosptial, he can barely talk

the nurses had to call you to make sure this crazy man was actually the father of your child

misses the baby floor twice

walks into the wrong room three times bc he forgot how to read

when he finally makes it to your room, he’s fed up with himself

“what took you so long? the front desk called me, like, ten minutes ago”

“i don’t wanna talk about it”

“are you having an attitude with me right now? when i’m about to deliver your child?”

shouto: ☹️

shutting up was the smartest thing he did that day

when the 15th hour of labor hit and you were gripping your husband, screaming and rocking on your knees for any type of relief, todoroki was nearly begging you to take the drugs

“sweetheart, please consider the epidural”

“no, shouto. i’m doing this without one”

“why do you want to suffer when technology and modern medicine--”

“todoroki shouto, you give me one more lesson about modern medicine and i’ll rip your quirk right out of you”

“i dont think that’s--”

the nurse finally chimes in: “sir, i mean this in the nicest way possible. shut up”

after 24 grueling hours, you’re pushing

it’s taking everything within shouto not to pass out from the blood, the screaming, and how tight you’re squeezing his hand

the baby is out and crying her little head off

you’re happy it’s all over and shouto should be too

but he’s going over the past 48hrs and letting it confirm how he’s just not set up to be a father

he’s almost grateful that you would hold her first bc he doesnt want to screw up more than he already has, but you have a different idea

understanding the emotions and self-doubt reflected on his face, you say

“shouto, i want you to hold her first”

he’s shocked and starts his stuttering, but the nurse is already on it

“you heard mama, open your arms big guy”

once the nurse helps him find a good hold, todoroki doesnt even notice the tears falling down his cheeks

“look at you,” you sniff. “you’re a natural”

his eyes are wide with child-like wonder and he manages to give you a trembling smile

“you think so?” you nod and he’s smiling so big, you wanna take a picture. “she’s so beautiful, just like her mother”

he leans down to kiss you

wonders what he did in his past life to deserve the love he was given the chance to feel today

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sydneyshipsstuff · 3 years

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so uh last night at like 4 am i couldnt sleep, decided to walk my dog, and came up with this bad boy. It’s a rough draft, though. um @professional-benaddict read it and told me to post it, so whatever rafni says goes.

-Little! Peter with like everyone lmao (platonically), but main pairing is Tony x Peter. everyone is 18+ and Littles are known. but yeah, I call this “uncanonically Canon AU” because it follows canon character tropes (except Peter).

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

so i LOVE the doctor trope w stephen and tony to death, like probably a lil too much, but hear me out

--canon tony and the avengers with not canon (aka powerless) little peter

--im thinking how they met is before peter became classified as a little, he was smart smart. so, he still gets the internship, but a real one this time.

--hes hanging out with the other interns when he feels himself regress. he freaks and goes to hide in a bathroom or something

--he runs into (probably pepper??) someone and they help him get out of the tower because he's obviously very vulnerable

--they (pepper?) take him to the hospital to get tested and find out hes a high care little. once they find out peter freaks out because omg he cant work like this

--(pepper?) assures him that they will figure it our, but with no CG, and just for plot sake, he also is living alone at this point so they dont feel comfortable sending him home, so he stays overnight, at least, in the hospital

--(pepper?) goes to talk to tony himself about this since hes the one who chose and hired the interns. tony isnt quite sure what to do because peter is one of the best in their group

--(pepper?) suggests that he go have a one on one talk with peter and see what the boy wants to do with his future, and also meet with the doctors to see what they think is best for his future

--now, tony has met peter a few times, and the kid is pretty cool, but he never really cared about him (harsh, but canon tony is pretty reserved so yuh) so, when he goes into the hospital room to talk with him, hes mentally preparing to never see peter again

--but, when he walks in, he sees peter sat on a cot carefully coloring in an avengers coloring book, and his entire aura is different and /adorable/

--as if he wasnt already kinda done for, when peter notices he's there, he looks up, eyes blown wide and a kid-like face on full of awe

--he sits on the end of the bed and they simply stare at each other before peter finally gets the courage to ask why tony is there, stuttering through it like an adorable mess

--tony freaks out, because as good as peter is, he planned on letting peter down, but now that hes here, all he wants is to see the boy.

--instead he smooths his nervousness and easily asks about how the boy is doing. he asks if peter has a CG, and predicably, peter just sadly shakes his head

--anyways i dont really know how this part would be worded, and it probably wouldnt happen in just one day, but eventually tony asks peter if he wants tony to take care of him

--peter is a cutie and accepts, again dont really have this part planned out, im akward when it comes to writing about the adopting of a little

--he goes with tony and since he lives in the tower, he also gets the avengers as glorified CGs. now this is the part i LOVE

***added part by Rafni:

"I’d imagine that Peter would just be kept in the hospital, like he doesn’t need any meds nor saline so he doesn’t even have a drip nor is he hooked up to any monitors. He is just there in the hospital pyjamas colouring and waiting for someone to take care of him🥺👀"

And since there’s no medical concerns (anymore) the nurses would have more time to just chat with Peter and make sure he is like mentally taken care of 🌸🌸

---

tony stark- he's obviously the main man and does all the main caring. hes the one who sleeps with peter and makes sure he gets food, and plans the days. he also sometimes will hand make little gadgets (safe ofc) to occupy peter. he gets peter little engineering/inventing kits and will hold back any groans he has as peter hits his leg with a plastic hammer and screwdriver. he also is the one who is ALWAYS there, when he cries, when he's happy, when he's sad.

thor- he lets peter play with his hair, and even lets the boy snuggle, and sometimes even chew on, mjolnir (because of course peter would be worthy)

steve rogers- he lets peter look at and hold the shield. one day he finds the boy curled like a cat dosing on the inside of it

natasha- she speaks in russian to him, and when he goes outside to the park, shes there making sure no one disturbs him

wanda+sam (i had an idea for them when i originally thought of this, but i cant remember it now :/)

bucky- he lets peter also mess with his hair, although more rare than thor, but he does let peter suck on his metal fingers when hes really small, and will scratch peters scalp with it, the metal scratching much better than normal skin. also if he ever gets a fever, the cold of the arm feels amazing on his forehead

bruce- not strictly canon since hes more sciency than doctor, but i imagine bruce is the one who does checkups and takes care of the meds when peter is sick

stephen- he doesnt do it often, plus he's not at the tower much, but hell do little harmless "magic" tricks to excite Peter and when peter gets grumpy, stephen will give him a little stress spell thing to calm peter down

peter quill- i imagine hes the one who is down to do lots of fun stuff, but is also the most reckless towards the actions suited towards littles, getting a lot of scolding from tony. also, he has great taste in music, so when peter has bursts of energy, he'll bounce around the room dancing to old 80s music

rocket- hes the closest peters ever gonna get to a pet, and with lots of bribing from tony, rocket /occasionally/ lets peter pet him and feed him "treats", sometimes peter will ask rocket to do a trick like jump or spin, but rocket with always decline...at first. peters trademark pouts do the trick because either rocket will concede and hurt his pride, or tony will see and threaten rocket into making his little boy happy. its always worth it to see the happy little squirms and claps

gamora- she's the resident story teller. when its bedtime, she'll share her cool space stories, leaving out the gory/scarier aspects. it always does the trick as hes out in minutes. sometimes hell catch her and peter q engaging in loving activities (ie kissing, hugging, whatever), and he'll just giggle away, and as embarrassed as gamora gets, not being an openly affectionate person, she might just go to the extreme to hear the cute giggles out of the little boy

clint- hes pretty chill with peter. he also likes to play games with the boy, playing things like peek-a-boo when he's super small, or playing darts when he feels older. tony isnt /too/ happy about it, but its better than quill so he doesnt say anything.

pepper is there too because i love the idea of tony working away somewhere and pepper calling peter in, handing him a few sheets of paper, sometimes actual documents, sometimes just scratch paper to entertaim the boy, before asking peter to deliver them to tony. she always has a smile when peter eagerly nods with his whole body before running to the office to give tony the papers. it almost always ends with peter in his lap, but it /always/ ends in tony praising him, saying something along the lines of 'theres my little helper boy. look at you'

---

--on any particular day peter wakes up aged up, he doesn't even miss his old internship because this life is so much better, although on these days tony actually lets him help with some safer stuff in the lab with him

--also, they are still the avengers and still have to save the universe. tony leaves him in the care of Happy or Pepper, trusting them both to handle him. sometimes, it ends in disaster. sometimes, they are lucky enough to find happy laying on the couch, with a drooling little boy soaking his suit

--no matter how things end up, it never gets old being able to come home and cuddle up with the reason tony wants to save the universe.

--its no surprise peter is able to help the man just as much as tony helps him. tony stops locking himself up so late at night so he can put peter to bed and cuddle up. he stops drinking when he's stressed, instead finding his boy and reading a story to him. his hookups end, he wants to be there for peter all the time. he gets more work done, the added bonus of having a pretty little boy in his lap helping keep his mind on track.

--tony still has his canon issues, but having peter there makes everything a little more manageable. and when he eventually gets too old to be ironman, its okay, because his universe is lying in bed, a red pacifier in his mouth, and a family of superheroes softly arguing about who the boy loves most

--and despite tony being a narcissist, he knows this is not that, when he thinks that without a doubt he is peters favorite. after all, peter helped him see the good inside the bad

---

so uh yeah thats all i had to say. maybe in the future it will become an actual thing, idk. i still have so many projects im working on first. feel free to add whatever you want to it though !!

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

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Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :

Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason

Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!

CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence

Burning Maze Spoilers

he used to be nice.

He used to be nice.

Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.

*Two hours earlier*

“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”

The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.

“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"

The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.

“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.

“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”

He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.

By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”

She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”

“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.

Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.

He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.

He used to be nice.

Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.

He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.

Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.

The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—

The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.

“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.

He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.

Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.

“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.

Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.

“What happened?” He repeats.

And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”

He used to be nice.

It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.

Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.

“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.

“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.

“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”

With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.

“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”

“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."

Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.

“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”

The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.

“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”

“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”

A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”

The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”

“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.

The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.

He used to be nice.

“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”

The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.

“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”

“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”

“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”

The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”

And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.

Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.

Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.

“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”

Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.

Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.

“Apologise for killing my friend.”

“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.

A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.

“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”

Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”

He used to be nice.

Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,

He used to be nice.

Until someone killed his friends.

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[image id: printed text that reads, "I used to be nice." end id]

#Percy Jackson #Jason grace #Annabeth Chase #Caligula #PJJG fanfic #He used to be nice #Firerose requests #PJJG asks #burning maze spoilers #toa spoilers #trials of apollo spoilers

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betweentheracks · 3 years

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Heyo! Not to be too nosy here but you mentioned you're in bad health and recovering, and I just wondered what happened? Also how would it impact your career since, from how you've made it all seem thus far, it's a highly active and demanding job?

Hope you take care and get well! You appear quite strong and not like you'd take whatever has happened just lying down, so here's to you!! 🙏💓

No sweat and no worries here, I dont find this particularly invasive. If anything, I'm flattered you care to ask after me lol. 😁

A few weeks back I met a friend I hadn't seen in some time for lunch. This was against my better sense of caution that I've held firmly to throughout the pandemic, but I would feel regretful and dismissive if I didnt agree to see her while I had the chance. I should've listened my gut and stayed safely at work because this "friend" failed to mention she had tested positive (she knew already by the time of our lunch date, she has since admitted) and had figured since she had no symptoms there was no harm in being in public.

FF only a few days later and I was feeling a little unwell but had put it off as an effect of the winter blast that had just hit where I live. I'd spent half a day out in the cold and snow for a photoshoot only the day before and thought it was probably due to that since I'm susceptible to weather influenced head colds and bronchitis. Fortunately, my job mandates a rigid COVID-19 screening twice a week due to our high profile clientele and as an assurance of health and safety for us all. Mine read back with a positive and with the way I had been feeling I was immediately sent home and the company closed its doors while the building was sterilized and our clients notified.

Thankfully I managed not to infect anyone I work with nor my son. Regrettably, I did infect my best friend since we're horrifically incapable of maintaining personal space and have weak shit immune systems. We both agree it is a wonder we made it this far into plague times without it catching us.

So I went and got looked over and sent on my way with my prescription of potent anti-virals and steroids. I was well prepared to abide the quarantine guidelines and had sent my son to my mother's home for the duration so that he was out of the danger zone. It was fine, I was kinda cool and keen on getting a few days to myself to rest up and all that jazz. But it wasn't meant to last and I found trouble in the form of being unable to remain conscious much at all and would pass out constantly. After a few times of this I gave my brother (he's a doctor and vaccinated) a ring and told him that my fatigue was no joke dude and needed him to come give me a better once over than the one I'd gotten before bc I was sure I was not meant to feel this badly. He found me unconscious in the shower that night, my head battered from crashing to the basin.

After ensuring I wasn't concussed and jokes on what a hard head I have to take such a beating and show no signs of registering it beyond bruising (a joke between us due to him having once accidentally put a golf club into my forehead and fracturing my skull but that's a different story) he told me to call him regularly so that he can review how I feel and the progression of my symptoms and left. By the morning I had already had two more instances of sudden fatigue and collapsing in on myself. I had been posting on my main blog here about how I was doing and due to this I caught the concern of @peekbackstage and upon their suggestion to have my O2 levels tested it was revealed that I was having issues with my blood not circulating oxygen as it should and nearing hypoxia.

Here's the rub. I have a heart condition that is already very dangerous and bleak which limits my heart's capability of delivering blood through my body as it should. Cardiomyopathy or, as it seems better known, congestive heart failure. I've had surgery for it and it has been a while since it caused me any real issues as long as I stick to my routine of care and manage my health, but when COVID-19 infiltrated my body it immediately snagged upon this weak heart of mine and sank its fangs in.

Within a day of being admitted to the hospital I had a grand mal seizure due to the constant fluctuations of oxygen in my blood and the way my body was working double time to supplement for it. And only 2 days after that and when my nervous system had finally quieted down, I went into full cardiac arrest with a heart attack at my young age.

My next weeks were spent connected to machines doing more for me than my own body could. I developed pneumonia in my lungs, acute though it was it was still another complication that my wrecked body had to overcome as it made my already ragged breathing even worse. I was steadily shedding muscle tone and definition due to a lack of mobility and the fact that my body felt like a deadweight I could hardly take command of, and generally very weakened. My heart, the horrible thing, was inflamed and trying too hard by beating too fast, too hard.

FF some more and I was doing fairly well and treatments were showing some improvement. My heart was still being an ugly and gnarled beast in my chest and throwing weird spikes on the monitor that raised alarms. The pneumonia was retreating and I had no further seizures. It was the dawning light of my first signs that I was recovering!

It took a while more and so fucking many tests day in and day out for me get cleared for release. I tested negative for COVID-19 and was ashamed that I actually forgot that that was why I was even in the hospital to begin with, given all that happened. I have to undergo physical therapy and counseling; PT for heart happy exercises as well as to manage to my depleted muscles, counseling bc I was rocked mentally from all the almost dying and the depressive haze of being holed up in the hospital and surrounded by people who, like me, came in with COVID-19 but unlike me did not come out of it.

I'm home now. I had to have a pacemaker implanted and must stay vigilant for any showing that my heart is not performing as it should. I still have some severe inflammation and chest restriction in my airways as well as my blood vessels but nothing too daunting. I also have a full battalion of prescriptions, most for my heart, and a nebulizer to ease any breathing issues. The worst is honestly that I still am very weak and have severely limited reserves of energy.

My job is required to make me take 12 weeks of leave for rest and recuperation. This is very upsetting since I had been requested by name to be an assistant stylist at the Grammys this year which is truly a dream (especially with BTS in the mix 😩😩) and also bc I'm just a workaholic by nature and love my job. When I return I am expected to learn how to properly delegate tasks that do not directly require me to handle and slow down the pacing of my projects. My boss terminated a contract with a client that was nearing the scheduled end of our agreement and was also incredibly problematic to help lighten my workload. It's imperative that I reign in my stress levels or my heart will not last until the next surgery I'll need, so I'm gritting my teeth and letting my job be picked apart to reduce my responsibilities.

My post awaits my return but I will not be returning to full activity for a while after, which means no rifling through the racks for hours alongside the archivists in search of the perfect piece. I'll be welcome to meet with my clients and oversee the glam teams, will still be the command tower for final verdicts on which styles to use. But I will not be running around showrooms nor personally handling matters any competent trainee could be tasked with like I've always done. I will no longer be able to fly out anywhere for destination shoots or fashion shows.

If, after my next surgery, things are better and my heart stable to the point that they are hopeful of things will be reevaluated. While it is difficult beyond measure for me to relinquish the reigns of my career and be restricted in what I can do now, I am very thankful to be alive and upright when that wasn't a certainty just a little while ago. This is such a humbling experience to have survived when my stats kept dropping every day. I've been told to expect that I will never make a full 100% recovery and to expect to stall out around the 70%-90% range, with 70% being the most realistic.

My best friend (the one I gave the plague to) will be moving in with me so that I am never on my own if things go tits up and to assist in wrangling a toddler since I am currently without the energy to do so as my child is, sincerely, a crazy gremlin spawn with limitless battery life. Slowly, my life will regain some normalcy 💖

#racks asks #personal and long winded - read at own risk

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deathvsthemaiden · 3 years

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ok wait after u sent me that ask i have to know ur top books!!! dw if u don't feel like it but i would love to hear them 🌷

This is so sweet and considerate! Thank you Eva, you gave me 5 so I’ll try to keep it to that # as well 💖🐰 off the top of my head:

🌷 The Stormlight Archive series, especially the second book, Words of Radiance. Stormlight is like 4 books + 2 novellas right now, and is projected to be 10 books and ???novellas eventually. And on top of that each main book is 1000+ pages and while you can read Stormlight on its own, most of the other books by the author, Brandon Sanderson, are part of this larger fictional universe called the cosmere. Each series takes place on a different planet, and if you are invested in the whole cosmere, there’s Easter egg references to other series in other series. So like! While I rec these books often, most people understandably don’t take me up on it wgshshh 🤭 Sanderson’s non-Stormlight books are all MUCH shorter but also much more flawed imo. Like I wouldn’t count him among my favorite authors were it not for Stormlight. anyway I’m a die hard fantasy fan so the length didn’t deter me, and I picked these up because a friend told me the world building in these books was genuinely unique instead of the typical very lazy maps composed of like. Fantasy Russia and its hostile mysterious neighbors Fantasy General East Asia and Fantasy Africa lol. and she was right! The world building is exquisite and refreshing and almost every character is canonically of color. They live in a society with an eye color based caste system and it’s.., so hard to sum up this massive series with four main characters and a ridiculous(ly fun) amount of plot lines, so I’ll cut this short and say 1) the first book, The Way of Kings, is highly expository but the ending is so so worth it, and if you enjoy the ending you’ll find merit in continuing with the series 2) Words of Radiance is my favorite book so far partially because I haven’t read the newest, Rhythm of War, yet, and also because it’s the book with the most scenes that solidified Kaladin Stormblessed (one of the main characters) as one of my favorites of all time. Another one of the best things about this series is how Brandon Sanderson portrays mental health in very natural ways, and it makes Kaladin’s growth so incredibly soothing to follow (I MEAN. He has low points that sometimes hit too close to home, but it makes you root for him harder) he really is just. Truly my definition of a hero, if we wanna get cheesy about it, and I had to pick one solid example. I love him so much this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg as to why 😭!

🌷Jane Eyre. Silly frivolous teenaged girl that I am this book swept me off my feet when I first read it and I condone every problematic aspect of it❤️ (I DONT ofc but like! I love drama and being played like a fiddle by narratives and the book delivered on both fronts! And it couldn’t have without its unsavory plot twist soooo 😙💖) (the hate this book and especially one specific character gets is funny to me just because like. Hate for the former (imo) usually stems from people taking the book too seriously while simultaneously missing the point (JE and du Maurier’s Rebecca (highly influenced by the former) are oft considered loose Bluebeard retellings for a reasonnnn!) and hate for the latter is usually just like. Warranted and then taken over the top like... he’s just a fake funny little man you guys :( and the book would’ve been boring if he wasn’t so twisted and out of touch and passionate ): not to mention I do personally in a mean ish way think it’s funny how for some people this character is one of the worst examples of men they can imagine. Like good for Them! I don’t want them to have lower standards for horribleness in people But also omg 🤭 it just reminds me of how... irony of all ironies, I’m semi frequently told I’m too harsh on real life men and then when I love twisted ones in books (for being funny and entertaining and good solid characters) I like. get the most interesting side eyes (whether figurative or literal) bwjswnhshe anyway I have nothing against Austen, I definitely enjoy her, but from what I’ve read so far, I prefer the Brontës a lot more... I need adventure! Show me horror show me rot etc etc❤️ also I’m. A stupid sucker so the fact that the book was Charlotte Brontë’s attempt to write a plain looking lady protagonist and to make her praiseworthy and virtuous and worthy of spellbinding romance makes me... 💗💓💕

🌷Keturah and Lord Death — Martine Leavitt. I haven’t seen it officially stated anywhere but to me it’s p clear this book is a retelling of/highly inspired by Godfather Death (the Grimm tale) Very simple, predictable but effective plot, and the characters are just. So much fun. From my url you can probably tell I love stories in which women (or anyone but you know. Death and the Maiden is its own trope for a reason) outsmart/face off against death. If they also k*ss, when done right, I think that’s swell as well.

🌷A Thousand Splendid Suns — Khalid Hosseini. By far the heaviest book I will mention in this ask, and I don’t rec it willy nilly for that and a few other reasons. It’s a forever fave to me because I read it at the exact right time in my life, where I was like... noticing a ton of things irl and things at home were tumultuous, and when I saw very similar things unfold in this book while I was being silenced and made to feel crazy by the adults around me, it meant so much to me to see reality as I was experiencing it in real time reflected back at me via this novel. The context of the story is wildly different from my own life and the stakes the characters face are far higher, and it is if I remember right mostly a novel about the horrors of war, which isn’t something I pretend to have any firsthand experience with, but! It was legitimately cathartic to read when I read it, and it especially meant a lot to me at the time that the author was a grown man. Not to mention how my mother is not and never has been a reader, and somehow the one and only book I ever managed to get her to read was this. Hilariously she got mad at me for only (“only”) reading depressing things (there’s... a grain of truth to that but she doesn’t need to know! 🤫) but also... she was hooked I could tell! (I got all tmi explaining this one gag I’m so sorry)

🌷A Slight Trick of the Mind — Mitch Cullin. Retirement-era Holmes! Holmes as an old man! A sad old man who keeps bees!! It’s the novel the movie Mr. Holmes was based off of (haven’t seen it yet) and I was not expecting it to get me all sentimental like it did 🤨😪 but anyway it’s like. A prolonged character study and explores some of the most interesting (to me, anyway) parts of Holmes that are only lightly touched upon in canon, like his occasionally huge follies when navigating his few close relationships and how he copes with them afterwards, his fatigue at the random injustice of the world, how he’s often mistaken both by characters that surround him and people irl as a man without feelings, etc etc. like there’s no Dr. Watson or Mrs. Hudson in this book, and the people he interacts with are almost entirely original characters, but as I listened to the audiobook it barely occurred to me to miss Watson and Hudson (I know! 😦) and the author’s original characters interacted with Holmes so believably that I sometimes forgot they weren’t ever Doyle’s. Def recommend to any flexible Holmes fan that’s not a total stickler for canon (though you don’t actually have to know much about Holmes to read this book and enjoy it! 🐝)

🌷Sleepless — Sarah Vaughn + Leila del Luca. I began with the longest book, so let me end with the shortest. It’s a 2 volume long graphic novel series and that it’s so short is the only long standing, legitimate complaint I have of it! Gorgeous art, really effectively written romance, a dark skinned girl who gets to be the proactive, lively protagonist and stunning, pined after love interest at the same time, a cast of characters that is majority of color, the perfect %-age of drama and angst etc etc. if you can find it via your library or online or smth, you can knock it out in one sitting and leave the experience eternally altered in the funnest way 👁👄👁

Honorable mentions: The Botany of Desire — Michael Pollan, Troubling Love — Elena Ferrante, The Girl from the Garden — Parnaz Foroutan

#asks #book recs #wasn’t sure if you’d read Jane Eyre before so I was vague abt it qgzhshshs #long post

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fandomsonrequests · 4 years

Text

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 5]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 2.2k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: part 5 here we go! i’m sorry if its taking too long, school started so i dont have much time to write as often ;^; this is kind of unedited (im using grammarly sue me sujsk) so im sorry for any errors!

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @barcelona-sergei @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u

↞previous ♛ next↠

The Capitol was certainly different from the quaint town of Trelark.

The Capitol was… colorful to put it simply. Several people milled about the streets, bustling around and going about their daily lives. What the city folk wore was flashier and livelier than the dull brown or grey tones of the clothes the townsfolk wore. It sparked some sort of insecurity within you, making you clutch at the fabric of your pants as you look out the carriage window, seeing young women your age float through the streets in bright yellow skirts or green pleated dresses.

The streets were wider and tiled with smooth stones compared to the rocky ground that rocked the carriages up in the village of Trelark. The shops were bigger and the smell- the smell of the place was better for some reason. Delicious aromas of freshly baked bread or roasted pig wafted through the air instead of some goat or horse dung. It made your stomach rumble. You had eaten your packed lunch and shared it with your friends in the carriage that brought you over to the Capitol.

Speaking of which-

“Oh my gods, look at that dress,” Siyeon says as she presses herself against the carriage window and points to a dress in the display window of a seamstress’s shop. It had a sweetheart neckline with bell sleeves in an elegant shade of red, a transparent lace on the hem. Despite how simple it looked, you only wondered how expensive it was.

“I’d give anything to wear that.” She continues and releases a small whine as she slumps back into her seat. “I wish this Selection was for a princess instead of a knight.”

Raviv, who was beside you, laughed at the young woman across you. “Maybe next time. You never know.” He says as he picks at the loose threads of his shirt again. “You can just drop out y’know?”

“And miss out living in the palace and bring shame to my family at the same time? Uh, no thanks. I’ll do my best until I give out.”

You roll your eyes and huff in amusement at the two as they continue to banter. You loved the two a lot- you really did. Siyeon was like the sister you never had and Raviv had a special place in your heart. But you on the other hand were firm in your resolve and promised to yourself that you’d try to outdo them without having to step on them.

You saw more of the city as the carriages pulled through the cobbled streets of the Capitol. Sure it had its fair share of beauty but not every place was perfect. You caught a glimpse of some street kids, covered in dirt from head to toe, in the alleyways between houses and shops. Some of them would be begging for some alms while others just went about and played.

Suppose it couldn’t be helped- the world was cruel like that. But it still breaks your heart every time. You didn’t have much yourself but you were happy and had a roof over your head. Maybe life for the unfortunate was a lot tougher here in the Capitol.

Eventually, the carriages that came from the village of Trelark finally reached the lavish gates of the castle. There was a drawbridge, just like you imagined, but what you didn’t anticipate was the lavish gate that lay behind it.

As soon as the drawbridge lowered, a rather beautiful gate greeted your eyes. There were pillars made of stone and marble running down the sides while gold figurines of horses decorated the top. Black iron bars with gold-tipped ends that pointed up into the sky lined the space between each pillar.

But the gate was nothing compared to the palace itself.

The three of you all looked out the window, eyes gleaming and mouth agape as you gawked at the sight that beheld you. The palace was surprisingly similar to the ones described in the books- pearly and white, tall with several towers striking out from each side, buttresses that supported the building, and a large flag bearing the current family’s crews right on top of the centermost tower. The palace was huge. You couldn’t even see where the walls ended on each side.

“You know,” Raviv starts out softly. “If we were ever supposed to go through this place, I think we’d get lost.”

“No kidding,” Siyeon says, just as quiet like him. “I think I’d be starving and thirsty the minute I find my way back to the entrance.”

“Or one of the undead.” You added, and lightly kicked at Siyeon’s foot.

She then proceeded to flop down against the seat and rise with her hands in front of her, making growling noises as she imitated a zombie, lunging at the both of you. The trio laughs at the antics and pushes her back onto her seat when she pretends to take a bite of your arm.

“Oi, behave in there!” Called out the driver and patted the side of the carriage, effectively hushing you and your companions.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escapes you though. “Whoops.”

“Seonghwa there you are!” The Queen exclaims when he arrives, lapels of his clothes properly pinned and his crown sitting on top of his soft locks.

Seonghwa greets his parents who were sitting upon their thrones, awaiting the delegates that were to arrive at any moment. He kisses each of their cheeks and sat on the right side of his father’s throne, back straight and head high- just as he was taught since the age of five.

A few servants ran around the throne room, sweeping up the linoleum floors and dusting the marble columns. The velvet rug that led from the entrance up to the elevated floor that held the thrones were freshly pressed and practically spotless. The King wanted to leave a good first impression on his people.

“How many do you think there will be, father?” Seonghwa asks, looking over to the man.

The King only straightened up and looked ahead. “Many,” He replies without turning his head to his son. “They come from all parts of our kingdom. I think half of this room may be filled.”

The prince manages to hold back a sigh. Instead, he exhales through his nose and curls his fingers around the armrests of his seat. He thought it was a bit of an overkill to have all these people train just to protect him. Despite the assassin coming from a different kingdom, he thought that bringing other people from within their kingdom imposed a risk as well- you never know if there could be traitors out there.

Nevertheless, he just learned to trust his father’s decision. He knew that his father was wise and well-aware of his decisions. He just hoped this method wouldn’t backfire…

“They’re all here already your highness,” A servant announces as they enter the throne room. “There’s quite more than a handful.”

With a nod and a wave of his hand, the king tells the servant to allow the delegates to enter. The servant gives a low bow and exits the door only to return a few moments later with the young adults. Quietly, they filed into the throne room, wearing different garments that fit with the place they came from.

People from the field lands wore hard, boots dried with mud and loose-fitting clothes to help them move around. Folks near the dock wore almost similar clothing but had more loose-fitting shoes and or sandals. The delegates from the mountain had already shed off their coats as the weather in the Capitol was much warmer. And finally, the folks from the city were more well-dressed, with button-ups, well-tailored pants, and sturdy boots.

You glance around as you shuffle in with your companions near the edge of the group. You hadn’t anticipated this many people to attend. It made your stomach churn with nervousness- there was big competition here. But you weren’t taught to quit this early- you were going to push on until you give out.

Others slinked away or flinched whenever a city-dweller looked over at them. It was a bit hard not to- they just radiated some sort of energy. An aura of power to be exact.

Seonghwa scans the faces of the delegates. They were all so different- in height, background, wear, and everything else. Many looked like they were reluctant to be there but many also had this look of determination in their eyes.

There was one gaze that caught his in particular. It belonged to a woman, maybe his age, standing near the back. He could tell from her garments, specifically the coat that hung over her arm, that she lived in one of the mountain villages.

Her lips were pursed together as she observed the palace around her. There were wonder and awe in them- but as soon as her gaze landed on him and his family, they steeled into something harder, one that read that it would take more than would think to take her down.

Seonghwa is pulled out of his thoughts by his father’s voice welcoming all the participants to the palace.

“Welcome to the Capitol,” The King booms, a warm smile on his face and his arms outstretched. “I’ll keep this brief, but I’d like to thank you for coming all this way. It means a lot to me, my wife, and of course- my son.”

All eyes shift over to the prince. It wasn’t the first time many sets of eyes were trained onto him but he felt nervous this particular time. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the circumstances were different, that they weren’t looking up at him while he stood beside his father during speeches or city celebrations or whenever he had to deliver the occasional speech. Yeah, that must be it.

The young man folded an arm over his torso and bowed a perfect ninety-degree angle. It was a silent gesture of his gratefulness for their efforts, eyes glistening as if all the stars were placed into them.

The King looked to his side and gave a nod. Two men came out from behind a pillar and stood at the foot of the elevated platform that held the thrones.

The first was a tall and burly man. A long white but faded scar ran from the top of his head and across his brow, just catching the edges of his eyelids. Because of the long healed injury- part of his injured eye had a milky-blue color to it, showing that he was partially blind. HIs muscled under his pressed dress suit flexed as he gave a bow and straightened up. He was the literal embodiment of tall, dark, and strong. Despite this though, he radiated a warm and inviting energy- especially with that soft smile of his.

The second was the man most people hated. It was the nobleman that went to the town of Trelark. He wore less warm clothing but his stupid purple feather plume hat remained. His silver beard seemed extra curled today and a shit-eating smirk was plastered across his lips.

The majority of the folk that came from the mountain villages had a sour look on their face when they saw the nobleman. They tried to mask it though to avoid any offense that it could bring to the king.

“This is Byron,” The King introduces the first man. “He shall be training all of you till one of you manages to succeed as the prince’s protector. And this is Duke Hae-seong, one of my royal advisers and a Duke of the kingdom. He shall help manage you and educate you around the protocols of the palace and the kingdom.”

“Yes, that’s right.” The Queen says softly, voice warm and gentle. “It is important not to only train the body but the mind as well. The prince’s protector needs to be knowledgeable of the kingdom’s laws and what his or her rights are as a protector.”

It was a very wise move on the royal family’s part and it made sense. They didn’t want the protector to overstep any boundaries, whether intentional or not or have any abuse in power on their part.

Many delegates didn’t seem pleased to learn that Hae-seong would be tutoring them though. He was impatient and very brash- he clearly was displeased with the way the king and queen took commoners into the palace without a single thought of doubt; he was just good at hiding it.

“Ladies, please follow Mina to your quarters. Gentlemen, Sir Byron will be the one to take you to yours. I hope you don’t mind sharing with others.” The King says and gestures to the crowd gathered in front of them. “And to show our gratitude, we shall be throwing you a feast tonight to commemorate your arrival.”

This seemed to brighten up the spirits of the young delegates. Energy fills them as the adrenaline of excitement rushes through their bodies. A few of them now their heads gratefully to the royal couple while the rest showed their appreciation through bright smiles.

“I thank you all once again for going through all this trouble. Now, freshen up. You’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

The group bows down to the family before them and separate into two groups to head over to their bunkers to rest and recuperate. You look back at the royal family again, seeing them step down from the throne and head to wherever they needed to be in this gigantic castle.

This was it. The game was on- and you were determined to win it.

#ateez #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #royal au #royalty au #royal ateez #royalty ateez #prince park seonghwa #prince seonghwa #prince!seonghwa #fantasy au #fantasy ateez #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #regiis #fandomsonrequests

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chick-from-nz · 3 years

Text

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 9)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually)

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk, spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC. awkwardly written moments. Sexual tension. some NSFW content. Mentions of death, child endangerment, TW: car crash.

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so this chapter went a little darkish at the start and then very different at the end. not gonna lie a little bit giddy and proud of this chapter, hope you all enjoy, sorry for the wait between the chapters. would also love to hear any predictions about where the fic may go.

WORD COUNT: 5.5K

CHAPTER: 9 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

** **

~15 years ago~

“Ashlyn honey, come on, we don’t want to be late ” her mother, Teressa, yelled out from the bottom of the stairs, laughing softly to herself when she heard the mad rush of footsteps on the wooden floors before seeing her eight year old daughter running towards her with all her might, only to halt army style and stare up at her with wide eyes. There was not a single soul that could deny the resemblance between the two of them, they shared the striking green eyes and red-brown hair of the Sayer family, both had a boisterous take no shit attitude and the same little quirks and tells when they were upset. Which Teressa could tell was the case with her daughter right this minute. She reached down and pulled her young daughter into her embrace, balancing her on her hip as she made haste towards their car, “what's wrong baby? What’s got you thinking, hmm?”

Ash looked up at her mum, teary eyed and mumbled, “I don’t want daddy to get mad at me, I didn’t mean to hit that boy, he just said some mean things about daddy and I got really angry”. Little sniffles were becoming more and more prevalent as she continued talking, try as she might the little girl couldn’t fathom why people would speak bad about her family, they were all so nice!. She clumsily climbed down from her mum's arms and hopped up into her car seat, clipping her belt before pulling on it dramatically to prove that she was actually clipped in. Ash then let out a small gleeful laugh when her mum bopped her on the nose before walking around the car to get into the driver's seat to start on their journey to the principal's office to find out the punishment for the young girls justified behaviour.

The journey to the school would take longer than necessary, unexpected road closures with no concrete explanations from the officers monitoring the road blocks had forced Teressa to take the back roads and add an extra forty minutes to their already long commute for a Saturday morning. Travelling along generally unused and quiet roads was somewhat of an unusual experience for Ash, having been used to seeing cars passing by every other minute and looking at houses rather than vast open fields. As they passed round a corner, entering a tree lined road with dense forest on either side of them, an unsettling feeling overcame the young mother, there was a strange darkness that clung to the air, setting off alarm bells within. She remained calm as possible as to not alert Ashlynn that something was wrong, as the young girl was far too perceptive for her age, a trait that she had inherited from her fathers side of the family. She glanced back at her daughter, noticing that she was rather quiet, but let out a small sigh of relief when she noted that she had dozed off, head slumped against the panel of the door and her hair covering her face, snoring away softly to herself. It was in this brief moment of distraction that Teressa failed to notice the truck approaching rapidly from behind, when she did she increased her speed well beyond the speed limit, keeping an eye on a sleeping Ash to make sure she didn’t wake up and begin to start asking questions like the curious little thing always did.

As her speed increased the blacked out vehicle behind them only got faster until it was a mere meter behind their car, seeing no other option she pushed the car to its limits, approaching the upcoming intersection at speeds that should terrify her beyond means, but in this moment she was focusing on only one thing, protecting her innocent daughter in the back seat. As she passed through the intersection a scream forced its way from her throat, just through the intersection sat a parked truck blocking the road. Teressa knew she wouldn’t be able to stop in time so she swerved sharply to the right, hearing the screaming of the tires as they went from smooth asphalt to the gravely uneven surface that bordered the edge of the road. The steering of the car locked up, Teressa tried with all her might to get it moving again but was forced to endure the inevitable pain from the collision that was about to happen, with what may be her final words to her daughter she turned to look at Ash, tears filling her eyes when she took in the terrified expression on the young girls’ face, and whispered “I love you baby girl”

When Ash woke up she was sprawled on the grass a few feet from the car, rain was pouring down putting a darker spin on the event occurring. There were people standing around her, albeit a few feet away and semi-huddled together, and something warm was running into her left eye. Reaching up and feeling a thick, sticky substance she pulled her hand down to get a better look, a terrified scream leaving her small body when she noticed her hand washed red with blood. Her scream drew the attention of the people huddled together but they dismissed her without some much as a disgruntled look, they weren’t there for her. Ash glanced around, frightened and searching for her mum, who she found in a heap a meter or so to the left of her. With great difficulty she managed to crawl over to her mum, gathering her head and shaking her when she wouldn’t wake up.

“Mummy please! I’m sorry, no mummy please! Please wake up mummy, I need you” Tears poured from the eyes of the young bruised girl, mixing in with the blood as she desperately tried to wake her mum up. Her little body was exhausted from the effort, shivering from the cold seeping into her bones from the rain, and the toll of the crash began to take effect, she was becoming drowsy, a sure sign of a concussion. Ash felt a small wave of relief was over her when the eyes of her mothers’ met her own, the tears never halted, dripping off her face and landing on the face of her mother, mixing in with the blood that was covering the once beautiful face of her mum, now marred by sliced and bruised flesh. Her mum pulled her head towards herself, pressing a short but meaningful kiss to her forehead before her body began to go limp. “Ashy, darling, hold Mumma close for a little while” the broken voice of her mother rang clear in her ears.

Ash pulled her mums’ head as close to her little chest as possible, crying out and trying with all her might to keep her mum with her till help could arrive. With one last shuddering breath her mother passed, she was gone, no matter how tightly Ash held her. Looking down and seeing the closed eyes of her mother, she panicked, screaming out for the group of people to try and get their attention or at least their help. “Please help me, my mummy won’t wake up! I need my mummy, please help me!”

One of the men started towards her, dressed in clothes very similar to that of her father, before coming to a stop before her. He looked over the child thoughtfully, knowing the orders he was given deemed only that the woman be killed and the girl to be delivered to the hospital in a recoverable state, sighing to himself he reached down and hoisted the girl up and made haste towards one of the trucks.

“Put me down! I want my mummy. Don't take me away from her! MUMMY!!!!” the girl cried and screamed and beat at the man that was carrying her. She didn't understand. Why was the man taking her away from the one good thing in her life. Ash watched as the other men made their way towards her mum, before picking her up and beginning to chain her to the tree. One of the men pulled out a large knife which had the young girl screaming at the top of her lungs, “Leave my mummy alone! Just leave her alone you bully! Dont touch her!” the men just laughed at her, mocking her pitiful cries. She was unceremoniously thrown into the backseat of one of the vehicles, effectively cutting off her view of the men outside.

The young man climbed into the driver's seat, this was his first assignment within the force and he was disgusted by the behaviour of the team. His gaze travelled out the side window just in time to watch the team commander behead the young woman they had just killed, his stomach turned even further when the men began taking turns carving something into the body as they chained her up to the tree and left her there for someone to find. With the signal from his commander he started the car and made haste towards the nearest hospital to get the young, tortured girl seen too as fast as possible, her eyes were drooping and she was beyond pale which scared him. He felt for the young girl, having to go through so much at a young age because of the wrongdoings of her father.

~present~

Ash would never forget the sounds of the crash, the shattering of the glass or the painful scream that left her mothers’ lips the moment before both their worlds went dark that day. The final words of her mother were painfully etched into her memory, a grim reminder of that fateful day, and in tribute to her fallen parent the words “A little weakness goes a long way” were tattooed above her heart, words she stuck to as much as possible.

She sucked in a deep breath of air in an attempt to re-center herself with her surroundings and shake off the ghostly shivers of her broken past. She rubbed her hand across her face, wiping away the tears before scoffing out a vacant laugh. “Every damn year, without fail, I get these... these dreams about it ya know?. It’s like I can’t escape my past. I’m constantly thinking ‘what could I have done better, why couldn’t I have been a more grounded child’. If I had just controlled my anger my mum might still be here today”

The broken sob that left the young soldier had the Colonels’ heart clenching in his chest and his hands tightening on the steering wheel, almost uncomfortably so. He knew all too well the effects blaming oneself had on the mind. There were many things he took the blame for or blamed himself for as an inexperienced officer in his younger days, he would not allow the girl beside him to fall into that trap any longer given there was likely a deeply buried explanation to the event, one he would commit to finding. While keeping a close eye on the road ahead he reached over to wrap Ash’s hand tightly beneath one of his own effectively hoping to silence her racing thoughts and give her something more tangible to focus on. She was one of his own now, a team member that needed to be looked after as thoroughly as possible, but also someone that, dare he say it, was slowly becoming more than that.

Ash’s head shot up in surprise when she felt the large warm hand grasp her own, it brought a wave of unexpected comfort to her being, warming her to her core. Turning her attention from the hand over her own to the face of the man beside her she gulped. His shoulders were drawn up tight, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his jaw was clenched to the point she could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding. His brow has drawn now and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, he was clearly displeased, no, angered by her past she just confessed, the anger that had settled in his deep brown eyes had a chill racing down her spine, it was a look of cold calculation, one she was sure many of has enemies had seen moments before their death. Gathering a small amount of courage she covered his hand with her other and began rubbing small unconscious circles into the side of his thumb, letting a small relieved breath when she saw some of the tension leave his body.

A short time had passed and they had reached the hospital; the tension had now left Ash’s body, with the weight of telling Carrillo about some of her destructive past now off her shoulders she felt like the awkwardness of the previous week had been all but forgotten. Her now unwavering trust in the man beside her somewhat frightened her, coupled in with the ever growing feelings she knew she was in far too deep. There was a silent agreement between the two of them that Ash would go to the medics while Carrillo would head to the archives to try and find files that would be useful to the team, they would reconvene at the car within the next two hours.

Upon entering the hospital and being directed to the outpatient clinic Ash was greeted by a very familiar face, “Captain Lisa Ortiz, my god it has been too long”. The smile that graced her face was pure and genuine, seeing a long lost family friend after so long was a relief and a huge shock to the system, but a good one at that. Ash wasn’t even aware that the Captain had returned from deployment, the last time she’d seen the woman was at her graduation parade when Ash had not long turned eighteen. She had grown up down the road from the amazing woman and as it turned out the Captain was now dating her favourite Lieutenant, Lt. Henry O’Connor.

“My god, little Ashy is that you, come over here girl” Captain Ortiz beckoned her over before wrapping her in a bear hug, she used to babysit the kid when she was a young tot, and furthermore after her mother had passed. Ash’s father, more often than not, would drop her on the Ortiz family doorstep and disappear for weeks on end, she had all but raised this girl and was proud that she had followed her dreams and joined the force. “Right, you, we have some catching up to do, head down to the third room on the right and I’ll be there after I’ve found your files” she had pointed down the corridor signaling the direction she wanted the 2nd Lieutenant to go, a pleased smile gracing her face when she watched the young thing wander off with a new found bounce in her step.

Ash was startled from her thoughts when the Captain entered the room before plonking herself down rather ungracefully into the chair beside her. “I read the report Greys, what the fuck! Have they found who did that to you? That's some messed up shit girl, glad you’re ok though kiddo” She reached over and ruffled Ash’s hair not giving her a moment to answer the questions thrown at her before standing up to grab some gloves and some tools to begin removing the younger officers’ stitches. “Right up on the bed, shirt off, I’m sure by now you’ll be wanting those stitches out”

Ash only nodded, shaking her head with a brief laugh before pulling her shirt over her head and climbing onto the bed like she was asked, she was far to content to do as she was told given how much she trusted the woman before her, she’d admired her since she was a small child and inspired to be like her even now. Lisa began carefully removing the stitches from her side, poking and prodding here and there to make sure she was most definitely healed like she should be, when one particularly hard poke had Ash wincing, she knew the Captain had found the slightly marred skin from where she had pulled those stitches.

“So...” the Captain began, “I heard a dit Greys. About you, a certain LT. Colonel and then a certain international guest. Care to share?”.

The shiteating grin that was currently taking up Lisa’s face told Ash all she needed to know. The Captain already knew everything about the whole ‘Sinclair situation’ so there really wasn’t much to tell there, but from what she remembered about the slightly older woman, she always got the answers she wanted, Ash really couldn’t hide anything from her if she tried. “Damn it Lisa, just spit it out, what do you wanna know” she said with a jeering tone, she knew forgoing rank with the Captain wouldn’t drop her in the shit, the benefits of knowing someone since you were five years old. It was funny watching Lisa try and find the right words to say, the furrowing of her brow and the opening and closing of her mouth like a fish out of water nearly had Ash in tears, it was quite the sight.

“From what I’ve heard the LT. Colonel was a bit of an asshole to you, kid. But I also remember a certain eighteen year old having it bad for him when she attended my graduation parade. I wonder who that could be...” Lisa trailed off with a chuckle. She was sure that by now Ash had all but forgotten about her nagging antics involving the man she no doubt despised nowadays, but it was still a moment of great amusement for the Captain. “Little eighteen year old you just wouldn’t shut up about him. Sinclair this, Sinclair that, honestly kid I'm surprised you never tried to jump that dick near the end of training” Ortiz paused for a moment, considering something before having a light bulb moment, “Unless it's because of a certain Columbian hunk I’ve heard so much about from some of the medics in your intake...” She knew she’d hit the jackpot when Ash blushed beet-red from her hairline to her neck. “Awww, does little Ashy have a crush on the big bad Colonel?”

Ash didn’t know what to say, she had honestly forgotten about how she had crushed on the LT. Colonel before she really even knew him, embarrassingly enough her reactions towards him kind of made sense now. She was going to attempt to deny her ever mounting crush on the Colonel she now lived and worked with but given the reaction Lisa had given, she knew she’d been caught out. “Even after all these years you’re still a gossiping teen” Ash choked out with a laugh, shaking her head with a big smile on her face, “And pffft no, I do not have a crush on anyone. Thank you very much”. Even to her own ears the lie was so evident in her voice, there was definitely no denying she did have a crush on the aforementioned man, but that was despite the point.

“OH yeah, for sure. Definitely. You sound so sure about that Greys. Come on now, between friends, what's it like living with that god of a man? I’ve only seen some pictures but holy damn girl, if you don’t ride that dick that I’m going to get you sent to the block, because denying that man that would be a crime!” The pure childlike glee that passed through the Captains body at witnessing the utter shock of her words became clear to Ash and had her curling over in laughter. Never in her life has she seen someone look so offended yet also curious at the idea.

“Hey put it this way, if that man is cuffing me. I’ll happily go right to horny jail” Ash huffed out between laughs, god it was good to be around someone who thought like her and wasn’t afraid of talking shit at work, it was gold. It felt good to genuinely laugh with someone she knew and cherished, it had been far too long.

“Anyway Greys, better get you all wrapped up and sent on your way back to your mans before he gets grumpy and you get told off. Although secretly I’m sure you’d just love that” She walked over to the desk and gathered up some papers that she needed Ash to give to her new Commanding Officer before writing out some prescriptions for more painkillers and nausea meds that she knew would come in handy in the future. “I need you to give these papers to the Colonel for me” she pointed to the stack tucked into an envelope, “And these ones are for you little lady. Please do keep me posted about that handsome hunk you live with. And don’t let Henry annoy you too much when he gets to the house, I’m sure you’ll have your hands full though. Good luck Greys!” and with one final tight hug she let the young officer go. Watching her plod down the hallway with a dopey smile on her face. Before she could forget she flicked her partner a text:

To: Future Hubbster

~ baby it seems you’ll have the perfect opportunity to have some fun in your new posting. Our little Ashy-bear has a crush on the Colonel, you HAVE to get them together somehow, we need our girl to be happy.

It was barely a minute later that her phone chimed, reading the message she had to shake her head with a laugh.

From: Future Hubbster

~ God I love you. Permission to make a certain Colonel jealous by any means necessary?

She quickly typed out a reply before hitting send and making her way back to the nurses desk to grab the papers for her next patient. She was sure that whatever her partner would do that it would for sure stir up some shit in the team, one of the many reasons she loved that troublemaker.

To: Future Hubbster

~permission granted, boy scout. Just don’t weird out our little Ashy or get kicked off the team. See you tonight baby xx

----------

From that day onwards the energy in the house was no longer awkward. Carrillo and Ash had fallen back into a rhythm of eating meals together and just genuinely enjoying each other's company in the moments when they could relax. Every Night at around twenty hundred hours they’d both find their way into the living room, generally Ash with a book and Carrillo with some kind of file that could potentially be helpful for their missions, reading quietly in comfortable silence had brought a sense of peace to the both of them. With the events from earlier in the week pushed to the side, but definitely not forgotten by either of them, they were back to being a well gelled team, a small team nonetheless but it worked well for them.

Ash had not so subtly started doting on the man. She’d bring him coffee’s to the office during the day because he barely left the room when he got stuck in a rut reading paper after paper, her heart always warmed that extra little bit when he’d happily accept the cup and give her a small grateful smile, she always left the room with a blush on her cheeks and an added skip in her step. Sunday rolled round and Carrillo had seemingly disappeared from the house, and with him nowhere to be found Ash took it upon herself to finally go for a run.

The property definitely seemed larger now she was running around the outside of it, she was becoming exhausted much faster than she would have liked and her side was rather sore from the effort. It was on her third lap of the property, the lap she had named ‘struggle street’ that she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Gapping it towards the house in an attempt to act like she hadn’t just been breaking the rules she made it just in time, rushing round her room and heading to the shower as fast as possible. The both of them had obviously learnt one thing from their moment in the living room nearly a week ago, always take your clothes into the bathroom and come out fully dressed, definitely a less awkward situation. Upon leaving the bathroom, fully clothed, she noticed a fresh set of groceries on the bench, it now made sense as to where the Colonel had disappeared to.

Ash started out putting everything away neatly and into the designated spots, putting her favourite foods into easy to reach spots because while she was average height, some of the cupboards were just that little bit too tall for her to reach up into. Once everything was put away she beelined for the couch and flicked on a random movie on tv, not intending to do much more than nap due to being beyond tired from her run, the dull ache of her muscles was a welcome feeling. Ash skipped dinner that night, still feeling far too tired from her exercise and instead chose to retire to bed early, but not before delivering a fresh cup of coffee to a very busy Carrillo.

Ash was starving when she woke up the next morning, stomach was growling and her body ached more than it had in a very long while, the good kind of overworked ache. Climbing rather ungracefully from her bed and into the kitchen, forgetting to put shorts on under the t-shirt she wore while in a tired state. Growing bored while waiting for the pot of coffee to finish she dug into the cupboard to grab a bowl and spoon in preparation for breakfast, wandering over to the fridge to get the milk before returning to her previous place, just in time for the coffee to be ready. Pouring the cup and taking a quick sip she felt herself begin to wake up, she definitely functioned better after the first cup of coffee in the morning, placing the cup down she reached up to the cupboard she usually kept her cereal in to make herself a bowl, only to find it wasn’t where she had put it yesterday upon unpacking the groceries. Huffing to herself in frustration she began checking the other cupboards, each one she opened came up empty, the frustration growing more and more when all the ones in her line of sight and reach didn’t contain her beloved Creamy Oats. It was then that it occurred to her there was one cupboard left to check, the highest up one that Carrillo usually kept any of his favourite stuff in, reaching up on tippy toes and flicking one of the doors open and she struck gold. From her placement she could see the logo of her cereal staring back at her, now she just had to reach it. Somehow.

Caught up in trying to reach her cereal she failed to notice the Colonel leaning against his bedroom door watching silently from afar. He’d woken to the sound of the kitchen being ransacked only to laugh at what he was seeing. His plan it seemed, had worked, from his vantage point he was granted with quite the sight, long muscled legs, and a well toned ass were revealed as Ash tried to stretch as much as she could onto her tiptoes to reach the box of cereal he had deliberately placed at the back of ‘his’ cupboard. Smirking away to himself he slowly padded over to the kitchen, taking special care to dare not make a sound to alert her of his presence.

Ash jumped when she felt a hand land softly on her side, her body tensed before relaxing all too quickly when she felt the penetrating heat of the man behind her. He reached up over her head, muscles bunching and pressed tightly against her effectively caging her in, grasped the box of cereal she was desperately trying to reach and reached down and placed it in front of her. She expected him to move away instantly but instead he stood there trapping her between the hard wood of the bench and the increasingly harder wood poking her in the lower back. One arm was still gripping her side, the other wrapped around her front with his hand played out on the bench, desperately close to where she needed it most.

Testing the resolve of the officer behind her might not have been her brightest idea but she craved any kind of interaction or touch she could gain from this man. Ash pushed back on him, letting out a small pliant sound of need when she felt him twitch against the curve of her ass, the resulting groan she received from him had her buckling at the knees. His head moved down, mouth hovering against the shell of her ear, she could feel the harsh uneven breaths and when she ground down on him again, harder this time, she was rewarded with yet another deep moan, one that sent a delighted shiver down her spine. She made a move to repeat the action but the hand on her side clamped down impossibly tight, efficiently halting her movements, the last thing she expected was for him to speak.

“Do that again, and you’ll find out how little control I really have” His voice was a mere whisper but it had the desired effect.

Ash froze, processing the words. The sleepy lust filled drawl sent a punch of arousal straight to her core and a moan escaping her throat. She was almost tempted to see how far she could push him, but settled for subtly maneuvering herself to grab for her coffee and bring it closer, her throat was impossibly dry now and he was not helping the situation.

The subtle movement brushed so lightly against him that in any other state it may have been imperceptible but in this highly aroused state it made him want to return the favour. He leaned down slowly, gauging her reaction, before gently and fleetingly brushing his lips behind her ear, smirking softly against her skin when she tilted her head slightly to accommodate him, mouth agape. Never one to turn down an advantage he slowly moved his right hand towards her coffee cup, distracting her further by trailing his lips along the edge of her jaw towards her own lips. He continued his journey towards her lips, stopping only when his hand found purchase on the hot cup of coffee before her, before he retraced his previous path, this time stopping every few centimeters to mouth at underside of her jaw, when he reached his intended target he sealed the deal. He nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear, sucking lightly to leave the barest of marks but one the both of them would know was there, he blew softly on the skin, lips once again pulling into a smirk when she threw her head back against his bare shoulder. He leant his head against the side of her own, gently nuzzling against her before he growled out lowly, “Thanks for the Coffee Ash” and then as if he wasn’t affected by the current situation, he stepped back, groaning at the loss of pressure against his painfully hard cock.

To say Ash was an undignified mess wouldn’t be far from the truth, but even in her current state of dizzying arousal she wouldn’t let him have the last word. She spun on her heel, briefly stunned while watching the muscles on his back bunch and twist as he made his way back to his room, before she remembered her mission. “Sir..” she tempted in a voice dripping with sin, smirking proudly when she saw his shoulders tense and his head shoot up in a hurry, obviously not expecting her to speak back, “When you start something next time, I expect you to finish it” and with those as her final words she turned around, leaning heavily against the bench for support, barely resisting the urge to get herself off where she stood, Colonel be damned.

Carrillo only just had his door closed and the coffee cup discard before he was desperately pulling himself from his shorts. In less than a dozen strokes and with a barely concealed yell he had spilled into his own hand, moving across the floor he reached down to pick up a discarded t-shirt to clean up his mess. Sitting down on his bed to catch his breath he had to laugh at the situation, he had underestimated the young woman, severely so, and now he’d crossed a line he never had before. He was in deep, far too deep to continue to deny his true feelings for the junior officer. He flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling before growling out a string of curse words in his native tongue. That girl really knew how to get under his skin.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio Carrillo x oc #paper scissors rank #chapter 9 #narcos fanfic

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wreckofawriter · 5 years

Text

Never Forget

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 3,406

Warnings: None? Swearing?

Request: hello~ thank you so much for responding to my request, its amazing and i dont mind at att that u responded a little later. so, if u dont mind too, could you pretty please do a sirius x reader when sirius escapes from Azkaban and when Remus come to see him brings y/n with him (they were fiances) and he wanted to hug her or somethin’ she looks werid at him and ask “ dude, i know you from somewhere? “ and sirius is shock that she forget him after all and y/n starts laughing and hugs him so tight and tells him how much he missed him and that she could never forget him. bassicaly a lot of fluff? thank you 🥺❤️

A/n: Sorry this took so long to come out! I hope you like it!

You had never considered yourself a vengeful person. In fact you found yourself quite the opposite. You had always been kind, kind to those who were kind to you and kind to those who weren’t. You had never insulted someone back or got someone in trouble on purpose, you had helped with some pranks, but nothing too harsh, you never, ever helped pull one on Snape, no matter how many names he called you or dirty tricks he pulled. You knew he was only doing because of your boyfriend anyway.

Yes you the sweetheart of hogwarts was dating the Sirius Black. You weren't quite sure how it happened, it was like you were suddenly submerged in a pool of minty breath, leather jackets and musky cologne. And you loved it. By age 14 you were madly in love with him, but unlike every other girl in hogwarts Sirius actually began to return your feelings. Not to say he admitted it right away, hell it took Sirius two years of denial and eleven months of fear before he finally asked you out. You had accepted, but not without hesitation, he had after all been rumored to have slept with half the school.

Surprisingly to everyone, even the gryffindor's best friends, Sirius had stayed completely and utterly loyal. He barely even looked at other girls, becoming oblivious to the flirtatious attempts they threw at him.

Sirius became the best boyfriend you could ask for. He did everything for you. He would buy you gifts that were far too expensive, showering you affection, help you with anything and everything, for the first time in his life he truly felt love and he wouldn't have given it away for anything, let alone risk it with his own mistakes.

It was no surprise to anyone when you moved in together after Hogwarts, your parents complained about it being too early but you managed to keep them docile. You also joined the Order of the Phoenix and was the maid of honor at James and Lily's wedding. You even received a ring of your own from a blushing nervous wreck of Sirius, a ring which you happily accepted.

Your seemingly perfect life was shattered only a month before your wedding.

You remembered the day clearer than you remembered most. You had been cooking, your y/h/c hair was put up in a disgusting excuse for a bun, the short blue skirt you were wearing paired with an oversized david bowie t-shirt that wasn't yours was covered by an already stained white apron that read ‘kiss the chef’ in red looping letters. The room had been full of steam, the scent of curry and cumin thick in your nose. You had a bad habit of eating dinner late at night, something developed because of the wacky schedule your job held. You had been waiting for Sirius to come back.

You jumped a bit at the sound of your door slamming open. Harsh footsteps echoed through the hall, your eyes widened slightly.

"Siri? Are you a-" your sentence dropped to the floor when he stumbled into your view. His hair was a tangled mess, his creamy skin broken in a harsh cut on his left cheek. His lips were parted slightly, he was breathing heavily. But the thing that struck you most were his eyes. The stormy grey was rimmed with red, irises tinted pink, a supernatural gloss making them shine unnaturally. The looked broken. They hold an impossibly heavy weight, like the world had suddenly crashed upon them.

"James is dead." He croaked, his voice raged and breaking.

You dropped the pan that you were holding, its contents scattering the ground. "W-what?"

"Lily too." Silver drops shimmered lightly down his face.

You felt tears sting your eyes, your vision blurring, "What about-" your voice fell short in a broken cry.

"He's alive, but I don't know what's going to happen." He sobbed rushing towards you and collapsing into your arms.

"We'll get him, right?" You spoke so softly and delicately, Sirius found the need to stop his breathing to keep you from shattering.

"Y/n, they were sold out." He clutched you desperately shaking.

"What?" Your brain simply couldn't process all this information.

"They think I did it. Everyone thinks I told him where they were." His voice was so raw with fear it was unrecognizable.

You just stood there stunned tears clinging to the inside of your eyelids as you felt your heart smash to pieces.

"They think I did it, but I didn't." He sobbed, "Peter did, I tried to fight him b-b-but now everyone thinks I killed him too, and he-he's alive and they are coming to get me." Tears began to wet your shoulder.

You were too stunned to speak. The feeling of absolute terror and rage swept you.

"They're gonna take me to Azkaban y/n/n." He looked up at you and your heart shattered. He was broken, utterly and bitterly broken.

You felt your already shattered heart clench in protest, begging you to look away from this train wreck of a man before it was hurt anymore. You let out a choked sigh. Before grabbing Sirius neck and slamming your lips roughly on to yours.

His lips were chapped and salty, tasting of blood and tears. You felt his shaking hands wrap around your waist as his tongue slipped past your lips.

You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, lungs burning dully. You felt your heart stop when you looked at him. Even completely destroyed in front of you it was impossible to ignore his beauty. His cheeks dusted a light pin, eyes blotchy and red, making the grey storms that lurked there brighten with a melancholy light. He remind you of autumn leaves, he was so pretty just before he fell. You pulled him back into your secure embrace, your heart thumping loudly. You led your hands up his back resting them on his shoulders and tugging him towards you. You felt him nuzzle into your neck, inhaling sharply, attempting to engrave the scent of your shampoo in his head. His hands slid to your lower back, resting on the helm of your skirt as he shook violently.

“I love you.” You whispered through a thick wave of silent tears. You didn't let your voice break, too many things in that room had already been broken. “I love you so much, and everything is going to be okay. Its gonna be okay.”

And that's how you stayed, standing in the middle of a steamy kitchen, in the smell of curry and cumin, sauce burning in a saucepan on the stove, half sauteed vegetables littered around you like strange confetti. You repeated the last four words you spoke over and over again until you weren't sure who you were trying to convince. You stood like that when you heard loud rumbling footsteps come crashing to your door. You stayed like that as the chant of your impending doom continued up the stairs. The door bursting open. Four Arours came into the small room.

“Ma’m step away from him.” Spoke one of them.

“Sirius Orin Black you are under the arrest for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.” A young woman said.

You could no longer hide your tears as you shook with wails, tugging him closer to you. “I love you y/n.” He spoke quietly into your ear. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” You cried, “I love you too.”

Just as you finished your sentence you were ripped from his grasp. You struggled, delivering a harsh kick to the crotch of the man who held you. He fell to the ground with a groan as you scrambled back towards Sirius. Your wrist was snatched by a different Arour when you just millimeters from him. You spun towards the ground at the sudden gasp and landed with a harsh thump, as soft whimper escaping your throat.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Sirius hollard Struggling with the two men holding him as he glared at the women who had dragged you to the ground, were she now also lay. One of the men raised his wand whispering ‘crusio’ Sirius let out a painful scream as he began to write in their grip,

Your vision went red. You landed your foot harshly onto the women Aruors face with a crunch. She shrieked as you darted towards the man holding his wand with a fiery rage. When you reached him you slammed your fist into his face with such force you felt your nails price the skin of your palm. He stumbled backward hand instinctively flying to his jaw, dropping his wand. You snatched the wand from the air and aimed it at second man prepared to unleash hell but before you could utter a spell. You heard a loud yell.

“Stupify!”

You flew across the room; flying straight in to your china cabinet. You felt your head thunk loudly on something as glass shattered around you. Your back felt like a pincushion, the needles of glass lodged into it. Your vision danced as you felt blood seep down your cheek.

“You fuckers!” The voice sounded so distant, like it was deep underwater, “She didn't do anything, you worthless sacks of shit!”

“Siri?” you quietly mumbled quietly and suddenly your vision went black.

You had awoken in a hospital, eyes fluttering open to fluorescent lights. The strong smell of medication and sickness made you want to gag. Suddenly the moments before your world fell, came rushing back to you in a sick wave. You sat up quickly gasping as you felt a searing pain in your lower back.

“Be careful, wouldn't want you to rip out those stitches.”

“Sirius?’ You asked excitedly. But soon your vision straightened and your eyes locked with a pair of hazel.

“Hey y/n/n.” Remus sighed, his voice strained. He looked terrible, his eyes bloodshot. Dark circles making his face appear sunken. The bright scars on his face blending with his pale complexion.

“Remus where's Sirius?” you asked. Maybe it was all a dream.

Remus felt tears climb slowly up to his eyes, he gasped for air as if he was being strangled, “None of us saw it coming y/n. I didn't expect you to.”

You let out a throttle whimper, “He didn't do it Re. I know he didn't. He would never hurt Peter orJames or Lily or Harry.” You gasped. “Harry?”

“You’re getting him,” Remus spoke attempting a smile that turned to a grimace.

“Where is he now?” You could feel tears seeping down your right cheek but, but not your left.

“Your house with your parents.” Remus respond as he watched you slowly raise your hand to the bandage just below your lf eye, now damp with salt. “From the china cabinet, your lucky you didn't lose your eye.”

“Who were those Arours. I’m going to get them fired.” You growled lowly.

“I don’t know y/n but-”

“They used an unforgivable curse on Sirius." You explained urgently to the man sitting beside you.

Remus cringed as you spoke his name. “Y/n. He was being arrested for murder, they can use whatever force necessary.”

“But it wasn’t necessary!” you cried out suddenly.

“Y/n/n, I don’t really think that’s gonna hold up in court. I mean it would be the word of four respectable Aurors, three of which you banged up pretty bad apparently, verses the confused and delirious fiance of a murderer.” Remus explained slowly as if he were talking to a child.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as a dull ache that reminded you slightly of hunger, lodged into your heart. “Stop calling him that.” Your voice was dark and dangerous, for a split second, Remus was completely and utterly terrified of you.

“Y/n you’re going to have to come to terms with it eventually.” He sighed, his voice holding the disappointment of a mother scolding her child.

“He didn’t do it, Remus!” You shouted, “How can you possibly believe that-that Sirius would do anything to ever hurt James, hurt Lily, hut Harry? Do you really think that he would do that. Do you truly think that low of him?”

Each word you spoke was like a knife thrusting into his heart, “Y/n, you know how his parents were, how his brother was, how his whole family was. They had a stronger hold on him than he would ever care to admit, he was a lost cause.”

“Fuck you, Remus.” You spat, “He changed and you know it. He wasn’t like them. And if you truly believe that he did it, you clearly didn’t know him at all.”

“Y/n-”

“No. You are just using your brain. Your stupid logical brain and you only looked at the evidence. Your not looking at the fact that Sirius loved James. He was like a brother to him. No, he was a brother to him. He saved him. And if you think that Sirius would ever do anything to hurt James, Lily or their son, get the fuck away from me.”

The werewolf opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word you cut in.

“I said get out.”

He didn’t bother arguing with you. He could see the pain and misery that had consumed you. You were going to need time. You would come around eventually.

You never did.

The first year was the worst. The glances, the whispers, the points, the overwhelming sense of pity that made you just about want to drown. The only thing that kept you going was Harry. You had to stay sane, for him. If Harry wasn’t yours you would have gone crazy for sure, maybe ending up in Azkaban right next to your fiance. But you kept a straight face. And you pretended to accept what everyone else seemed to believe to be a fact.

You continued in the Order but it soon trickled out as Voldemort became less and less relevant. Once you were done with the Oder you got a job as a lawyer in a small law firm. No one at the firm was quite sure how, but you almost had a magical way of getting witnesses to confess directly on the stand.

You detach yourself from the magical world, know that soon you would have to plunge back into it with Harry soon enough. The years sped by, and soon enough you were taking Harry to platform 9 ¾. You damn near through up as you watched Harry walk onto that platform, images of a boy who had pulled your braids and helped you with Defense Against the Dark Arts years before flashed through your mind. It didn’t help that a young girl who impeccably resembled Lily kept looking your way.

By Harry’s third year you were heading to Hogwarts every other weekend to watch his quidditch matches. He was better than James. You thought of James and Lily often. Harry looked like James, but his eyes. His eyes would always be Lily. You only dared to think of Sirius in the deep of the night. When it was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. So late you could convince yourself it was a dream. There was only one person who you kept in your mind constantly.

Peter Pettigrew.

You knew he was alive. You knew he was somewhere out there. You knew that he had murdered his best friends. You knew he was the reason Sirius was in jail. And you knew you were going to kill him.

You never spoke of Peter but your mind was clouded by red visions of him.

You had developed an unexplainable rage towards rats though. Well unexplainable to most.

But you had finally figured you how to live your life. You had finally mastered the act of pretending when the headline broke.

When you heard Sirius had escaped you fainted. Harry had shown you the paper and you had crashed straight to the ground. Not but a day later your house was swarming with Aurors. Another thing you seemed to hate beyond a reasonable amount.

After the people you referred to as vultures left you had met up with Remus, who seemed convinced that Sirius was attempting to kill Harry. You had wanted to slap him. But you swallowed the ever-growing ball of hate and nodded along like a simple-minded bobblehead someone had just flicked.

You knew you were being watched, you could see their eyes everywhere, following your every move. You kept quiet silently praying Sirius has lost his dumbass energy in jail and had enough sense to stay away from you. He did.

Reus had called you at 8:00 at night. “Y/n. You need to come here right now.” his voice was so desperate that you couldn’t refuse.

“Where to?” Your voice was a hushed whisper.

“You know the place we used to camp as kids? James would always try to scare you and always end up getting punched in the face.”

“Of course. How could I forget?” You giggled slightly the memory of campfires and smores, the feeling a leather jacket that was always wrapped around your shoulder. “I’ll see you in five.”

You once again filled your head with images of that small clearing, the large tree to the right side that you would always try (and fail) to climb. The circle of stumps you had dragged over as James harassed Lily. The scent of pine always so strong and fresh. And then you opened your eyes and you were there.

The stumps were decaying into the ground, moss covering them like a blanket of green. Dusk was setting in and the world was growing dark. You could see the lights of Hogwarts in the distance. You glanced up your eyes landing on the one star that shone brightly in the heavy grey sky.

“Sirius.” You mumbled to yourself. The name rolling off you tongue so easily it hurt.

“Y/n!” Remis ran towards you his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and excitement.

You turned towards him whipping your hair around. For a second you could have sworn your name had fallen out of someone else’s lips.

“We have to go. Come on.”

You followed obediently until you reached the outskirts of the forest.

Remus stopped suddenly running back to face you. “You have to change.”

“Change?” you asked. He nodded expectantly. Suddenly you remembered. “But Re I haven’t-”

“You need to.”

You sighed closing your eyes and intaking a sharp breath. You felt yourself shrink and grow a fur coat until when you opened your eyes you were looking at Remus’ knees.

The werewolf smiled down at the pretty black dog below him. You smiled wolfishly at him flashing a pair of sharp k-9 fangs. He just chuckled before sprinting through the grounds.

You followed easily jogging beside the man. When you reached the whomping willow you wait for Rums to pull his trick before darting into the small cave at its trunk.

As the cavern began to open up you switched back, happy to be walking on two legs again. Remus soon caught up with you as you entered the shrieking shack.

There he was, his back turned, hair a frizzy mess you almost giggled childishly at. You felt your heart soar to your throat.

“Ah, Moony, took you lon-” His sentence dropped. As he turned. His eyes locking with yours as you struggled to keep a straight face. Sirius’ eyes widened mouth dropping. “Oh my god.”

He took two steps toward you, so hesitant and careful, as if moving any faster would cause you to bolt. “Y/n?” his voice was broken.

“I’m sorry?” You spoke holding back a shit-eating grin, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

His face crumpled and you felt a wave of guilt was over you. He stumbled backward stuttering for words. His mind spinning.

Finally, you broke into a smile, “I’m only kidding Siri.” you giggled, only seconds after you finished your sentence you felt your body collide with his.

His arms wrapped around you so tight you felt your breath squeezed form you lungs. Your heart raced as you nuzzled closer to the man, you felt tears prick your eyes, “I could never forget you.”

Taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema

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witchcraft-in-wonderland · 4 years

Text

Snakes and Scandals (Pt.1)

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

Virgil Blanche hated a lot of things, that was a given. He was, after all, an extremely poor twenty-two year old man living in the slums of a high-end empire city. Every day he would sit through nearly ten hours of abuse from costumers who were raised to think they were better than everyone else, and even the ones who weren't born rich were corrupted very quickly.

"Excuse me? Is this still eligible for a return? I tried at another store and they rejected me but I only bought it a few days ago," Virgil merely sighed at the hat and scarf clad man in front of him.

"If you bought it less than two months ago its eligible for return, if someone told you it wasn't you can file a complaint," Virgil never spoke very clearly, but he appreciated the man at least pretending to understand what he was saying.

"Thank you," it was at this point Virgil seemed to register that the man was speaking with a slight russian accent.

"Have a nice day," Virgil said in a monotone voice.

The day continued as all days working in customer service usually did, of course, had Virgil checked his calendar, maybe he would've realized that it was National Frame a Retailer For Flirting With You day. He didn't have much time to react, whoever the girl who'd used him as a cheating scapegoat was, she was very quiet, and her boyfriend was very fast.

"You tryna make her look dumb? Huh? Is that what you want?" Virgil tried to protest but ended up with a faceful of knuckles instead.

He should've known it wouldn't end well for him, at least he wasnt dead, but now he had a bloody face and was sitting in the managers office, waiting to hear his fate.

"So you punched him?" Virgil's boss was very stereotypical, blonde, bob-cut, light brown eyes, and Virgil knew she hated him. She always acted excited about his new piercings or tattoos, and of course she congratulated him when she found out he'd finally managed to afford top surgery after saving up since age fourteen. But he could tell it was all fake. He wasn't social enough for customer service, after all.

"In self defense, only after he broke my nose," Virgil responded. His manager pursed her lips together, glaring slightly from behind her glasses.

"And you are aware they intended to sue, yes?" Virgil gritted his teeth,of course they were, after all, why attack a store employee if you didn't want to sue them, or, at least, if you didn't want free starbucks every time you showed up.

"No, I wasn't, because they attacked me first," Virgil said calmly.

"I'm sorry Virgil but I'm going to have to fire you," there was no hiding the look of pure glee on the managers face as she delivered the news.

Virgil merely set his name tag on the table and left, all the while clutching his face. It burned, badly, some people needed to go to the gym less.

"You alright dude?" Virgil moved his hand to look at the man in front of him. Tall, skinny, with a mustache on his face and a white streak in his hair. The man had a worried look on his face, though his eyes conveyed a vague crazed look.

"Yeah, sure," Virgil said. He was about to walk away when the taller man grabbed his arm.

"Come with me, I'll help clean you up," Virgil was honestly to tired to argue, so instead he merely followed.

"Roman! I think I found you a new model! A little bruised up but I think he'll be ok soon enough!" Virgil had stopped listening after 'model'.

"Wait wait wait wait wait- I am definitely not a model-" Virgil tried to shrink in on himself.

"Well of course you arent yet! Oh Remus you life saver look at him! He's brilliant!" A boy who looked similar to the one with the mustache rushed out from behind a pillar, planting a kiss on the receptionists cheek as he ran.

Remus smiled, "I'll go get some ice packs and bandages, you two can talk," he said, running off.

"Roman Prince-Duke, head of Rome Fashion Company," Roman said, holding a hand out.

"Virgil Blanche, head of confused and worried emotions company," Virgil said, Roman let out a laugh.

"So what happened? If you're comfortable sharing that is," Roman said, gesturing to Virgil's face.

"Girl got her boyfriend to attack me at work for the sake of coupons," Virgil said, shrugging.

"Oh dear. . ." Roman said, his face falling slightly.

A few minutes later Virgil was sitting on a bench with ice pressed against his face and Roman listening intently as the receptionist told him what he should do.

"Gods Lolo you're so cute when you're being smart," Roman said, smiling and leaning his elbow on his knee, head pressed against his hand. The receptionist's face flushed with color.

Virgil honestly wasn't sure how calling him a model wasn't a joke, yet here he was sitting in the lobby waiting for Roman.

"Alright Virgil! Let's get you ready for your first shoot shall we?" Roman brought Virgil up by the hand, spinning him slightly before guiding him to another room.

"Lucky for you we have plenty of outfits in your size," Roman said.

"Mention my height and the fabric scissors might find their way up your nose," Virgil growled. Being 4'8 never exactly helped his case, he didn't normally get aggressive easily but it was a bit touchy for him.

"Oh dont worry, I learned my lesson with Lo on our first date," Roman said.

An hour or so later Virgil was dressed in a purple sleeveless top with black lace along the neckline, a black corset, ruffled black skirts, and black boots with heels. It felt, nice, and Virgil wasnt sure why. Normally he hated the way he looked in everything, but for once in his life he felt like royalty.

"Remy! I've got a new model for you!" Roman said as they entered another room with all manner of different sets and cameras set up.

A man with a leather jacket and sunglasses popped out from behind one, jaw dropping slightly "Roman you SAINT! Where'd you find him?!" Remy said, circling Virgil and looking him up and down.

"That credit goes to Remus, speaking of which, I've got business to attend to, you boys have fun," Roman said, turning on his heel to leave, the nearly floor length skirt of his outfit sweeping behind him.

"Alright babes you look like you're about to pass out right now so let's take a little break m'kay?" Remy walked with Virgil to a room that seemed primarily composed of bean bags.

They sat there for a while, Remy asking him questions and telling him his own stories. Before suddenly he got up and held a hand out for him. Virgil took it and allowed himself to be lead to a set covered in giant mushrooms and flowers. Remy spent a few minutes posting him, bringing out a few props for him to prop his arms on.

"Now just relax and give me a smile, you look like you're good at subtle, let's try some of those first," said Remy from behind the camera.

Virgil started out the shoot wishing it would be over already, but by the end he couldnt seem to stop looking at his own reflection in the camera lens.

"Oh Jan's going to lose it when he sees these!" Roman said, looking through the pictures from his phone.

"Who's Jan?-" Virgil said, tilting his head slightly.

"Oh you probably know him as Dimitri, he's a rival of mine," Roman handed Virgil a magazine, one scan of the front cover and Virgil recognized the man from a week ago, he was wearing the same hat and scarf as before. He read the caption above it. "Dimitri Gabriel to release new line inspired by endangered reptile species, all proceeds to go to preservation funding, no real scales used," he handed the article back to Roman.

"I've seen that guy, he was returning something the day I got fired," Virgil said.

"Oh even better! He'll recognize you!" Said Roman.

"Wait where are these even going?" Virgil said.

"My stylegram, you dont seem like the type who likes runways, so Remus and I have decided you'll be a social media model," Roman said.

"Well- guess I better make my own account then," Virgil said, pulling out his own phone.

It was only a few minutes before the comments flooded in, he recognized Janus' face, though his handle still conveyed his name as Dimitri. His face flushed red at the compliments. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but the feeling that Janus was impressed by his looks gave him an intense sensation of joy.

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

Tag List:

@nerosdayinhell

@official-lucifers-child

@meowthefluffy

@spooky-scary-virgil

@misunderstoodshadowling

@youtuberswithalex

#snakes and scandals au #romantic anxceit #anxceit #mosleep #romantic mosleep #intrumile #romantic intrumile #imagimile #romantic imagimile #romantic logince #logince #violence tw #tw violence #violence mention #violence #tw blood #blood tw #blood

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archived-kin · 3 years

Note

Hi hello. I just read your Simeon bf himbo angel post and I. Fuckin. Love. It. So. Much. I'm like the Cheshire cat grinning so bloody much. It made me so giddy and I just wanna jump over the moon! I'm a 150cm girl and hmmm probably never going to be a beefy himbo in my life but it was so wonderul coming across a post like this. Yes to more male mc content! Get that visibility and presence! ✨the dynamics✨✨the theatrics✨✨the execution✨ just makes me melt into goo and wanna endear myself entirely to the post. 🥺 The longevity and dedication that Simeon and best Boi himbo have for each other. 2 millenia even tho it's probs relative to their ages but still damn 🥺the face planting for Belphie and the stray cat 🥺 Dia getting a shoulder rollercoaster ride 🥺 Levi being super duper comfortable with someone 🥺 Lucifer being cute Tryna pretend he can't lift shit 🥺 Barb doting on himbo angel (iwishthatwasmehaha). I just jehfufidjoeufhdp0wuej khlfhoe I LOVE IT SO FRICKIN MUCH U DONT EVEN KNOW. U MADE MY DAY. DELIVERED WHAT I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED. I have now screenshot n saved this into my gallery. Endorphin boost as it's one of my fav posts now. It was sublimely written so 👏please 👏give 👏 yourself 👏due 👏credit 👏I also just wanted to ask how does Luci not know himbo bf even tho he's older than Luke? (Cuz mcpridey recognises chihuahua) it's all g if u don't have any answer for it, I'm just so enamoured by the piece 🥰 Seriously thank you. You delivered on the relationship quirks for each obm character which were so vibrant and entertaining! I WOULD DIE TO SEE HIMBO3 COMBO NWKFUJOEWB! Tough Bois who can be soft Bois and smol beans just deserve all the love and recognition. 💖 Thank you. I would like to respectfully smooch every single one of them. You made me ✨feel✨ blissful emotions which have been sparse cuz of my shit sleeping schedule. I sincerely hope you have been doing well. I just uh. Man the loyalty and love that those two have for each other kinda makes me emotional? Cuz I kinda think it's so hard to find and maintain that in real life? N v few ppl manage to leave life with that love? It's just so sweet to imagine n be wistful about it. Hehe I'm ready (whenever U r -plz no pressure) to read it other stuff since this post has made me dedicate my undying love to u n the piece itself. It just made my day. Thank you again 😍

Anon who couldn't send in the first ask 😭 (I think I'm a bit more subdued ver.2 cuz I'm more tired lol sorry)

P.S The sheer death sentence that would warrant any pea brain to speak ill of himbo angel is hilarious. The horizon just has the nobility and royalty death glaring at the fool while himbo turns around and is like 🌻guys!🌻 N it's all warm smiles until beefy Boi turns back around. N the candy making 🍭. The gardening 💐 I'm sobbing at the wholesomeness 🥺 lol I actually don't usually go for himbos but it's just too good 🤍

ANON DO YOU WANT TO KILL ME?? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??? I'M GOING TO CRY YOU'RE SO SWEET AHHHHHHHHHHH

thank you so much for taking the time to tell me this!!!! i really can't express how darn happy it made me and i'm so glad that you enjoy my writing this much!! to answer your question about how lucifer knows luke but not our lovely boy - the way i see it, i'm pretty sure luke knew lucifer before he fell, since we're told that he used to admire him even more than michael before he and the brothers rebelled and fell from the celestial realm (though i'd assume he was still very young and doesn't remember it clearly, since he apparently doesn't remember lilith), and i'd assume that he and lucifer have interacted since while the latter was a demon considering how much luke apparently hates him and how familiar lucifer's teasing is, while himbo angel hasn't really stepped foot out of the celestial realm and his gardens until joining simeon during his transfer year and was made during the war, which means that lucifer wouldn't have had an opportunity to meet him outside of maybe seeing him head butting demons out of the sky

hope that clears things up!! and thank you again for you message, i'm pretty sure it's made my entire week :'))))))

#answering asks #anon asks #I AM INTERNALLY SCREAMING (IN A GOOD WAY)#ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH HHHHHHHHHHHH #<3333333333

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

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Ram/Sita + spy au+ friends to lovers + “you know i’ll do anything for you”

lol this...AGAIN....spun out of my control.....and is apparently 6020 words while still having massive massive holes in characterization and plot and ...general stuff..lol. anyways hope u like it? it ended up being way less Spy Spy and more ....arranged marriage au...... because everything i’ve written has basically been that now lol and raazi is the only spy movie i could think of that works bc rama and sita dont have mr and mrs smith vibes to me. love u!!!!!!

----

“Are you serious?”

The face on the screen is somehow almost as familiar as Sita’s own -- she’s never been one for the gossip rags, but at some point, it’s almost harder not to know the features of someone who’s been famous since his parents announced his conception.

“You know him, then.” Sita’s handler Kaikeyi seems remarkably even-tempered for a woman charging Sita, her top recruit, to attach herself to the arm of Kaikey’s stepson -- a boy that the papers seem to believe Kaikeyi prefers even to her own Bharata. Sita raises an incredulous eyebrow before realizing that Kaikeyi does actually expect Sita to recite what she knows about her newest target.

“Ramachandra Raghav,” Sita recites from memory, “but the papers call him Ram. Only son of Dasaratha and his first wife Kausalya, sole presumptive inheritor to the Kosala industries fortune. Dasaratha Raghav and his wife publicly struggled to conceive and adopted a daughter, Shanta, nine years before they had Ram whose birth coincided with the release of Dasartha’s final film and his entry into politics.” Sita purses her lips, unsure if she should continue, but Kaikeyi remains impassive. “Dasaratha and Kausalya divorced when Ram was five, and three months later Dasaratha married you.” Judiciously Sita chooses not to include the fact that Kaikeyi, who during her acting days had only been paired with the already greying movie star, reportedly delivered her eight-pound son Bharata three months early.

Kaikeyi rolls her eyes, still the same striking green that had made her first film such a hit. “Of course I was pregnant when we got married. What else.”

Sita racks her mind. “The custody case was unusual -- Kausalya shifted to America with her children, but Dasaratha petitioned for them to stay with him in India. Shanta was 16 and decided to finish school abroad with Kausalya, but the courts decided that Ram would spend alternate years with each parent until he reached his majority.” It was the oddity of the arrangement that kept the Indian public so desperate for news about what otherwise might have been just another star-turned-politician’s son: pictures of Bharata, who was constantly being presented at building openings, movie premiers and other assorted Party functions went for nearly a quarter of the price as those of Ram whose arrival at the Delhi airport became more and more of a national event in sync with his father’s increasing political power. The exoticism of his American English was viewed with as much pride as his unaccented Hindi which the Party often used to great effect, having him canvass his father’s constituents on camera the year Dasaratha was put forward as the party’s candidate for Chief Minister and releasing them online.

But it has been a few years since Ram was last in India for more than a month or so’s vacation -- at 16 he graduated from school and sent the Indian media into near paralytic shock when he decided to attend university in Delhi. Not even three years dimmed the public’s fascination, which quickly turned into genuine discontent when it was announced that Ram had accepted an offer to do his doctorate in California and had barely been seen in India since.

“You want me to investigate a Chief Minister’s son?” Again, Sita leaves unsaid the rumors that swirl even in headquarters -- that Dasaratha’s relative competency at state-wide management has made him a viable candidate for even higher office. That after the last election’s dismal results, it is apparent that Dasaratha might be the only remaining Party figure popular enough to lead a coalition that would bring them to power in the Centre after nearly a decade at the periphery.

Kaikeyi laughs. “Not quite,” she says, still perfect red lips twisting in a faint smile, “Ram is in New York now working for the UN, and it seems that he will have a long and illustrious career in diplomacy which will bring him into contact with all sorts of people of interest to our national security agencies. We need someone at his side to make sure that those contacts are being utilized to their full potential.”

Sita frowns. “He’s too young to need a trusted aide or a secretary.”

“Correct. That’s why we’re sending you to New York as his wife.”

When Sita is 18, a woman comes up to her on the street asking if she’d like to be a model. As a laugh Sita shows up at what the woman’s business card says is the head-hunting agency’s main office only to be quickly moved to a backroom, divested of her backpack, phone and shoes and investing her with a new lifelong wariness of strangers with offers too good to be true. Her father is the aging yet venerable University President -- they don’t have the money for ransom, but Sita just as quickly rules out potential trafficking since her father has one or two connections that would raise quite the fuss if he informed them that his daughter was missing. But before she can think of another reason behind her apparent kidnapping, the door opens, and Sita’s life changes with the incoming rush of bright light into the dark room.

“You’re..” she splutters, eyes raking up and down the perfect figure of the woman in front of her.

“Yes,” Kaikeyi Raghav says, sunglasses perched delicately at the top of her head as she adjusts the pallu of her elegant chiffon sari. “I’m sorry for all the confusion, but we really needed to get you alone before we could try and talk to you.”

“Talk,” Sita rasps, suddenly hyper aware of her own dry throat. Kaikeyi sighs, clapping her hands once before taking a bottle of water that appeared almost instantly at the door’s threshold, opening the cap and offering it to Sita who gulps it down. “Talk about what?” Sita asks.

“One of our associates brought you to our attention about a year ago thinking that with some work you could be turned into something quite extraordinary.” Kaikeyi brings up her right hand to pull down her hair from its updo, the cascades only making her more breathtaking to Sita, whose father always had a soft spot for the old Dasaratha-Kaikeyi films. “I’ve been observing you ever since, and recently came to the same conclusion.”

Sita can’t help but glow at the praise, even as she tries to keep her sense of rationality -- she’s been kidnapped after all, even if by one of the nation’s most illustrious figures. First: “Are you trying to traffick me into sex work?”

Kaikeyi laughs, and the sound is clear and captivating like a bell. The more Sita watches, the smaller details begin to stand out -- a mole just slightly to the right of Kaikeyi’s collarbone, the green of the embroidery that brings out those colors in her eyes, the red fingernails that perfectly match Kaikeyi’s lips.

“Do I look like a pimp?” Kaikeyi’s tone is one that does not truly seek a response, though Sita is not sure she even has one. The proclivities of the rich and powerful are rumored to skew to the truly scandalous, and there is no reason that an elegant woman could not be the front for the procurement of such services.

“Then is this supposed to be recruitment for politics?” Sita has never thought herself particularly gifted at deception, which seems to be the first requirement for a fruitful career of public service.

“No,” Kaikeyi laughs again, “but I find it interesting that you didn’t consider that I might be signing you on as a heroine.”

“I don’t have a face for film,” Sita says, “and I have no intention of leaving Delhi.”

“You have exactly the face for film,” Kaikeyi counters, “but I agree -- your mind would be as wasted as mine in Bombay.”

“Then politics?” Sita, who was born and brought up in Calcutta before her father was given a position in Delhi had never given much thought to the Raghav’s stronghold Ayodhya -- she can’t imagine what Kaikeyi could possibly see in her.

Kaikeyi shakes her head. “What do you know about this country’s intelligence services?”

Sita blinks. “You want me to be a spy?”

Five years after their first meeting, Sita has learned how to handle all sorts of weapons including her own body, how to speak a dozen languages, how to scope out a room. In some strange way, Kaikeyi seems to have filled the gaping hole left behind by Sita’s long-dead mother Sunaina, who Sita is not entirely sure would approve of what her daughter decided to make of her life. There isn’t quite a bond of affection, but there is loyalty beyond even what Sita would have given her own mother -- no better proof than the fact that here Sita is agreeing to marry Kaikeyi’s stepson entirely because Kaikeyi demanded it, where Sunaina would have had quite the shock if she had tried to suggest a man for Sita to wed. Sita had dreamed of marrying for love, but loyalty she reasons is close enough.

Ostensibly, Sita has finished her MA with high honors and works at an NGO that enjoys Kaikeyi’s patronage -- this, they decide, is how the papers will be told Kaikeyi knows Sita. There are a few strategically leaked photos of Kaikeyi first paying the NGO a visit, then taking Sita out for a series of lunches. Sita finally travels to the ancestral Raghav mansion in Ayodhya for Diwali, bringing along her father to meet and pay his respects to his favorite screen star.

“You must be Sita’s father,” Dasaratha booms when they approach, somehow brimming with the same vitality and presence that drew such crowds to the theater in his youth. He grins, left arm wound around Kaikeyi’s waist at his side as he turns to speak to Sita. “My wife has grown old and taken up matchmaking to pass the time, but from what I have seen you would be a fine choice for my Ram.”

Janaka stiffens at Sita’s side, hearing about such an arrangement for the first time, but Dasaratha’s charisma pulls him into its orbit as Dasaratha reaches out his hands. “I confess that I was never well educated myself, but I believe it would only bring me and my family honor to be able to call someone as learned as yourself ‘Brother.’”

Janaka is sold. Sita, who has never been quite sure about the real dynamic between Kaikeyi and her husband, realizes with some relief that there is genuine fondness, even love, in the smile she flashes her husband. Perhaps there might be hope for Sita herself.

Dasaratha insists that the informal engagement is enough to justify Sita and her father’s extended stay at the mansion. After one day, he calls Ram himself informing his son that Dasaratha has found him a wife. Within a week, the news reports that Dasaratha’s eldest son has found himself back on Indian soil.

Sita finally leaves the mansion two weeks after Diwali with the instruction that she must treat the property as her own home whenever she returns to India -- after all, Dasaratha booms, she is his beloved Ram’s wife now, and Dasaratha’s daughter now as much as Janaka’s.

“So,” Sita says on their first night, sitting on what's supposed to be their marital bed, “what name should I call you?”

Her husband raises an eyebrow, silent just as he has been for almost the entire week since he was called home. Kaikeyi, when Sita asked for details, had not elaborated on the character of her stepson nor had she offered details about how Sita might best seduce him.

“Follow your instincts,” Kaikeyi had said, smiling at Sita’s frustration. “You’ll know what I mean when you spend time with him.”

Well, Sita thinks perversely, her instincts are telling her to confess everything to the man she has promised herself to in front of her father, and God almighty. Somehow, she is meant to maintain a lifelong relationship with a man she is only now speaking to, and to mine his contacts for information to send back to her handler, his stepmother.

“The papers call you Ram,” Sita says, only a little sullen at the thought of the task ahead of her, “as does your family. Is that what you prefer to go by?”

“My father’s family,” he corrects mildly, and Sita immediately flushes at the mistake. Kaushalya and Shanta had of course come, but arrived only the night before the wedding -- Sita had met them both the morning of, but only enough to touch their feet and have Kaushalya cluck, teary-eyed, over the beauty of Sita in her wedding sari.

“Of course,” Kaushalya had said off-handedly to Shanta standing at her side, “Kaikeyi has always had excellent taste.” Sita had not trusted herself to answer.

“Will we live with your mother in America?” Sita has been provided with what she considers shockingly little information regarding her future living situation -- Kaikeyi insists that, largely, this assignment requires Sita to effectively live her own life and as such being more information than provided a new wife would only detract from her performance.

He shakes his head. “My mother and Shanta live in New York too, but Shanta needed to be closer to Columbia and...” he looks away, suddenly just slightly awkward. “Things changed so much for Mother throughout my life that I think she was finally able to find some type of stability when I was away at university. When it turned out that I was moving back, I didn’t want to be the one to throw her life back into flux.”

Sita nods. “Are you close?”

Her husband hums, fingers of one hand slightly worrying at the hem of a blanket. “As much as I can be, having spent every other year away.”

Sita can’t imagine -- for years, the story of the boy caught so explicitly between two worlds has always been interesting or amusing, but now that she’s confronted with him in the flesh she knows that it must have been sad, too. She tries to imagine a mother committing to the notion that the child she waves off at the airport gate would not be the one who returned, and finds that it’s impossible.

“It must have been difficult,” she offers, not elaborating on whether she is speaking of her husband’s family, or himself.

He nods. “Father and Mother Kaikeyi always had Bharata, and the Party. I was glad when Mother found Sumitra and the boys.”

Sita’s eyes widen. “A friend?”

He turns his body to look at her for the first time head-on. “No,” he says, eyes boring into Sita’s, exuding the same gravitational force as his father. “Her wife. The boys are my Father’s during a...period of disagreement with Mother Kaikeyi, and when Sumitra decided to keep them Mother brought her to New York to have the children. They fell in love.”

This is a test, Sita realizes, and for the first time, she realizes the wisdom of Kaikeyi’s lack of preparatory material even as she curses Kaikeyi in equal measure. She would have liked to have not been blindsided, but there is a truth to her reaction she could never have mimicked so effectively. Her mind roils with the amount of information relayed in such few sentences -- Dasaratha, already so old, still fathering sons. Kaikeyi and her husband having a disagreement so strident it sent him into another’s arms. Kausalya, raising more of Dasaratha’s children as her own. Kausalya, in love with a woman.

Her silence has drawn on too long during her contemplation, and her husband’s eyes have gone cold as he leans away from her.

“You call her Sumitra,” she decides on, “but if she’s your mother’s wife, should I call her mother in law as well?”

Her husband is wide-eyed himself for a moment, but then his face cracks into a smile just dripping with sudden, unexpected delight. Sita’s heart skips a beat at the sight.

“It would make her very happy if you did,” he says. “And as for me, my mother has always insisted on calling me Ramachandra and none of my siblings use my name at all. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

---

“Rama!” Sita exclaims, trying to rise from the chair behind her desk and managing to trip on the hanging sleeve of the sweater she had been sitting on. She laughs, picking herself up off the ground. “Oh, and you brought the boys too!”

It’s been a year since Sita moved to New York, a year in which she’s found fulfilling work at a South Asian women’s shelter, learned how to navigate herself via subway to find the best of ten different cuisines in New York, read three books related to Shanta’s new area of interest, featured in the boys’ Instagram Lives over 20 different times, and found herself a best friend in the form of her husband.

Ram, she had decided, was how the public knew him even if his father’s family chose the same. Ramachandra was much too long. Rama was short, sweet, vowels easy in Sita’s mouth.

“No one calls me that,” he’d said when she’d first used the name, his tone again one of unexpected delight. “I’ve always thought it was strange that they never did.”

Sita’s due a lunch break, but she’s always been prone to eating at her desk unless she’s eating out -- a budgeted, once weekly expense she keeps track of after the humiliating exorbitancy of her first month’s bill.

“We have money,” Rama had said, bemused at Sita’s profuse apologies. “I’ve got a trust fund, but my salary certainly pays well enough for this.” He’d glanced at the bill Sita had handed him as she had wrung her hands in front of him, so unsure of how she’d managed to spend so much. “It looks like this is mostly just restaurant charges anyway, and,” he’d looked up at Sita with a smile, rising to hold her hands before she could twist them again, “you live in New York now. I’m glad that you’ve spent the last month trying all sorts of the things the city has to offer. It’s exactly what I did when I moved back, except I probably spent twice as much.”

Sita had felt the first of many twin pangs at his kindness -- one pang of joy, at being with someone so well suited to herself, and another of sorrow when she thought of how their relationship was founded on a lie. Kaikeyi had told Sita that there was no need to actively seek out contacts for at least the first year, and so the extent of her real work was having regular conversations with Kaikeyi that easily blurred the line between professional and personal relationships.

“Is he any good at sex,” Kaikeyi had asked one day after asking for a report about Rama’s “family situation” which Sita found distressingly similar to the inquiries of a second wife wondering about her husband’s former paramours. Sita had hung up.

“Sita?” Sita starts, bringing herself out of her reverie and smiling.

“Sorry,” she says, grabbing her coat. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Something interesting?” He takes the coat and holds it out for Sita to slip her arms into, smoothing down the lapels when she turns around. “I spent the whole morning stuck in the single least productive set of meetings, and knowing them they’re probably arguing about what appetizers to get for lunch. I’ve never felt as lucky as I did when I told them all that, unfortunately, I’d already logged that I was taking a half-day to take care of my brothers.”

The boys scowl. “We’re thirteen years old,” Lakshmana says. Shatrughana nods in agreement. “We could have gone home by ourselves!”

Sita flashes Rama a smile, leaning down with an expression as if in deep thought. “That’s true enough -- if you’d like we can send you home and just join you after I finish work, but aren’t your moms on a health kick right now?”

Lakshmana, always the more suspicious of the pair, crosses his arms. “And?”

“Well,” Sita drawls, hearing Rama snort softly next to her, “your brother and I were thinking of taking you to the greasiest joint we can find in walking distance, and then to 7/11 after to find you both snacks for when you spend the weekend at our apartment. But if you’d rather not, that’s totally ok too!”

The boys fall for the line, hook and sinker.

“Oh,” Lakshmana says, voice suddenly a pitch lower than usual as he squares his shoulders in what Sita doesn’t think any of the three recognize is his best imitation of Rama, “that’s ok.” He looks over at Shatrughana, who nods. “Family is important. Let’s go eat!”

“Thank you,” Rama says softly after they’ve finally decided where to eat and are walking in the correct direction. Sita raises an eyebrow. “You’re good with the boys,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I was expecting to have to take them out on my own, and stay at my mother’s when I wanted to spend time with them but --”

Sita interrupts him before he says something truly embarrassing about what she only sees as a pleasure. “It’s easy when they’re such good kids,” she says, “and I would have done it even if it was harder. It’s the least I could have done for you, after everything.”

Everything being the credit cards he’d given her when they landed, his insistence that he wouldn’t monitor her spending and would set up a bank account for her that he would periodically transfer money into but not be able to access. Everything being the books he shared with her and the books he read on her recommendation, in turn, the concerts they’d attended together, the plays and musicals and movies and street festivals. Everything being the conversations they’d had on the couch until late at night, the meals he learned to cook because they reminded her of home.

The one similarity underlying all others between them, Sita realized one day, was that they had both grown up lonely, without anyone person, they could claim truly, entirely understood them. Neither of them had had a best friend until they met the other. By unspoken agreement, they had not consummated their marriage that first night, nor during the first few hectic months of Sita’s acclimation to New York. Eventually, it became easier to simply maintain things as they were and to enjoy the novelty of a companion before things became ... complicated.

If a part of Sita insisted that she hold off from sex so as to not build even more on an inherently unstable foundation -- if that same part screamed that her husband had given her trust beyond all else and she squandered the gift every day she didn’t tell him who she really was -- then that was something for Sita, and only Sita, to think about.

---

“Oh,” Sita hears from the bathroom threshold, glancing through the mirror at the figure Rama cuts in his tailored tuxedo. It’s been nearly a year and six months since their marriage, and what Sita thought of as friendship has since bloomed into a wild, uncontrollable love. Yet, she keeps her love to herself, knowing that it would be cruel to offer him fruit with a rotted core.

He cares too, she knows -- only a fool could willingly ignore the little signs of it he offers so freely, long and lingering looks, kisses to her cheek, forehead, the corner of her lips and the edges of her knuckles. She knows that her resistance to further intimacy must confuse him, perhaps even hurt him, but still, she can’t help but think that things would be worse if she gave in only for him to find out later. Sometimes, she wonders if Dasaratha knows about Kaikeyi -- if Lakshmana and Shatrughana owe their existence to a revelation of the truth which so discomfited their sire that he sought another woman to drown in.

Sita is selfish, far too much so, to allow the truth to poison what she now has, half-life as it is. So she smiles over meals Rama cooks for her, meets the contacts Kaikeyi has started sending her way during lunch breaks she takes less frequently at her desk and begins preparing her heart for when things will inevitably fall apart. Today, she and Rama will attend a gala meant to raise funds for refugees which will double as a drop-point for some dissident’s data collection from the last five years on the inside of their regime’s surveillance operation.

“You look beautiful,” Rama says, walking in. Sita’s hands, haphazardly smoothing down the last wisps of hair that refuse to curve to her skull in their updo, pause when he places his own over them. “Is that my mother’s sari?”

Sita nods. “The style has come back,” she says, reaching out to the counter for the strand of jasmine Sumitra had sent to their apartment to be paired with Kausalya’s sari. “Even Kaikeyi approved, which means that this outfit technically has the approval of all three of your mothers, and your sister as well.”

Rama smiles softly, taking the jasmine and pinning it up with a deft hand that speaks of experience. “I’ve never been one to keep up with fashion trends, but I think you wear it very well.”

“Kaikeyi says it makes me look like a movie star.” In order for the drop to be successful, Kaikeyi had demanded Sita pull out all the stops possible within the relatively demure confines of charity-wear. Sita’s blouse plunges at the back, skin unobstructed by a pallu or bra, and she shivers slightly when Rama’s left-hand traces lines.

“I suppose she would know,” he says absently, eyes raking up and down at Sita’s reflection in the mirror they both face, passing over her eyes rimmed with kohl and her dark red lips. His right-hand falls to his pocket, searching for a moment before he finds what he needs, pulling out a pair of beautiful earrings Sita hadn’t known he had.

“Mother Kaikeyi had me get these from storage a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure if they would suit what you were planning on wearing.” They look at the pieces in his hands, realizing together how well the earrings will look with Sita’s sari.

“Will you put them on me,” Sita asks, voice thin and breathy despite herself. His hands are gentle, just slightly cool to the touch as they gently thread the earrings into her lobes, tightening the screws and caressing her ear before moving to ghost over Sita’s hips. If Sita moved into his touch, allowed him to grasp her body so hard that she bruised if she turned her face just slightly and brushed her lips against his -- her entire body is one flame, but even now she is attending this gala with her own motive, even has a small gun she plans on holstering to her left leg as insurance. She can’t.

She can’t. Sita takes one step forward, Rama’s hands falling back to his own sides.

“We’ll be late,” Sita says, moving them back into purgatory instead of choosing heaven or hell.

Rama shakes his head slightly, taking a breath. “Yes,” he replies, tone never betraying a sense of the frustration he must feel. He smiles again, holding out a hand. Sita will tell him one day, she tells herself. He deserves that much.

“Let’s go.”

One day, it seems, will be sooner rather than later. Sita’s very first drop of this assignment, after nearly two years of prep, and it seems like she’s going to end up just another statistic, shot in the head for all her efforts.

Worse, she thinks, she’s going to break Rama’s heart. The dissident was less careful than they’d thought, trusted someone they shouldn’t have, and now they’re both being held up against a wall and being told to recite any final prayers for their souls. Sita’s single measly gun at her hip wouldn’t change the odds of 10 against 2, especially since no amount of physical training will significantly change the realities of her smaller physique going up against larger numbers of even better-trained muscle.

She only wishes that she’d thrown caution to the wind once, had told Rama the truth and let the cards fall where they may. She wishes she could see him one more time and apologize, reassure him that her love was true even if her initial motives weren’t.

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere in the distance, away from their cluster of a firing squad. Her heart simultaneously sinks and soars to realize that the voice is Rama. “That’s my wife!”

The leader laughs, just as the dissident sobs. Sita clutches their hand tighter. “Then I’m sorry to say that she hasn’t been much of a wife,” the leader sneers, “just another one of Kaikeyi’s little rats meddling where they’re unwanted.”

“Run!” Sita screams, deciding that she’d rather Rama be alive than hear her confessions before he too is killed. “For my sake run, before they decide to kill you too!” In the back of her mind, she knows that it’s already too late -- people are executed for far less than what Rama is doing, which is continuing to walk forward.

He sighs audibly, not even pausing his forward momentum. “I’m sorry,” he says, and for some reason, Sita genuinely believes that he is. “You know I’d do anything for you, but there’s something I haven’t told you yet about me.”

Shouldn’t that be Sita’s line? “What,” she croaks, captivated by how he’s somehow holding the group hostage, each of them curiously watching as he walks right up to wear Sita and her companion stand against the wall. “Please,” she sobs, breaking her own vow to face death with dignity, “if you’ve ever cared about me, you would leave.”

Rama’s fingers come up to trace Sita’s bruised eye, her puffy lip, the cut at her cheekbone. “Concussion?” he asks, completely ignoring Sita’s plea.

“It hardly matters,” she says, “when I’m going to die in about five minutes. Just like you will if you don’t leave right now.”

Rama hums, right hand shifting down to her thigh, where her gun is strapped. Sita’s eyes widen as though the fabric he seems to be easing the gun out and up to where the fabric wraps around her waist. Left hand still caressing her cheek as the right holds the gun in place against her stomach, he leans in to gently kiss Sita’s forehead.

“All three of us are going to live tonight,” he says, so confident that it seems as if it would be absurd for Sita to think anything else as if even three against 10 the odds are stacked firmly in their favor. “Hold this for me?”

Sita’s hand shifts down to the gun still hidden in the fabric as Rama steps away and turns, his hands now busy divesting himself of his tuxedo jacket and the bowtie Sita had so painstakingly learned how to tie for him earlier.

“Now,” he says casually, as everyone watches him worry at his cufflinks, dropping them in the pile now at Sita’s feet, later followed by his wedding ring. “Unfortunately for you all this means that you will not be surviving this encounter. Do you have any last words?”

The leader laughs. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Rama’s left-hand reaches out behind him. Sita, as if in a trance, dutifully fishes out the gun and places it in his hand before realizing that she has something she needs to say before it's too late. His own confidence gives her some of her own, but still how could he possibly win? How will they possibly survive -- and if, against all odds they do, what on earth is she going to say? So: “I love you,” she blurts out, smiling slightly when Rama’s head twists to look at her, incredulous, but before he can respond the first bullet fires and he explodes into action.

For the first two minutes, the fight is 10 against 1 and still, Rama makes it look like child play. Weaving in and out, every shot he fires taking down at least one if not more of the men against him. At some point, he grabs another gun and tosses it in Sita’s direction, whose entrance into the melee serves to turn the tide even further. At least she’s always been a good shot, she thinks to herself, taking a man out even when her head rings with what she knows her husband accurately diagnosed as the beginning of a concussion. Part of her can’t do anything but watch as her studious, gentle husband breaks someone’s nose before shooting them through the heart.

Within five minutes, it’s over. Just like Rama said, all ten men are dead at their feet. The gun drops out of his hand, slippery now with other people’s blood. Sita’s kill count is 2. He’s just killed eight men.

“I...” Sita starts, realizing she doesn’t know what to say. She swallows, looking at the carnage around her and tries again to reconcile the sight with Rama’s soft sweaters, old fashioned glasses, and aversion of horror films. “How?”

Rama purses his lips. “Same as you,” he says, wiping his hands on his pants with a grimace. “Mother Kaikeyi trained me, and while I was in India I was sent on assignment.”

Sita pauses. “You’re a spy?” Even as she says it, she knows that she’s in no position to speak with such scandal in her voice -- yet, she thinks, she had thought she knew him, that he had trusted her.

Rama laughs as he never has: short, hollow, bitter. “No,” he says, “not anymore. And even when I was, I was more of a hitman than anything else. I quit and moved away, and I assume that’s why Mother Kaikeyi sent someone to make sure I didn’t step too far out of line as a rogue element.”

Somehow, Sita thinks, this is worse than she imagined. “No,” she says, rushing forward, hands wringing as if he’s looking again at her first credit card bill. “I asked at the beginning. It was never about you.”

Rama is silent for a moment that seems to stretch endlessly as the adrenaline wears off for Sita, and her aches start to make themselves known. Her face throbs, her head spins, and there’s something in the vicinity of her ribs that twinges while she stands still -- not broken, she doesn’t think, but maybe bruised? Rama’s hands, almost as if it were against his mind’s will, come to stop her hands and tangle his fingers in his own as they do nothing but stare into the darkness over the other’s shoulder. “I’m glad that that’s what you were told,” he says eventually, and Sita suddenly realizes that there is an entire lifetime’s worth of complication she hadn’t known existed.

“I wasn’t told anything,” she says, sure now that Dasaratha knows at least part of Kaikeyi’s truth, because why else would Kaikeyi have made sure that Sita walked into her relationship as transparent as possible. “Everything we shared was real.” She pauses, uncertain. “At least from my end.”

Rama’s hands are like vices, clutching Sita’s fingers so hard it feels like he’s cut her circulation. “From mine as well. So when you just said--”

“Yes,” Sita says, unable to say now what fear of imminent death had so successfully inspired. “Before, I was afraid of you finding out about me, but yes of course.”

Rama exhales. “I’d hoped that’s what was stopping you, but I was never entirely sure that you really were one of Mother Kaikeyi’s recruits,” he smiles with a hint of self-deprecation. “You’re a good actor, you know.”

“No,” Sita says, bringing her hands up to cup his face, finally deciding to be brave. “I’m really not.” She leans in.

Their first kiss is gentle, tastes just slightly like blood, and ends quickly when Sita’s lip is irritated and makes itself known. It’s perfect.

“I love you,” Rama breathes into the sliver of space when they part, one hand drifting to hold her at the waist, another rubbing small circles into the nape of her neck. Sita’s head spins, and not only from the concussion.

“Hey,” she hears from somewhere behind. “I’m glad you two seem to have made up...and also .... that we’re all alive. But can we go now?”

Sita laughs, and then immediately regrets doing so. “Yes,” she says as Rama holds her still, “let's go.”

#ramayana #maya writes #avani008

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kingjasnah · 4 years

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Is there the full list of brandersons favourite games reposted somewhere?

i dont think so? or not that ive seen. u can literally just sign up for the newsletter on his website but screw it ill just post them for u. it sure was a TRIP scrolling past these to get to the interlude though. undertale is on this list.....im shakign at the thought that adolin was based off ff10 tidus but i cant get it out of my head now

#10: Katamari Damaci

I love things that make me look at the world in a new way. Katamari did this in spades. It is an imaginative, bizarre vision with unique gameplay. It is like nothing else in the world and I love it for all its strangeness and occasional lack of gameplay polish.

I was transfixed the first time I played it, and have looked forward to it being remade and rereleased on multiple different consoles. I love the cute—and somehow creepy at the same time—storyline. It feels like a fever dream more than a game sometimes, and is probably the closest I’ll ever get to understanding what it’s like to do drugs.

#9: Undertale

This is an oddball on this list because I think it’s the only game that is not a franchise from a major studio—but is instead an indie game, which I believe was originally funded on Kickstarter.I loved how this felt like a novel as much as a game. It was one person’s vision; a single story told really well, with a huge amount of personality. The humor was just my kind of wonderful/terrible, and I was instantly enamored with the characters.That probably would have been enough, but it is a nice deconstruction of video games as a medium—and has not one, but multiple innovative gameplay mechanics. Together, the package left me enamored. This is a work of genius that I feel everyone should at least try, even if it ends up not being for them.

#8: Fallout: New Vegas

I have played all of the core Fallout games, and I was one of the (it seems few) who was really excited when it moved from turn-based tactics to first-person shooter. While Fallout 3 was good, it didn’t have the charm of the first two.New Vegas delivered on everything I was hoping to see. The charm was back, the writing sharp, the quests imaginative. The gameplay was engaging and branched in a variety of directions, the gunplay was solid, and the atmosphere immersive. I of course love the first two games in the series—but New Vegas combines everything I like in gaming into one package. (As a note, I own the Outer Worlds, and am looking forward to digging into it. Consider this item on the list a recommendation of other Obsidian games—like Knights of the Old Republic Two—regardless of genre, as I’ve found them universally to be superior to their contemporaries.)

#7 Super Mario World

When I was eleven, I flew (alone, which was very exciting to me) from Nebraska to visit my uncle Devon in Salt Lake City. Before I left, my father gave me $200 and told me to pay for my own meals while on the trip—but of course, my uncle didn’t allow this. At the end of the trip, I tried to give him the money, which he wouldn’t take.I mentioned my dad would take the money back when I got home, but that was okay. Well, my uncle would have none of that, and drove me to the local mall and made me spend it on a Nintendo Entertainment System. (This uncle, you might guess, is an awesome human being.)Since that day of first plugging it in and experiencing Mario for the first time, I was hooked. This is the only platformer on the list, as I don’t love those. But one makes an exception for Mario. There’s just so much polish, so much elegance to the control schemes, that even a guy who prefers an FPS or an RPG like me has to admit these are great games. I picked World as my favorite as it’s the one I’ve gone back to and played the most.

#7: The Curse of Monkey Island (Monkey Island 3)

I kind of miss the golden age of adventure gaming, and I don’t know that anyone ever got it as right as they did with this game. It is the pinnacle of the genre, in my opinion—no offense to Grim Fandango fans.This game came out right before gaming’s awkward teenage phase where everything moved to 3-d polygons. For a while after, games looked pretty bad, though they could do more because of the swap. But if you want to go see what life was like before that change, play Monkey Island 3. Composed of beautiful art pieces that look like cells from Disney movies, with streamlined controls (the genre had come a long way from “Get yon torch”) and fantastic voice acting, this game still plays really well.This is one of the few games I’ve been able to get my non-gamer wife to play through with me, and it worked really well as a co-op game with the two of us trying to talk through problems. It’s a lovingly crafted time capsule of a previous era of gaming, and if you missed it, it’s really worth trying all these years later. (The first and second games hold up surprisingly well too, as a note, particularly with the redone art that came out a decade or so ago.)Also, again, this one has my kind of humor.

#6: Breath of the Wild

I never thought a Zelda game would unseat A Link to the Past as my favorite Zelda, but Breath of the Wild managed it. It combined the magic of classic gameplay with modern design aesthetic, and I loved this game.There’s not a lot to say about it that others haven’t said before, but I particularly liked how it took the elements of the previous games in the series (giving you specific tools to beat specific challenges) and let you have them all at once. I like how the dungeons became little mini puzzles to beat, instead of (sometimes seemingly endless) slogs to get through. I liked the exploration, the fluidity of the controls, and the use of a non-linear narrative in flashbacks. It’s worth buying a Switch just to play this one and Mario—but in case you want, you can also play Dark Souls on Switch... (That’s foreshadowing.)

#5: Halo 2

Telling stories about Halo Two on stream is what made me think of writing this list.I’m sometimes surprised that this game isn’t talked about as much as I think it should be. Granted, the franchise is very popular—but people tend to love either Reach or games 1 or 3 more than two. Two, however, is the only one I ever wanted to replay—and I’ve done so three or four times at this point. (It’s also the only one I ever beat on Legendary.)It’s made me think on why I love this one, while so many others seem to just consider it one of many in a strong—but in many ways unexceptional—series of games. I think part of this is because I focus primarily on the single-player aspects of a game (which is why there aren’t any MMOs on this list.) Others prefer Halo games with more balanced/polished multiplayer. But I like to game by myself, and don’t really look for a multiplayer experience. (Though this is changing as I game with my sons more and more.)I really like good writing—which I suppose you’d expect. But in games, I specifically prefer writing that enhances the style of game I’m playing. Just dumping a bunch of story on me isn’t enough; it has to be suited to the gameplay and the feel of the game. In that context, I’ve rarely encountered writing as good as Halo 2. From the opening—with the intercutting and juxtaposition of the two narratives—to the quotes barked out by the marines, the writing in this game is great. It stands out starkly against other Halo games, to the point that I wonder what the difference is.Yes, Halo Two is a bombastic hero fantasy about a super soldier stomping aliens. But it has subtle, yet powerful worldbuilding sprinkled all through it—and the music...it does things with the story that I envy. It’s kind of cheating that games and films get to have powerful scores to help with mood.The guns in Two feel so much better than Halo One, and the vehicles drive far better. The only complaint I have is that it’s only half a story—as in, Halo 2 and 3 seem like they were one game broken in two pieces. And while 3 is good (and Reach does something different, which I approve of in general) neither did it for me the way Two did, and continues to do.

#3: Final Fantasy X

You probably knew Final Fantasy was coming. People often ask if the way these games handle magic was an influence upon me. All I can say is that I’ve played them since the first one, and so they’re bound to have had an influence.On one hand, these games are really strange. I mean, I don’t think we gamers stop quite often enough to note how downright bizarre this series gets. Final Fantasy doesn’t always make the most sense—but the games are always ambitious.Ten is my favorite for a couple of reasons. I felt like the worldbuilding was among the strongest, and I really connected with the characters. That’s strange, because this is one of the FF games without an angst-filled teen as the protagonist. Instead, it has a kind of stable happy-go-lucky jock as the protagonist.But that’s what I needed, right then. A game that didn’t give me the same old protagonist, but instead gave me someone new and showed me I could bond to them just as well. Ten was the first with full voice acting, and that jump added a lot for me. It has my favorite music of the series, and all together is what I consider the perfect final fantasy game. (Though admittedly, I find it more and more difficult to get into turn-based battle mechanics as I grow older.)

#2: Bloodborne

Those who follow my streams, or who read other interviews I’ve done, probably expected this series to be at or near the top. The question wasn’t whether Souls would be here, but which one to pick as my favorite.I went with Bloodborne, though it could have been any of them. (Even Dark Souls 2—which I really like, despite its reputation in the fandom.) I’ve been following FromSoftware’s games since the King’s Field games, and Demon’s Souls was a huge triumph—with the director Hidetaka Miyazaki deserving much of the praise for its design, and Dark Souls (which is really just a more polished version of Demon’s Souls).As I am a fan of cosmic horror, Bloodborne is probably my favorite overall. It really hit the mix of cosmic and gothic horror perfectly. It forced me to change up my gameplay from the other Souls games, and I loved the beautiful visuals.I am a fan of hard games—but I like hard games that are what I consider “fair.” (For example, I don’t love those impossible fan-made Mario levels, or many of the super-crazy “bullet hell”-style games.) Dark Souls is a different kind of hard. Difficult like a stern instructor, expecting you to learn—but giving you the tools to do so. It presents a challenge, rather than being hard just to be hard.If I have a problem with Final Fantasy, it’s that the games sometimes feel like the gameplay is an afterthought to telling the story. But in the Souls games, story and gameplay are intermixed in a way I’d never seen done before. You have to construct the story like an archeologist, using dialogue and lore from descriptions of in-game objects. I find this fascinating; the series tells stories in a way a book never could. I’m always glad when a game series can show off the specific strengths of the medium.In fact, this series would be #1 except for the little fact that I have way too much time on Steam logged playing...

#1: Civilization VI

This series had to take #1 by sheer weight of gameplay time. I discovered the first on a friend’s computer in the dorms my freshman year—and I can still remember the feeling of the birds chirping outside, realizing I’d been playing all night and really should get back to my own dorm room.That still happens, and has happened, with every game in the series. I have a lot of thoughts on this series, many of them granular and too specific for this list. (Like, it’s obvious AI technology isn’t up to the task of playing a game this complex—so could we instead get a roguelike set of modifiers, game modes, etc. to liven up the games, rather than just having a difficulty slider that changes a few simple aspects of the game?)I’ll try not to rant, because I really do love this game series. A lot of people consider IV to be the pinnacle of the series, but after V unstacked units—and VI unstacked cities—there was no way I could ever go back. If for some reason, you’ve never played this grand patriarch of the 4X game genre, it’s about starting with a single stone-age settler who can found a city—then playing through eras of a civilization, growing your empire, to try to eventually get offworld with a space program. (Or, if you prefer, conquering the world.)It’s a load of fun in the way I like to have fun, and I feel like the series has only gotten better over the years. My hat is off to the developers, who keep reinventing the series, rather than making the exact same game over and over.Now, about that request for difficulty modes...

there are runner ups but for the sake of anyone whos on mobile and cant get past a read more (first of all omg im SO sorry) ill refrain. anyway he thought WHAT loz game was the best before botw?

#mix between HARDCORE judgement and like. yea. yea ff10 was pretty good wasnt it #but i dont think its anywhere near the best of them #long post #im read mores dont work imm so fucking sorry this is so long #MOST of these games are good its just so wild its so wild its SO wild #asks #Anonymous

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