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legacygirlingreen · 8 months

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Part 4 - Chapter 4: A Reckoning // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Authors Note: Next chapter is up and I apologize in advance for it being more along the lines of filler, I PROMISE next chapter the action is going to be at the forefront, it just needed to be set up. Thanks to everyone who continues to read and support. I truly appreciate you all. Special love and thanks again to @strawberrypinky, 💚.

If you’re new the Masterlist can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/legacygirlingreen/713709759369560064/part-1-becoming-a-proper-gentlemen?source=share

link to audio section from chapter found here

word count: 7,000

warnings: slight mentions of blood, violence, child abuse

When they finally arrived in the hospital wing, Aesop was glad to finally have a place to set the injured girl. He’s sure that to Matilda, Nurse Blainey, Fig and the others standing nearby they were a sight for sore eyes. His jacket wrapped around her wounded frame in a crude attempt to veil her modesty, the deep cut going down her face leaving her covered in her own blood, and his own aggravated limp very apparent as he carried her towards the closest available bed.

“Heavens! Is she even still alive, Aesop?” Professor Weasley asked, rushing to the bedside along with the school nurse looking down at the severely injured young woman. The unpleasant groan that left her lips as she was set down, causing everyone to cringe.

“Yes she is. Someone will need to fetch Officer Singer.” he said, moving himself to sit on the bed next to her, the pain in his own leg suddenly becoming too much for him to bear.

“Officer Singer? Why?” Professor Ronen said coming closer as the majority of the Hogwarts professors piled in after them. Sensing it would be a while before anyone would be able to treat Poppy’s small scrapes, Professor Garlick turned towards the hufflepuff saying “let’s get you all fixed up sweetheart, I imagine it will be a while before the nurse can see you”, before steering Poppy to a bed at the far end of the ward.

“Because she managed to take down Victor Rookwood. He is dead.” he explained with an exasperated sigh. Running a hand over his face, he tried not to let the frustration at the situation show. Knowing the world was now rid of such a horrible dark wizard was a good thing, but to know it took a student to do so, no less after being tortured nearly to death didn’t sit right with him. He won’t lie, he was still extremely impressed that she had managed to fight him at all, given her condition, let alone successfully. Watching how she was able to repel the killing curse, using some form of magic he’d never seen to send the curse back into the man, thus bringing his reign of terror effectively to an end. The gasps that filled the room at the knowledge that she had won a duel against one of the most notorious criminals of their time, as a student with little experience within the magical world, confused many.

“Merlin… why did he take her?” Professor Hecat questioned coming closer to inspect the girl, who was now finally having Nurse Blainey tend to her wounds as the woman forced a potion down her throat.

“It’s a long story.” Sharp said, finally having caught his breath enough to stand again. He took one last look at the young woman, beaten like a rag doll but somehow still alive. Bending down he placed a hand on hers, squeezing it gently to let her know he was still there before moving back.

With that Nurse Blainey quickly drew curtains around her bedside, giving them some privacy as she removed the professor's jacket to see the damage inflicted on the young girl. Rushing around she asked the house elf she kept as an assistant to grab potions of various varieties in a hushed voice as she tended to her.

Y/n tried to keep her pained noises to a minimum, in order to listen in on what the others were saying. The first thing the matron had done when she arrived was force a potion to keep her alert, not knowing if she had a concussion and not wanting her to fall asleep if she did. From there she was stripped of the professor's jacket, along with the tattered camisole she wore, as the nurse brought forth a large bandage to quickly tend to the cuts along her chest before covering her breasts in case anyone came to look. Nurse Blainey, with the assistance of a house elf, helped raise her to sitting upright in order to assess the damage done to her back, as well as fasten the bandage around her so it would stay in place, before moving along to see the damage done to her face.

As the teachers discussed what had happened they almost didn’t realize that young Anne Sallow had gotten up from her bedside, looking stronger than she had in over a year, until they heard someone ask “so she is alive?” from behind them.

They all quickly turned around, recognizing her as Professor Sharp looked back to the bed in the corner, seeing the sheets back, along with two seats occupied nearby her bed. He had expected Ominis Gaunt their friend, as well as Sebastian her brother, but when he realized her twin was absent and in the place he assumed the Slytherin would be, instead was her Uncle, his blood boiled over.

“YOU!” Never since the accident that cost him his job, his health and a majority of his happiness had Aesop Sharp moved so quickly. It wasn’t but a few moments before he was standing directly in front of Solomon Sallow, his bloodied hands around the man’s shirt collar, pulling him from the chair. Sallow’s eyes barely came to his chin when resting but as he was aggressively pulled up by the ex Auror, Solomon was forced onto his toes.

“Aesop!” Professor Weasley shouted behind him and as he neglected to care about the audience in which they had collected.

“I knew you were a vile piece of scum Sallow, but this, this is a new low even for you” he yelled in the man's face as confusion filled the room. Aesop took to shaking the man's collar as he illustrated the point.

“Aesop calm down! Release Mr. Sallow” Professor Weasley continued to attempt to shout from behind him and he temporarily took a step back, dropping the man but keeping him close.

With the shouting and uproar, professor Ronen quietly encouraged Ominis to escort Anne out of the room, at least until they could discuss what had happened, and the blind boy obliged, taking Anne out of the ward. He was used to removing Anne at this rate from loud outbursts involving Solomon Sallow, only this time he was unsure the extent as to why a professor was angry with their uncle…

“Aesop, what is all this about?” Fig called out, attempting to alleviate the situation. He himself had witnessed the poor side of the man first hand, but was unsure the depth of how bad the situation they all found themselves in ran. The outburst called him to abandon the care of his protege who was quickly being patched up despite the large variety of flesh wounds she had sustained - the worst of which being the scar forming over her right eye - along with cuts on her back. The bloodied word carved into her skin, noticed by Nurse Blainey at the removal of the jacket, made the matron nauseous… it was evident the torture she had endured before she’d been rescued.

“He let poachers take her, and not once bothered to contact proper authorities. Not once did he try to help her. That girl would've died if we hadn’t arrived a moment later than we did. He just stood by, let Feldcroft burn to the ground without protecting it. He knowingly would have let her die to cover his own ass.” Sharp shouted, angry that it was him who had to go rescue the girl, frustrated that someone he worked with would allow a girl to be hurt, that he was not bothered as to the state of the girl at all. It angered him even more to know that he did so to a woman with whom his own Nephew shared relations.

“What would you have him do Sharp? He was here with Anne-” Matilda started yet was interrupted by Poppy, finally having her small scrapes attended, she spoke in place of the angry professor.

“He knew about the curse that afflicted Anne. He knew it was Rookwood. He didn’t try and tell the authorities because he was being threatened.” she explained as loud gasps filled the room. Solomon Sallow looked down, having realized he had finally been made, for allowing the curse to afflict his niece for so long.

“Miss Sweeting you know the gravity of that accusation I presume” Professor Hecat explained as Poppy nodded.

Hearing the commotion, Nurse Blainey pulled back the curtains, finally showing that y/n was awake. She had been listening, only briefly mentioning to the girl that while most of her injuries were recoverable considering they were bruises or flesh wounds, that unfortunately most of her scars would remain. Other than rest and some pain relieving potions there wasn’t much else she could do. With that she simply conjured a simple shirt to cover her before allowing her to rejoin their angered discussion.

She looked beaten to hell and back, but she would be okay. The nurse, having picked up on the conversation, walked over to her desk, retrieving the notebook discovered by Poppy and handing it to Professor Weasley.

“Poppy brought this from the camp when she initially brought Ms. Sallow. It is directly from Victor Rookwood’s desk. I believe a few pages will be… illuminating…” Professor Weasley flipped through a few pages, finding detailed descriptions of the curse, as well as conversations mentioned between Solomon and Rookwood.

“This is… troubling.” Matilda said, passing it off to Hecat who took a look.

“That is not all… according to Miss. y/l/n -” Sharp started, wanting to recount what she had told him when he rescued her but he was cut off by a strangled voice in the corner.

“He meant for it to be Sebastian.” The injured girl said, sitting at the edge of the bed, looking much more menacing now with the large scar across her face and the look of murder in her eye. Only revealed to her midst the argument by Nurse Blainey, that Rookwood laced the blade he used on her with something in order to leave behind scars, thus giving her a scabbed but healing wound that went from across the top of her eyebrow to near her nose, thankfully missing her actual eye, as well as some miscellaneous cuts along her chest and the word in which Victor had carved in her back. She had yet to see any of them herself, but as everyone looked at her, they felt her anger pointed directly to Solomon. The man shivered seeing the pure, and unaltered vexation she wore on her marred face.

She didn’t stop there, against every part of her body screaming to stay down and finally rest, she found the strength to stand up, stalking her way over to her beloved’s guardian. As she yelled the best she could with her failing voice.

“You knew Rookwood was going to curse one of the twins, and you agreed to let him do it, offering up Sebastian as a sacrifice for your misdeed,” she said, attempting to move closer when Professor Fig intercepted her, holding her back from the man, who ironically was cowering at her outburst. The former auror, the man who so openly would yell at and even sometimes assault Sebastian now cowering because of her no less. Fig spoke in a hushed tone trying to calm her as tears took to her face. The room fell silent as the professors looked between the young woman and Solomon, knowing she cared a great deal for Sebastian. The news alone disturbing them all, but they could hardly imagine her state of mind at discovering her beloved’s own guardian meant for him to take such a horrible fate.

“Why him?” she quietly questioned as Fig successfully calmed her down enough from anger. Solomon looked at her without much of an explanation, before simply sighing.

“I know you care for him… I care for him… he’s my nephew… but you have no clue what he was like before you came around… he truly was as reckless and stubborn as my-” Solomon started to speak but was so rudely interrupted when a fist met the side of his face. And then his chest. Followed closely by a kick to the groin.

No one said a word as y/n broke free from Fig, marching directly to Sebastian’s guardian, and repeatedly using muggle forms of violence against the man all the while shouting a single word through each punch she delivered. “Don’t. You. Dare. Speak. Of. Him. That. Way. You. Foul. Rotten. Git. Of. A. Man.”

Ultimately it was Professor Sharp who pulled the young woman, still kicking and screaming, off of Solomon despite his desire to let her continue.

The shock of the injured girl beating the Sallow Twin’s guardian and only surviving family to a pulp stunned the room, with the exception of Poppy and Professor Sharp. As he held the girl, whispering for her to calm down directly into her ear they all felt the castle begin to shake.

“Godrick’s heart!” Fig cried out as everyone looked around confused.

“Mr. Moon! Go collect the students and escort them all into the Great Hall. Wait there with professors Shah, Howin, Kogawa and Scribner. Everyone else we need to investigate what is going on” Matilda started to try and direct everyone’s attention as y/n stopped them all.

“It’s Ranrok, he’s drilling under the school, he is trying to get to a repository of Ancient Magic” she explained as the bewilderment took over.

“I certainly do not follow Miss y/l/n” Weasley explained and Fig took the time to explain very briefly that she in fact could see ancient forms of magic and had been attempting to put a stop to the goblin rebellion all year.

In the commotion Solomon Sallow was almost to the hospital door, and was intercepted by Abraham Ronan who simply offered an awkward smile while using his body to block the man’s attempt at an exit.

“Well this is all quite… disturbing and we will be discussing this later professor Fig. But you can’t possibly imagine I will allow you to march a student into battle, one who was very recently gravely injured” she said, annoyed that Fig would even suggest such.

“Professor… no one else can see what I can. If there’s any hope of stopping Ranrok, I am the only one who will be able to…” she quietly said, looking around seemingly looking for something.

“I can’t-” Matilda started but she was cut off by the student.

“It’s her choice, Matilda. Besides, we can protect her as we go.” Sharp explained as he heard a loud cry coming from the hallway.

“Let me through- where is he? Aesop?!” a voice called out from the hallway, pushing past the others as a short, red headed woman came bounding in, out of breath and very much pregnant.

“Becca? Oh Rebecca.” He called out, rushing to meet her as she flung herself into his arms.

“You’re alive. Oh thank Merlin. I got your owl and you hadn’t come home yet and I was so worried-” she cried out as he held her face in his large hands, stroking her hair down as he whispered against her skin.

“Shhh.. I am so sorry to have worried you, my love. I am alright. But I need you to wait here where it is safe.” he explained and she looked up to him as if they were the only two in the room.

“What’s happening?” She asked in confusion, pulling the tie from his hair, letting it fall back around his face as she combed it down.

“Goblins, attacking the school. Please promise me you will stay here while I and the other professors handle it.” He said sternly as he lightly gripped her stomach, happy to feel the light kicking.

“Aesop… that sounds dangerous…” she said looking scared as he continued to try and force her to look up at him.

“Becca please, the safety of every student in the castle is my responsibility.” He said with a frustrated sigh. And she nodded understanding his heroics were something despite retired from being an auror, would never go away. She attempted to speak but he did not let her as she tried to calm her frayed nerves by fixing his hair.

“And don’t even suggest going down there with me. I need to know you and the baby are safe.” He explained, still stroking her stomach.

“But-“ once again Mrs. Sharp tried to argue with her husband but he reached down, grabbing her waist and pulled her close as he bent his head down to her short stature planting his mouth on hers as the others turned away abruptly.

“It is going to be okay. I won’t be alone.” Aesop whispered to her trying to calm his wife’s nerves. She only nodded knowing there was no use in arguing with him. Instead she reached around her wrist, removing one of the bands she usually kept for her own hair, and started pulling his dark hair back from around his face so he wouldn’t have to fret over it in battle.

“Please come back, Aesop.” She whispered as he once again placed his mouth in hers, pulling away with a determined look on his face.

“It’ll all be fine I assure you,” Sharp looked over his wife’s shoulder, letting them fall to Solomon Sallow still attempting to escape the hospital ward and he got a bright idea when he saw the man.

“Sallow, care to join us?” he asked, not really issuing it as a genuine question, but giving the gentleman the ability to seem nobel regardless.

“I -” Solomon started, stuttering as he attempted to think of a reason as to why he couldn’t. He was instead met with a delicate hand pushing his shoulder. He looked down to once again see the girl standing at his side and he shuddered remembering how it felt to have her fist smash into the side of his face.

“As an Ex-Auror myself I cannot possibly fathom how one wouldn’t gladly jump at the chance to protect school children… especially considering they would likely face the ministry for conspiracy with a criminal if they didn’t.” Sharp levied. This caused Solomon’s face to turn into a frown realizing what Sharp was attempting to do.

“Are you threatening me, Sharp?” Solomon asked through an angered breath.

“I wouldn’t call it a threat, moreso just… putting things into perspective, Sallow.” Sharp explained, as if it was any consolation prize. Regardless of if the man helped or not, he still had every intention of marching him to officer Singer to at the very least have his wand snapped for his actions.

“It doesn’t really sound like I have much of a choice. And what would you do if I simply attempted to walk out of here?” Solomon moved again and she pressed her wand into his rib cage.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. See, that is a threat.” she explained with an annoyed sigh. Looking around she noticed most of the professors had abandoned their posts and were rushing about to situate the school before going into battle. She looked for Professor Fig realizing he too had left, leaving her and Sharp alone with Solomon in the hospital wing.

Before anyone could continue their terce conversation Ominis strolled back in, dragging Anne Sallow in behind him as he pointed his wand around looking for an explanation. Abandoning her post of guarding Mr. Sallow she moved closer to Anne. Tossing her arms around the girl she hugged Anne to her.

“I am so glad you are alright” she explained, glad to see the girl finally recovering after over a year of being inflicted with a curse. She decided at that moment she would later discuss with Sebastian about the discovery of Solomon’s betrayal, before bringing it up to Anne. Now was not the time to dump harsh truths on the recovering girl.

“Me?! You were kidnapped by Victor Rookwood, I am just glad you are alive” Anne said, hugging the girl close, thankful for her sacrifice but guilty it led to such a horrible place nonetheless. They separated for a moment, allowing Anne to finally see the damage inflicted upon her.

“Oh y/n…” she sighed, her slender fingers tracing over the forming scar over her face as she felt horrid seeing the woman her brother loved so dearly, injured all in her name.

“This is not your fault. I went into that camp knowing the risks. I am just glad Poppy managed to escape with the journal and you when she did. Scars are hardly anything to concern yourself with.” She explained, hoping to alleviate Anne’s concerns, despite deep down being terrified of how she looked. Worried that based on Anne’s reaction, possibly Sebastian too would no longer find her as fair as he once had. She hardly had time to worry about that now.

“But -” Anne started when she hushed the girl, placing her arms back around her. Looking over she saw Professor Sharp still attempting to alleviate the concerns of his wife.

“Anne, I need you to stay here. You are still quite weak and this is far from where the goblins should be. Ominis?” She asked, turning to their companion. The boy, so often ridged, softened at the tone of her voice. She stepped closer to him.

“Yes?” he asked as his unseeing eyes gazed at her. She found comfort knowing at the very least he could not treat her differently in his body language towards her. Ever since she had made it back to the castle she already could tell a difference in how people reacted to her, probably concerned at the injuries she bore. She knew going forward Ominis would be someone who, unable to see her changes, would not treat her differently. She sought solace in that thought.

“Do you know where Sebastian is? No one has seen him…” she said, concerned she was about to march into battle yet again, without being able to put her eyes on him, nor tell him how dearly she adored him.

“He was with Professor Fig last I heard. Running an errand to the town. He still hasn’t even seen Anne I am afraid.” Ominis said sadly, head bowed as he realized based on the drop in her voice she was unsure how dangerous this battle was to be.

“Shall I convey a message if I see him?” Ominis asked after a beat of silence.

“Just, - no. I will tell him myself. Please make sure Anne will be okay and stay out of sight if for some reason we cannot subdue Ranrok.” she explained, stepping forward and hugging him briefly. He hardly had time to force himself to relax before she stepped away repeating the action for Anne. She didn’t give either of them a moment to respond, as she walked away, hating that it felt an awful lot like a ‘goodbye’ and not a ‘see you later.

She returned to the professor’s side, as he gave his wife one last embrace before reaching down for her wand, transfiguring the plain clothes the nurse had given her, back into something slightly more fitting for battle. The dark leather and linen wrapped around her body and she stood, ready to face whatever may come.

“Uncle Solomon?” Anne asked meekly from the bed Ominis had made her relax back into. Everyone’s head turned to see what the girl wanted.

“Yes Anne.” He said with a sigh.

“Please keep her safe.” she expressed, wanting her guardian to help do his best to protect the girl on their way down to face the goblins. Solomon’s eyes went wide realizing what she asked, and that no one had told the girl what he had done. He simply nodded before responding.

“I will do everything I can to keep Ms. y/l/n safe,” he said sternly. While she was unsure the man meant it, to be honest she highly doubted it, he played the role well regardless.

“Where exactly are we headed?” Professor Sharp asked and she sighed.

“Professor Fig and I call it the map chamber, it's in the dungeon.” she explained, moving towards the stairwell, to escort the potions master and her lover’s guardian down to face the goblins in hopes wherever Eleazar had gotten off to, he would join them soon enough.

Sebastian took the Floo network, hoping it would be faster. He had been so tense he had nearly snapped at the wandmaker, who despite the challenge, seemed genuinely excited about the wand and its construction. Under normal circumstances he too would’ve been intrigued, ever the scholar himself, but these weren’t as such.

As he reappeared in the school's hallways, just outside the professor's door he was startled to feel the castle shaking. Why couldn’t he just get a break from all the chaos?

Just as he was about to head off in search of what was happening professor Fig reimerged from his classroom, relieved to see Sebastian.

“Ah Mr. Sallow, I presume Mr. Olivander was able to complete what we needed” he explained, reaching for the wand as Sebastian handed it over.

“Yes he did. What’s happening? Where is everyone? Is Professor Sharp back from the camp? Is she alive?” Sebastian allowed his questions to fall from his lips rather quickly as the older man looked at him sympathetically.

“She’s alive. She will be okay. I will say, it was quite disturbing the state she came back in, but regardless I think she is doing the best she can… as for what is happening, Ranrok is drilling under the school attempting to access the map chamber. We don't have much time. I need to take this wand-” Fig started to explain as Professor Weasley came bounding around the corner with Madam Scribner.

“Eleazar we must hurry! All the students have been escorted to the great hall where- Mr. Sallow? What are you doing here? You are supposed to be with the other students. I must insist you report to the great hall immediately.” She explained, reaching for the Slytherin boy by his tattered robes, pushing him towards the Librarian to head off to the great hall.

“But-” he started with the librarian cutting him off.

“Now Mr. Sallow. All students are to report to the Great Hall for their own safety. I won’t have any arguments.” she explained pushing him down the hall despite his attempts to look back over his shoulder at Professor’s Fig and Weasley.

“Professor Fig please” he begged, hoping the man would allow him to come, to help, to be reunited. Looking down sadly he shook his head.

“I am sorry Sebastian but she wouldn’t want you anywhere near it. Thank you for retrieving the wand, but please, for your own safety stay put until this is all over.” the man spoke, ashamed to have to prevent the young man from being reunited, yet doing it for his safety nonetheless.

“No, you don’t understand I need to see her. I can’t live with myself if she dies down there, and I haven’t said goodbye. I love her. Please-” he started but Fig simply looked at him one last time before apparating away with Professor Weasley leaving him with Madam Scribner.

“Mr. Sallow, please refrain from doing anything irrational.” the librarian spoke and Sebastian debated his chances of escape. He knew his skills with a wand far likely exceeded hers, if he was fast enough perhaps he could slip past her, take the floo network to the dungeon and -

Petrificus Totalus.

“I am sorry Sebastian.” Scribner said, actually sounding sympathetic to him, as he laid immobile on the floor of the hallway. Sebastian could feel her attempting to levitate his frozen body and internally he screamed to be released, that this wasn’t fair, that he wouldn’t accept his fate of being locked away with other students while she marched into battle alone.

Yet all he could do was sit there, frozen, as a single tear slipped down his face, his eyes unmoving as he was moved to join the rest of the students in the Great Hall amidst the goblin attack.

“How much further are we going?” Solomon asked, out of breath from all the stairs they were maneuvering down.

She elected to ignore him, annoyed he even felt so uncomfortable as to complain. She didn’t bother letting him know that it was merely down a few more stairs. They rounded the flight that led into the open cavern, giving way to the final bit of stairs, before coming to stand in the long elegant hallway that went into the map chamber. The quick change in architecture from normal stones, to elegant blue and bronze making the potions professor look around in awe.

“If it’s not destroyed in the goblin attack you should come down here and sketch it sometime” she said to Professor Sharp, hoping to alleviate the tension they were all feeling.

“And why would I do that?” he asked, shocked she knew of his hobby. Unbothered, the girl turned to him with a small smile.

“I found your drawing room exploring the castle. I’d apologize for snooping but truly Mr. Moon is to blame for teaching me alohomora and sending me after those Demiguise statutes… regardless, your art is quite lovely.” she said.

“Snooping around in a professor's private chambers is quite serious. The amount of house points you ought to lose -” he explained, frustrated the student felt so inclined to go into his chambers appalling him.

“I hardly think house points matter at the moment but if you feel so strongly when this is over I will take however many detentions you see fit Professor Sharp. Regardless, I still think your art is magnificent.” She explained, pushing open the doors to the map chamber, stepping inside with the two men following behind her. They stood to the side watching as she ran towards the portraits.

“Oh thank Merlin, it is so wonderful to see you are alive” Professor Rackham explained, glad to see her return and not Sebastian.

“I am alright, professor. We must hurry. Where is the final trial?” she asked, ready to rush through one last trial in order to gain access to the final repository.

“It has already been completed. We are simply waiting on Professor Fig and the boy to return-” San Bakar started, confounding her as she had not even attempted the final trial, just as Eleazar strolled in quickly, holding out a wand box as he moved across the main floor.

“Mr. Sallow returned the wand-” Fig began, only to be interrupted by her.

“Sebastian? Where is he? What do you mean the fourth trial has been completed?” she explained, looking over the man's shoulders hoping to see his handsome face strolling into the chamber but she was met with Eleazar’s stoic expression.

“While you were captured, your love took it upon himself to complete the final trial in your absence. Given the circumstances we allowed an exception. He was successful and in doing so, granting access to the final artifact, in which he brought to a wandmaker to construct the key to the final repository” Niham explained, looking down at the girl with a soft gaze.

“Sebastian, he -” she looked around confounded how he would even be able to attempt such a task.

“He is safe with the other students in the great hall, but he valiantly faced the final trial so you wouldn’t have to.” Fig explained, setting the wand in her hand.

“You mean to tell me that my nephew was here? That he neglected his sister’s side for what, some trial?” Solomon asked, reminding everyone in the room of his presence.

“Need I remind you Sallow, he hardly would’ve had to, if you hadn’t allowed that girl to be taken by Rookwood for so long.” Sharp hissed out, effectively cutting the conversation short. Another loud rumble shook the castle as she looked at the portraits.

“Victor said that the final repository is below the school, and that Ranrok knows of its location.” she explained and they nodded, indicating for everyone to step back. Doing so, the floor disappeared, as stairs emerged to a doorway below the map.

“The final repository is here. Protect it. And once the goblins have been subdued we shall begin instructing you how to effectively wield this magic. You are to only contain it. Do you understand?” They asked. She thought for a moment. What she had seen, how Isadora had used it to heal her fathers pain. A small part of her wanted to take it, wield it and save Anne, assuming that the journal had failed. She sighed, realizing if contained she could always come back for it later…

“Of course. I will guard it with my life.” she explained, starting down the stairs with the professors and Solomon.

Once the large doors opened, the four stepped inside, following the cavern as the castle began to shake around them.

“Sebastian” Poppy Sweeting said as the spell was dropped and he could finally move his limbs again. The Librarian had set him at the back of the Great Hall on the floor, after moving his immobile body through the castle.

He sat up, rubbing his head before discarding his torn school robes. He looked around and saw several other students in his year: Natsi, Garreth, Everett, Leander, Imelda, Samantha and the Hufflepuff directly in front of his face. He groaned, frustrated that he hadn’t been successful and now he found himself locked inside the hall with the rest of the students as the castle shook. Sebastian quickly noted the absence of his sister and Ominis, but figured they were still in the hospital wing.

Cries were coming from various spots around the room as the first years, seemed distraught as some of the professors and upper class students attempted to console them at the disturbing noises and shaking.

“Poppy what happened?” he asked, attempting not to be stern with the girl, but his patience for the situation growing thin.

“I am sorry Sebastian, I truly am… she was insistent upon going into that camp for Anne. Then even more insistent I leave to go warn Anne and Solomon, to escape with the journal.” Poppy explained, looking down at her hands as Sebastian sighed.

“It’s alright. We can discuss it later. I would, however, like to get out of here.” He explained, picking himself up off the floor.

“That’ll be hard to do, as the professor’s have charmed the door. My aunt did it herself before leaving with some of the faculty. It’s going to take a lot of magic to undo those charms, and we’d likely get caught before we can mutter the spells.” Garreth explained.

“Surely there’s a way to get out of here.” Sebastian had hoped that perhaps in the chaos he’d be able to slip away.

“What would we do even if we were successful?” Imelda asked, coming closer to join Poppy.

“Help her. She went down there with professor Fig. I haven’t much time to explain it, but she’s - she’s not like us. She can see magic that we can’t. I have seen her wield it. It is a very powerful, ancient magic that Ranrok is after. If he gets a hold of it, I fear we may all suffer.” he explained as everyone quietly observed.

“But we are just students, you can’t expect us to be able to stop a goblin rebellion” Samantha Dale spoke, frustrating him.

“Did she not help save your brother Samantha?” he asked sharply, turning towards the others.

“Or help you discover astronomy tables all over the highlands when you are too frightened to go alone Amit? What about beating your flying records Imelda? Or stealing things for your brews Garreth? Hell, she even helped Leander by rounding up his escaped chinese chomping cabbages. My point is that she has spent all year helping each and every one of us. What has she ever asked for in return?” He spoke and they all went sullen, realizing that the new 5th year had gone above and beyond in helping everyone, without ever expecting a return on her kindness.

“Hell, she’s spent so much time trying to do the right thing in order to satiate your moral fiber Natty or help you rescue magical creatures Poppy. I am not without blame in exhausting her either. I'm afraid by constantly going on about a cure for Anne… When she left the school yesterday she was leaving to help centaurs and wound up captured by Rookwood. I haven't a clue how bad it was but Poppy -'' he started once again and the poor Hufflepuff girl wracked with enough guilt to last the remainder of their school year looked solemnly at the group and shook her head as if to say ‘it was awful’.

“Regardless, we owe it to her. She has stretched herself parchment thin, and I’ll be damned if she dies down there alone, without aid and out of exhaustion. You can either come with me, or just help me get out of here, but please don’t let her go through this alone.” Sebastian said.

He turned to Poppy, gesturing to the girl while saying “we would be the most unloyal friends to sit idly by…” before looking at Amit and Samantha and continuing his train of thought. “And the most unintelligent classmates if we can’t find a way out of here”. He then turned to the bulk of their group mates clad in red, “We would be companions who lack the bravery she needs” and then lastly looking to himself and Imelda finally acknowledging his role; “not to mention unfit housemates to be called resourceful, if we haven’t the heart to help when we know we know that power is within us”.

“Sebastian is right. She deserves as much help as she can get.” Natty spoke, drawing a thankful nod from him.

“Look I am all for helping I suppose, but how exactly are we getting out of here to even go help? We wouldn’t know where to go even if we did get out to help” Leander spoke and the boy's easy dismissal frustrated Sebastian. Of course Leander would try and weasel out of helping. How the boy was Gryffindor when he lacked any form of bravery in Sebastian’s eyes, he’d never know.

“I think I may know where they are coming in from” Imelda spoke as the group turned towards her. “Behind the quidditch pitch, and the owlery, there’s a small cave atop the hill. I’ve noticed large machines made from goblin metal, along with many of Ranrok’s loyalists. I warned officer Singer, however I doubt she has done much.” Imelda explained. Thinking of the geography of the castle, Sebastian rationalized that it would make the most sense, as every other side of the castle was surrounded by water, and that would be the only area in which drilling could take place.

“Still doesn’t solve how we are getting out of here, or what we will do when we escape” Leander insisted.

“We can use the brooms. We can sneak around to the front of the school, and borrow the flying class brooms. They aren’t that nice, but I imagine they will suffice. Imelda don’t you still have the key?” Everett asked and she nodded.

“So Imelda and Everett can go snag the brooms. Natty, is there any way you can run by the potions classroom and collect some of the stores from professor Sharps closets? I know he has an abundance of wiggenweld, thunderbrew and invisibility potions because I’ve been making them during detentions. If we are going into battle it may not be the worst idea to come prepared.” Sebastian asked, forming a plan in his mind the best he could.

“That sounds like a great idea. I can meet Imelda and Everett on the lawn when I am finished.” Natty said with a nod.

“I will go Natty, and stop in the greenhouse. I have a few plants that could do some damage that I’ve been tending for Professor garlick” Leander explained and while Sebastian wanted to roll his eyes, the thoughts of his least favorite classmate hurling Chinese chomping cabbages at goblins did sound… interesting.

“We can go by the ravenclaw tower. I have the original schematics for the drills they are using in my dorm room. Samantha, would you like to tag along? You all could pick us up off the roof since we have a rooftop” Amit offered and while Sebastian wanted to question how Amit of all people wound up with Ranroks plans he didn’t question it.

“Alright that leaves Poppy, Garreth, Lucan and I. Poppy, would you mind joining me to stop by and retrieve something in the astronomy wing that might be useful?” Sebastian asked, alluding to the room of requirement and she nodded not giving away what he meant.

“Well we know what we do when we get out of here, but that doesn’t do much good if we can’t leave” Samantha explained frustrated.

“Leave that to me. I’ve been cooking up a brew for quite some time now and I think this is the perfect opportunity to test it out. Want to help me Lucan?” Garreth asked and the younger student nodded.

“So that settles it then. What exactly does this potion entail Weasley? Or what is our cue to leave?” Sebastian asked skeptically.

“Trust me, you’ll know”

To be continued…

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prettylightsbigcity · 2 years

Text

Yours, Always

TW: MCD, cancer, suicide

Losing someone you love feels impossible. In the days after his death, Baz writes a love letter to Simon.

I recently lost someone close to me, and I wrote this pretty soon after they passed. I debated whether or not this was something that I wanted or needed to share, but after sitting with it for some time, I decided to throw it out into the universe. Please read the tags and trigger warnings, and don't read this if you're not in a place to think about the things mentioned. I'm listing some resources below; take care of yourself, friends. Read below, or here on ao3.

***

Dear Simon,

I think I’m disappearing right in front of my own eyes. Most days I get up, go through the motions, speak to people without hearing them, eat without tasting; I am moving through the world like a ghost. I’m a watery impression of myself. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so numb. Do you know what kept me alive in the darkest seasons of my life, Snow? When I first realized what I was, that I would never be the boy my mother had loved again? When the days all bled together into one endless smear of suffering trapped inside a coffin? Do you know what kept me alive? It was you. The knowledge that you existed, somewhere in the world, before you ever spoke to me kindly, before I even dared to hope that you could care for me the way I care for you. Just knowing that you were out there, Simon Snow, gave me a reason to carry on living. Loving you has been at the core of me since before I even understood what I was feeling. Being loved by you has been the greatest honor of my life. We have fought for each other over and over again, and we’ve always won.

But what was the point of it all? The agony and struggle we both endured— not to mention what we put everyone else through— to get here? Everything you did for our world, the trauma and torment and heartache inflicted on you, not just by The Mage (curse his wretched soul), but all of magickal society with the expectations they placed on your shoulders when you were only a child. The Greatest Mage. The Power of Powers. The Chosen One. I know you thought it was all a load of rubbish, but I believed it. I still do. I believe in you, Simon. And after all that, there was nothing any of us could do. I sat in Dr. Wellbelove's office right next to you while he said horrifying things that didn’t make any sense, words like “glioblastoma” and “metastatic” and “terminal” and— and “cancer.” It had likely started somewhere else, he said, spreading to your spine and then finally your brain, which was what brought us in to see him. The headaches. None of us could do a fucking thing; I just sat there in that sterile fucking office, holding your hand, and all the magic in the world couldn’t change anything. Of course, we tried. We had to. Penelope and I coated you with every spell under the sun and a few that hadn’t even existed previously. Nothing changed. You were impenetrable to magic right to the end. It’s just like you to be an absolutely stubborn arse.

It will be your birthday next week, Simon, or at least the day we’ve been calling your birthday for the past nine years. Ten years of loving you. Ten years of choosing us, through every up and down. It wasn’t enough. No amount of time being loved by you could ever be enough for me. I should have savored every moment, but I was a fool. I expected ten more birthdays, and ten after that, until we grew old together, just like we used to talk about. We made so many plans and shared so many dreams. We talked about having kids of our own someday; round-faced, freckled children who looked like you, or maybe children from care who needed a family, just like you did. I know it terrified you, but you would have been the best father, Simon. It frightened me too, but I would have been able to do it with you by my side, I know I would. I think about that imaginary future family often these days, mourning something we never got to have, and now we never will.

I remember last year, when you turned thirty, you joked that it was too late for you to make anything of yourself now. We stayed up late and drank an entire bottle of wine, plotting to make our grand return to America for your fortieth birthday.

“New York,” you said, “and New Orleans, and Los Angeles– we missed all the good stuff last time.”

“We were a little preoccupied with the overwhelming amount of bad stuff last time, Snow,” I told you.

“Think we should go back to Las Vegas and see if we like it any better now?” you asked, grinning like a fool.

“No,” I said, “and I can’t believe you would ever suggest that.”

“It’s the vampire capital of the world, babe,” you said, like I was the one being an idiot.

“Yes, and I prefer to be the only vampire allowed anywhere near you,” I countered, tackling you and pressing you back into our mattress.

You told me I should go on that trip without you, one of those interminable nights when I sat next to your hospital bed with my head resting on your lap. You were running your fingers through my hair, so gently. You barely had the strength to lift your hand. You couldn’t see me by then; the swelling pressing against your optic nerve had taken your vision a week earlier. They tried radiation to reduce it, to try and restore your sight. It hadn’t worked. I stayed even closer to you after that, holding you as much as I could so you would always know where I was, that I was there, that you weren’t alone. You asked me for things, in those quiet, desperate nights. We both knew that time was running out, so you asked me for promises, and I could never deny you. You made me promise to take care of everyone– Penelope and Shepard and their children, my siblings, your Uncle Jaime. I promised to visit Ebb’s grave for you, and Lady Ruth’s. You knew by then that you’d never be able to visit them yourself again. You asked me to promise you that I would go on, that I’d try to be happy, even try to date. As if I would ever feel joy again after you were gone; as if I could ever love anyone else after the way I have loved you. The way I still love you. You are the love of my life, and if a creature like me is capable of having a soul, you’re the love of every life my soul ever has and ever will experience. I never intended to break my word to you, Simon, but the Baz who made those promises still had you. He’s gone now; he died with you.

I’m sorry, Simon. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I’ve never been brave like you. I’m not strong enough to stay here without you. Our families– the ones we were born with and the ones we chose– will survive this, I know they will. They have each other, they won’t be alone. Not like I am, now. You’ve forgiven me so many terrible things in my life, love. I hate to ask you to forgive one more, but I have to. Please, forgive me, Simon. I love you. I’ll see you soon.

Yours, always.

Baz

#my fic #snowbaz #mcd #tw: cancer #tw: depression #tw: death

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Note

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess.

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help.

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed.

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!”

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this.

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.”

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.”

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #mammon obey me #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #shall we date mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #tw angst

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generalfoolish · 2 years

Text

Space Curses and Apologies

Summary: You meet your soul mate under rough conditions

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; angsty, language, TW: pain, scars, loss of limb, sickness, description of scars, pain infliction, guilt, mentions of death

Word Count: 2.4K

Day 6 of the FFWC2022, Soulmate AU (soulmate's wear each other's scars/tattoos/etc)

A/N: I know I'm out of order, but it's Ezra! Enjoy <3

Masterlist | Taglist

You were young enough when you first felt the sensation that you had no idea about the curse of souls, so you watched in abject terror as the webbed skin between your thumb and index finger was marked. That time, the first time, the ink burned as it set in, a small target. Your mom had sobbed that night, the knowledge of what lay in store for you heavy for her.

The sensation dulled more and more with each new tattoo. You never minded those, admiring the blueish ink dotting your skin, tracing the symbols of another life that littered your skin. The scars, though, they dug in with less grace, they ripped across you and burned angrily for hours after. At night, the only time they seemed to ease, you found yourself longing to comfort the one you were connected with.

Soulmate. The word was tossed around with such anguish and venom in your house that you flinched at it’s mention. Your mother covered every mark, and scolded you, as if you had any power over the cosmos.

Your father offered no help, no solace. The only thing he’d said, was after a symbol was branded on your forearm, the pain flaring up your arm and into your shoulder. Your nose tricked you into smelling the burning flesh, and your father had scowled at you. He denounced you, said you were destined for trash, and you were no daughter of his.

The curse, as you’d come to know it, had sealed your fate for you. Whatever connection you had to this stranger, your soulmate, was enough for your family to throw you out. You had a means to reach your…person, but you couldn’t shore up the courage. What if they were as deplorable as your family had led you to believe?

Instead, you ignored the pull to reach out, and dug yourself a life on the Concordian Moon. The business district, a dull mirage to the contrast of the Euphrate, but you had a job and a place there. It was peaceful. You made friends, you took lovers, and tried to move on. But every now and again, you’d feel the hot pain against your skin and it left your mouth dry. Your soulmate was still alive, out there, and still getting their ass kicked.

It became a joke, at least you played it that way. Some loser that Kevva connected you to, someone that couldn’t help but get the shit beat out of them. Your friends loved it. None of them had soulmates. None of them were cursed.

Slowly, painfully, the connection began to pulse. The pull was harder to ignore, and so you answered the only way you could. You got a tattoo, a small one, the only one you had ever gotten, a few words: Meet me on Concordia.

The artist had looked at you knowingly, but had remained silent. You hoped it would work, that you could satiate the yearning, but months passed with nothing. No new tattoos, no new scars, nothing. Your annoyance turned into dread, and the sickly feeling was unshakeable. You couldn’t hear slander against your soulmate, your friends joking about them being dead, it turned your stomach to consider.

You deep dived into what happened to those whose connections were broken, and it only deepened the crease of your brow. Desperate, you’d returned to the tattoo artist and added a new line underneath: Anywhere.

You had to know. Even if they just didn’t want you, even if they were dead, you had to know.

The response came sooner than you would’ve liked, within moments of walking onto the street, right onto your fresh tattoo a hole appeared, the flesh around it burning like hell. You cried out in pain, and clutched it, finding it already healed over.

Had your soulmate just dug the words out? Furious, you made your way home. Decidedly, you threw out anything about soulmates and the damn curse. Fuck them. Clearly, they weren’t interested in you.

You had plans to get violently drunk and then pass out, but the dull pain in your arm persisted. The pain blossomed, growing larger every hour, until you could barely move it. A fever grew from it, harsh red lines grew from it’s center, turning black before long.

Hazy, from pain, you wondered if you could die from a cosmic infection. You had called in from work, ignored your doorbell and slept. A mix of relief and anguish woke you in the middle of the night. A strangled scream broke from your lips as you felt a sawing pain in your arm. You couldn’t breath deep enough to calm down, every deep gulp of air was met with a choking cough.

You were dying, because your soulmate was dying.

The damn curse was bent on taking everything from you.

At once the pain was gone, and as you scrambled from your bed to throw a lamp on, you saw in the dim light that all of the marks you’d gotten through the years were gone too. Your beloved target had simply vanished. The symbol branding you, the scars, the burns, the life you’d been a part of was gone.

You looked over your left arm, and to your disbelief, it was as it had always been. The faint scars were there, as they’d always been. It took a moment for you to understand, your soulmate had lost his arm.

You sat heavily on the bed and cried for them. Their loss felt like your own. Eventually, exhaustion claimed you and you slept fitfully, dreaming of a green world that was full of buried treasure.

The next morning you chugged the rest of your java supply. You were plagued with your dream, the details fuzzy and seemingly out of reach. It felt important, though, so you called out of work again and spent the day pouring over travel maps of the system.

You’d nearly given up when you reached the Bakhroma system, an inhospitable planet with a dangerous moon. You dived deep into the history of aurelac digging, and clicked through the available, somewhat grainy, photographs from an expedition to the Green Moon.

Your second wind found you on a travel website. Only sort of sketchy, and providing cheap transport to the slingback on the Green. You were just short of hitting a confirmation when pain exploded in your gut. The searing tip of a knife, you thought, as you felt it slide out. You cried out again, and held your stomach. When the pain had subsided, and you gathered enough courage, you looked down. It wasn’t ideal, but angled right would have missed most vitals.

Your person was weak though. They just lost their arm, they couldn’t afford much more blood loss. Plus, something told you they were sick. The spores, you’d read, on the moon would make them sick. You didn’t hesitate. You clicked through the travel site and confirmed your flight. You were out the door within minutes, and you’d be on the Kaslo Porting Long Haul Space freighter by the end of the next day.

You were sick, because they were sick. It was good news, though, you told yourself. As long as you felt like shit, they were at least alive.

Of course, it wasn’t all their fault. You took to space travel like a cat to water. It was cold and empty, the harshness of the trip made your heart break for your soulmate. It was clear from their history that they hadn’t lived an ideal life, and you’d spent the majority of yours turning away from them.

When your boots hit the metal of the Freighter, you could have cried. The crowds were almost overwhelming, but the liveliness made it easy to find out where the infirmary was.

You ran. Ignoring the pain in your stomach, the pain in your arm, you ran to the last corridor. You found a nurse quickly and realized you didn’t know who to ask for. You settled on what you thought you knew, which was also not a lot.

“They’re missing their right arm, it would be fresh. Oh, and a stab wound, probably in this area.” You told her, frantic, pointing at the wound you knew they’d have. She considered you.

“I would typically not do this, but it’s not likely anyone else is coming. It doesn’t look good.” She told you frowning, but she pointed to a room. You didn’t bother to thank her, your feet just moved you forward, unthinking, just falling into the pull. You opened the door and saw them, him, finally. Your person.

He was hooked up to tubes, the monitor beeping endlessly, he was disheveled, but Kevva, he was beautiful. You were entranced, immediately, despite his worryingly pale skin. His patch of bright white hair, turned up against his dark brown hair, illuminated all you needed to know about him belonging to you. Your hand trailing up to your own small patch of white.

“Excuse me?” A small, timid voice spoke to you from the corner of the room. You spun, having missed her completely. She was young, blonde, and looked scared out of her mind. She had thick headphones in her hands, and a small notebook in her lap.

“Oh, wow, sorry. What’s your name?” You asked, approaching her slowly, trying to not spook her.

“Cee, who are you?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh, right. Well, do you know about…” You began, but your throat hitched and the words wouldn’t come. Cee’s eyes narrowed further.

“I’m a friend of his.” You tried again, hoping she wouldn’t press. She didn’t.

“I didn’t know Ezra had any friends.” She muttered, picking her pen back up.

“Not many.” You told her, playing the role. “What’re you working on?” You asked, motioning to the notebook, and leaning against the wall by her chair.

“Story, it’s based on this book, but I kind of make up different stories for them.”

“That’s interesting, what book?” You asked, smiling warmly at her. She beamed in response.

“The Streamer Girl.” You mocked utter disbelief.

“No! I loved that book when I was younger. Would you tell me a story?” You encouraged, and she nodded.

“When it’s finished, or when Ezra’s better.” She decided, and you nodded back.

“Who is Ezra to you?” You asked, regretting it immediately not wanting to pry at such a sensitive time. Cee considered it for a moment.

“He…killed my father.” You gasped softly, your heart breaking for this little girl.

“But he saved my life, many times. He’s a friend.” She resolved, looking at you with clarity. You decided to be honest with her.

“Cee, did anyone ever tell you about The Soul Curse?” She shook her head, so you continued. “It’s said that Kevva linked two people cosmically before either were born, their souls you see. So that when they’re born, anything that happens to one, happens to the other. Ezra’s my soulmate.” You finished softly, and her eyes grew wide before sinking to your right arm.

“You have yours.” She muttered softly.

“Right, well, I also have this.” You took your sweater off, and your undershirt sleeves were short enough that she could see the angry red ring around your forcep. “And this,” you continued, lifting your shirt to show her the purple welp forming where Ezra had been stabbed. Cee’s breathing became hitched, and tears began rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry!” She cried, her face in her hands. You hesitated, not knowing how to comfort her, before hugging her slightly.

“What for, Cee?” You asked, startled by the outburst.

“It’s all my fault!” She wailed into your shirt.

“What is?” Your confusion growing with her emotions.

“I shot him! And then it got infected because I didn’t help him get the juice, and then he got stabbed because I couldn’t get the gem out. He’s going to die because of me!” You smoothed her hair over, and rubbed her back, letting her cry as her words sunk in.

“Oh Cee, Ezra’s going to be fine.” You murmured softly, hugging her gently.

“You don’t know that. I killed your soulmate!” She stammered through sobs, and you smiled before wiping her cheeks.

“Ezra’s been through a lot worse. He isn’t going to die.” You told her, resolute. “I know, because I can feel him. Through this connection, and it’s weird, but when he was down bad it made me sick. I’m fine now, so he must be doing better.” You assured her, knowing your hopeful words weren’t just for her.

“Now, have you eaten?” You asked, patting her back. She shook her head and you smiled. “Time to eat, then, okay? We’ll grab a bite then come right back.”

“I don’t want to leave him.” She muttered quietly and you nodded.

“Okay, what can I get you?” She smiled and gave you an order.

When you came back, the long line holding you up for several hours, you found Cee asleep. You laid her meal beside her, and sat your own tray down on the table. When you looked at Ezra you found him looking back at you. He was no longer wearing the oxygen mask, and his piercing brown eyes sent a shiver down your back. He was signaling that he could kill you, even from his hospital bed, and every hair on your neck was raised.

You smiled.

“Finally.” You told him, quietly. His face fell immediately from fierce to exhausted.

“I came a long way to see you.” You explained, making your way to the edge of his bed. You sat carefully and watched him for a moment.

“I see you lost your invitation.” You murmured, eyes dropping to his missing limb.

“By Kevva, I thought that had been a dream.” He rasped, his throat likely dry. You leaned over and grabbed a cup of water for him, holding it to his lips. His lips, dry and chapped, were still pink and plush, inviting you in.

“No dream.” You offered, showing him your own arm. He reached with his left arm to trace the words you’d gotten tattooed, and his brow creased as he thumbed over the fresh scar.

“All of them?” He asked, and you nodded. He pulled his hand away like you had burned him. “I’m sorry.” He confessed, clearing his throat. “I…didn’t realize.” You shook your head sadly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier.” He met your eyes, and you were pulled deep into those dark pools. “You’re beautiful, Ezra.” You told him, brushing your fingers across his scruffy face. “Thanks for not dying.” He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound that you never wanted to lose.

taglist: @certifiedhunter @greeneyedblondie44 @boxdyeblonde@solemnlyswearss

#ezra x female reader #ezra x f!reader #Ezra x fem!reader #Ezra prospect #ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra prospect x you #pedro pascal characters #Ezra fic #ffwc 2022

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jamespotterthefirst · 3 years

Note

could you maybe write some quick HC where Ethan and Lilac go to a haunted house?

I love this! Here we go:

Haunted (HCs)

“You have anxiety.”

This is Ethan's sole and (in his opinion) strongest argument in deterring his wife from the idea of going to a Halloween Haunted House

“It'll be fine.”

Lilac says this with too much emphasis on the last word, as though trying to convince herself more than him.

It wasn't.

It wasn't fine.

Ethan finds the first horror of the night at the entrance.

The price of admission.

“For a hundred dollars each, we better be wheeled out of here in a stretcher.”

“Amen to that,” Jackie proclaims.

The rest of their friends cheer in agreement as they're herded indoors.

The second terror of the night for Ethan is discovering the theme is zombies.

Lahela, on the other hand, is far too excited than anyone has any right to be. He wears dark sunglasses, even indoors, as he pumps his fist in the air.

“Let's go! I'm rea—” Lahela begins, but the sentiment turns into a loud curse as something hops out from nowhere.

Lilac, meanwhile, clings to Ethan's arm like a cat.

“We can go back.”

A pale, wide-eyed Lilac shakes her head resolutely.

It's times like these he wished his wife wasn't so brave. To a fault.

When the hoard of zombies appears from nowhere, everyone in the group reacts differently.

“Hell nah.” (Greene)

“Scatter everyone.” (Lahela)

Loud shrieks quickly followed by laughter (Trinh)

“You touch me, I sue.” (Varma)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” (Lilac)

Ethan, for his own part, tries very hard not to laugh at the gaudy attempt to inspire terror in people. It's juvenile and downright tacky.

But his terrified wife digs her nails further into his skin and since she won't be reasonable and get the hell out of there with him, he does what he does best.

He uses the dry humor she loves so much to distract her.

“Blunt force trauma to the abdominal area.”

The creature—aka the actor in heavy makeup and prosthetics— blinks at Ethan.

“An unknown object was used with acceleration to inflict a laceration, damaging the kidneys.”

Everyone, even the other zombies, stops to gape at him in the foggy darkness.

“Babe?” Lilac's grip in his arm slackens a bit.

“Resulting in hypotension and more severely, hypovolemic shock.”

Jackie, realizing it first, crosses her arms, giving Ethan an impressed once over.

“Dr. R, are you diagnosing the zombies?” Greene asks, stunned.

“Cause of death: circulatory failure.” Ethan says by way of answer.

“Could have been organ failure,” Lilac adds thoughtfully. “Kidneys.”

Sienna laughs in unrestrained excitement. “Okay, okay! New game! We're diagnosing these bastards.”

The group agrees with excited murmurs.

“Alright, Doctors, look alive!” Sienna commands before they get down to business.

And so they go through the rest of the attraction, examining wounds and diagnosing the various gruesome ailments.

Every once in a while, they ask for Bryce's surgical opinion. Most of the time, he shrugs and explains that if they've been bitten and infected with a detrimental zombie virus, the best course of action is to shoot them. In which case, diagnosing them is moot.

“You're no fun, meathead.”

“And you're also surprisingly cold-blooded.”

“It's the zombie apocalypse. Everyone has to make decisions they'll have to live with for the rest of their lives.”

By the end of it, Lilac is laughing by Ethan's side.

Even more when the appeal of applying medical knowledge to this ridiculous situation wears off by the end and Ethan just opts to carry her out.

“Thank you,” she says when everyone's amusement has simmered down. “I knew you'd do something like that for me.”

Ethan only raises his brows, feigning disgust. “I'm becoming that predictable?”

“You've always been.”

She's thinking of the very first moment they met, when he steadied her hand through the fear of her first medical emergency.

“Or maybe you just know me too well.

A/N: Thank you so much, anon!

If you sent me a HC request, I am working on it :)

The last thing I have planned for Halloween is a fic called "Cara Mia" and I just need to figure out how to end it lol. Hopefully it gets posted in a few hours!

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #headcanons

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ekaterinatepes · 3 years

Text

Nothing But The Best

Author Notes: once again I apologize for how long this took to update. Schedule is still hectic and will remain so for the following month or so. But fear not. I shall continue to update at least once a week. Once again reblogs and comments are appreciated!

XVI

Our ability to survive depends on our skill to change and adapt. Everything in life is about transformation.

The drastic changes in your life seemed like a never ending avalanche of heart break and tough decisions… once again, transformation.

Your own choices placed you exactly where you were at, there was no one else to blame but yourself.

Satoru chose to remain in New York for another two weeks during which he had invested himself into re-discovering you (in his mind you never stopped being his. In the sanctuary of his thoughts you are always referred to as his wife, his one and only Mrs. Y/N Gojo. The woman of his life and owner of his heart).

Satoru tried a gentle approach with you. Not wanting to push you too far not to leave you alone all together. Using all his knowledge of your personality and preferences he slowly inserted himself in your life once again.

At 5:30am sharp he would meet you at the entrance of your building wearing his training clothes, he wanted to show you he supported you and your career. He would go for a run with you around the park. This, of course evoked memories of when you both first started dating and Satoru would show up to workout with you or take you out to dinner after training.

You got to know he had been working harder to help Yuuji control the curse inside him but it was a hard endeavor. He didn’t have to specifically verbalize it for you to know it was a loosing battle and he felt responsible for it but he was trying his best to find a way to help the boy. You missed the kids, they were like family. So you made sure to ask Satoru to tell them you missed them.

But despite your ex-husband’s best efforts you still wanted to be alone. You needed some clarity, the opportunity to sort out your feelings. Gojo wasn’t particularly thrilled with you pushing him away but he promised to you and himself that he would change and would do an effort to respect your wishes so he gave you your space.

But Satoru wasn’t stupid, he knew you missed Suguru and felt guilty for choosing your own husband (ex-husband) over your best friend.

And that’s why you kept pushing him away. Saying you needed time to think.

His time was running out, he had to return to Japan. At least for now, he had unavoidable responsibilities with his students as well as the rest of his missions. He went to your apartment the night before his flight and explained to you why he had to return but he also promised to come back to New York as soon as possible.

“It’s alright Satoru, I understand… I’m gonna be just fine” you reassured the sorcerer who didn’t look convinced at all about leaving you alone. “Please, at least answer my calls and messages. I’m gonna be worried sick if you don’t” you nodded and then he hugged you tightly, inhaling your intoxicating aroma as if he wanted to commit it to memory. His lips soon found yours and before either of you knew it you were in your bed ripping off each other’s clothes so you could express with your bodies how much exactly you would miss one another.

He had taken you for granted once, he would never make that same mistake.

-1 Week Later-

It had been three weeks since you last saw Suguru, he wouldn’t answer your calls, texts nor your emails. You didn’t even know if he was still in New York for that matter. Not knowing was slowly killing you, consumed by guilt you knew you deserved this treatment.

And yet, you wanted to find him and explain… try to make it up to him somehow. He didn’t deserve the pain you had inflicted upon him.

From: Kitten 🐱

To: Sugu

I need to talk to you, please give me a chance to explain. I don’t want to lose you Suguru. I know it’s selfish on my behalf but I can’t let you walk away without explaining. Please Suguru.

I miss you.

Another message sent, he wouldn’t answer your texts. At least he didn’t block your phone number. (Not yet, supplied your tortured mind)

The whole reason why you held back from actually having sex with Suguru although you both had wanted that very much during the last 6 months was because you wanted to give Geto everything. Not only half of you. He deserved someone who would chose him completely. At least that’s what you knew was right.

You didn’t want to toy with his emotions. Then again Satoru’s sporadic presence in your life didn’t help at all. Everytime he showed up you were back to the beginning.

There was no other way to explain this other than saying…you could never resist him.

It was a Monday evening, you just got home after your training at the academy. Sitting on the couch eating some salad when the doorbell rang. You were not expecting anyone. And most importantly someone who didn’t need to be announced by the guard downstairs. There were only two people who could show up at your door in such fashion.

When you opened the door the first thing you saw was a broad torso covered in a very familiar black fitted t-shirt. Long black hair framing a handsome face and those beautiful amber pools looking at you. Without hesitation you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Suguru responded to your embrace by surrounding your firmly in his arms lifting you a few inches from the floor.

His sweet lavender and sage scent welcomed your senses once more. It wasn’t until he dried the tears from your cheeks that you realized you had been crying.

“Yo..you are here… Suguru! I am so sorry! I-“ he stopped you by placing his right index finger upon your lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I am here because I have to tell you something important. Come Kitten, let us sit” he took your hand and guided you to the couch where as soon as you both sat next to one another you threw yourself into his arms once more making the raven haired sorcerer chuckle “I missed you too Kitten” he whispers against your h/c tresses.

“Listen…. I was angry… I was mad at you because I thought you would choose me and instead chose Satoru. But these past weeks without you, I have been a wreck to say the least and then I realized… I have always known you loved Satoru from the beginning and that never bothered me before.” Sighing he made a small pause before continuing “Granted… I do resent him for hurting you but I never expected you to completely loose your feelings for him.“ you were about to explain to him that you were trying to sort those feelings out but he interrupted you with a little kiss on your lips “let me finish Kitten” a tender smile spread across his lips making you blush again.

“I realized that I don’t want to renounce to you, I don’t want to give you up. Because there simply is no other person who I want to be with. No one can replace you. And you don’t have to choose between Satoru and me…. At least on my behalf I am ok with sharing you with him. I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want to put you in a position that only will hurt your heart.” Stroking your cheek softly Suguru leaned in and kissed your lips once more, just this time the exchange was sweeter and lasted longer. His tongue teased the entrance to your mouth before fully delving in to revel in your warmth and sweetness. Pulling back and looking into your eyes Geto assured you “I love you… and I want you to be happy. I am not going to make you choose because I don’t want to lose you Y/N”.

To say you were shocked to the core and touched beyond words was an understatement “Suguru… I don’t know what to say…” you start but Geto chuckled

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away.. I und—-“

You cut him by crushing your lips against his, kissing him throughly. Your legs straddled his waist immediately so you could feel his strong and warm body against yours. Was this man even real? I mean… Suguru Geto was a remarkable person but at this point you started questioning your own sanity. Did you make this man up in your imagination? Because you have never met someone sweeter, nor kinder nor more loving than him. And this was without counting all his very alluring physical attributes.

By the time you pulled back you were out of breath and so was he.

Now, the thing was… is this what you wanted? Did you want them both? Wasn’t it too greedy to have them both as lovers?

There was also the possibility Satoru would flat out reject the idea but… you didn’t want to choose between them. You…. Loved them both.

Before you could speak once more you ‘felt’ someone behind you stroking your back.

Almost jumping out of your skin you turned around to find Satoru in his usual jujutsu high uniform sans blindfold.

“You’re late…” Suguru comments as if he had been expecting his best friend to teleport right then.

“I know… Yaga was being a pain in the ass as per usual” added Satoru with a grin before taking a sit next to Suguru with the biggest shit eating grin you could imagine.

“So? Did she agree?” Questioned smirking and moving his hand to stroke your hair away from your neck while you still sat on Suguru’s lap.

“I am not sure… I think we broke her…” added Geto amusedly before chuckling and kissing your cheek.

“I know how to fix that!” Excitedly announced the white haired man. Cupping your face between his hands he pulled you in to kiss you deeply. His tongue voraciously licking the inside of your mouth and enticing you to kiss him back.

This was surreal…. Were you dreaming? You had to be dreaming or maybe you hit your head and now we’re in a coma. Yeah… you have to be hallucinating this.

When Satoru pulled back he laughed “Princess… don’t look so surprised… you must have known this would have happened sooner or later… Sug and I would never give you up and we know you wouldn’t pick one over the other either… and well, we didn’t want to give you the chance to pick neither…” they knew exactly how you were. Even before you knew it yourself. They just knew you would bolt and choose no one if that meant not hurting the other so they had to figure out a solution where all of you were happy.

Tags: @sleepyamaya

@jxvajxy

@okkotsuoasis

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

@fiona782

@thatsharklovingwoman

@heichoustheoryofcleanliness

@syynnaaah

@shaylove418

@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

@actualdeemon

@darenolilbitchahkoredesuka

@bloombb

@redbircl

@heizenka

@haleypearce

#jjk #gojo x you #gojo saturo x reader #jjkgojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo angst #jujustu kaisen #jjk suguru #gojo x female reader #gojo x y/n #getou #geto x reader #geto x y/n

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thewriterisalwayswrite · 2 years

Text

“Careful with that, dear. One of those could cut a finger clean off.”

Ford had always found that once an idea had been placed in his head, nothing could keep him from it.

All he’d been doing was yard work. Basic cleanup and things like that, and some of it happened to involve pruners. He’d used pruners before, of course, and every time his mother was sure to tell him to be careful. And he was. Careful.

Everything Ford did was done with precision and with forethought. Unlike a certain identical twin brother, he always thought before going through with anything.

Which was why when he found himself alone in his bedroom at night with a pair of pruners and a first aid kit, he’d considered it carefully and come to a decision using reason and logic.

Of course, there would be no hospital visit. He couldn’t imagine his father being involved, and he didn’t particularly want to make his mother cry. Stan would be out until the next morning, which was one of the reasons he’d chosen that night specifically. Everything would be done, disinfected and bandaged by the time anyone saw it and could have anything to say about his impromptu surgery.

He took a deep breath in. Then out. He opened and closed the pruners a few times. He checked to make sure he had everything set up to be able to take care of things while in intense pain. Finally, he carefully placed the blades at the base of his extra finger and-

“The fuck is going on in here?”

Ford turned around so fast that he dropped the pruners. He felt them graze his hand as they fell to the floor and he scrambled to his feet.

“Stanley?” Ford silently cursed how quiet and pathetic his voice sounded.

“Yeah, who else would be-” the gruff voice trailed off as he moved over to Ford, roughly grabbing his hand and inspecting the damage. The knowledge of how much more damage would have been inflicted had Stan been just a few seconds later hung heavily over the both of them.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ford had to admit, he hadn’t been anticipating the sheer rage in his brother’s voice as he was violently shoved back down into his desk chair. His breath caught as he stared up at Stan- he’d never been afraid of his brother, even if he was bigger, stronger, but now there was something wild in Stan’s eyes and Ford couldn’t say with certainty what he would do.

“Staney, I didn’t- I don’t- please, I-”

Ford cut himself off as he watched realization dawn on Stan’s face- he’d scared Ford, and that wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do. Stan slowly reached a hand up to his face, scrubbing it over his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath.

“Ford, it’s okay. Fuck, no, it’s actually not okay. But I’m not mad at you.”

Ford tried to breathe, finding it a bit more challenging than it normally was. Stan gave him a few seconds to find his footing before cracking open the first aid kit and taking his brother’s hand once again.

A rough “hold on” was the only warning Ford received before an alcohol pad was dragged over the abrasion. He sucked in a pained breath. Stan didn’t apologize as he began wrapping the raw injury in a clean bandage with expert skill. It wasn’t long before Stan was finished, cleaning up and pocketing the tool that did the deed, making a note to put it somewhere inaccessible to his twin.

“Alright, come on. Start talking.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfic #stan pines #ford pines #stanley and stanford #i'm not gonna finish this #but i thought i'd post what i have #tw self harm

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house-foxglove · 3 years

Text

Umbrella Pantheon

So i adore and love the god au for re8 by @booaghost and the art is DOPE. and my adhd/hyperfixation has decided this is the only thing now and have written my own headcannon for it. I especially like the minor/obscre characters like the sword maiden, Urias, the guy who made the dagger, and the guy who made the labrynths. (Leagăn refers to the expanded kingdom that was the Village) But right now here’s what i got for the Four Lords, Miranda, The Dark God, and the 3 Sisters: The Black God / It that Remembers / Necros / The Grimm Egg

A primordial god, not a conscious being but one of a strange and eldritch nature that rests below Leagăn the cradle of the creature. It wishes to be linked and to be known by every living thing, it cares not what is done with the power siphoned from it, only that it is gifted or taken at all. Curses dead flesh to rise again, and curses already living bodies to undergo horrible change. All under its sway that die turns into calcified crystal that in turn wields properties that could harm beings of Necros even further.

Mother Miranda / The Winged Mother / The Hag

Gifts divinity to those she finds worthy, they in turn gift divinity in their image, but she maintains absolute order in the hierarchy of the divine. She was the first among those in Leagăn to inherit divinity and when not attending to her divine duties she roams the countryside seeking those who would be worthy of divinity. But as of late she has been getting impatient, none of the other gods have been able to match her power and she is getting tired of their, in her eyes, wasted efforts.

Donna Beneviento (Berengario) / Goddess of Day and Night - Joy and Sorrow - Comedy and TragedyA silent goddess who only speaks on rare occasions. Her domain is the Theater and her throne and workshop at Mount Teatru’s peak. Due to her agoraphobia and aversion to humanity she solely works with non-living materials which gain their own life. Some of these mannequins and other living creations break off in their own passion causing joy and/or sorrow wherever they tread. Only a few humans are allowed near the theater and those who come too close to the peak are lost.

Salvatore Moreau (Nichola) / God of the Sea and Healing / The Vile PhysicianThe most meek of the gods who is self conscious of his divinity. He didn’t think he was worthy of it in the first place and dislikes the separation from humanity. People pray to him for safe passage on the ocean as well as healing illnesses. His fins are rumored to be a cure-all, but it takes canny or a great amount of trust in order to get one from him. He responds to any prayers he can but doesn't like making a show of it. When he does take on his human form he will attend a variety of plays and productions as well as attending different shows Donna has been concocting and is easily delighted by all of them. Frequently takes on the form of a mer-man or an anglerfish-like sea monster, as staying him his human form takes much energy to focus on.

Karl Heisenberg (Guglielmo) / God of Creation and Defiance / The Dark Prometheus

A spiteful god and one that encourages all humanity to rebel against higher powers and to break chains. Similar to the Duke, Karl will provide upstart adventurers and mundane folk with the tools to defeat obstacles placed by gods and even minor deities, but if they fail they are to be bound to him. He will allow them to succeed up to a certain point, so far as what he truly wanted accomplished is done so. The whole quest is a trick. All of those who fail fall back into his arms in defeat and shame and agree to join him. He holds no true love for his “siblings” but finds traits about them admirable. If they would join his side that would allow a chance for a bond to truly be forged between them, but he knows they are too enamored with their divinity and their mother to turn against her. He takes on the form of a clockwork horse or a centaur.

Alcina Dimitrescu (Cesare)/ Goddess of Harvest and Debauchery / Dragon of the Mountain

The most Prideful of the gods who was proud even before she was raised by divinity. Before she was a god she originally had three daughters that were killed by an assassin from the village below her castle. She then beat the man with a candlestick and choked him to death. But when she was gifted godhood she decided to make the lives of the village below her a living hell. For decades she would take villagers as a tithe to hunt and feast upon, until she came upon three infants who she took in and gave divinity and raised as her own. Miranda was impressed by the savagery and motherly instinct of Alcina and offered her own power in giving the girls power. She holds some bitterness towards her siblings, especially Heisenberg, seeing them as not quite regal or as fitting to the position of a god as her or her children. But despite this she holds them in warm regard, reluctantly, especially Donna in her creativity and Sal in his skill and knowledge in medicine.Takes on the form of a giant bat when going on hunts or a mighty furred dragon to wrestle and fight with Heisenberg.

The Aphid Daughters / The Witch Sisters / The Hateful Swarm

Bela- God of Blood and Guts (Mosquito) She seeks to hunt individuals who exhibit more bravery than most, some of them have even come close to inflicting a mortal wound on her. But she makes sure that it never goes too far and kills them before they inflict real harm.

Cassandra- God of Famine and Hunt (Locust) She torments by devastating crops and chasing villagers. She likes to provoke and prod at her uncles. She feels the need to be in constant company with her sisters or anyone she imprints on, constantly asking to hunt with someone else (even some of the werewolves if no one wants to).

Daniela- God of Love and Song (Cicada) She adores visits with Donna as she can join in her productions as a lead role. She tries to woo different maidens that are enlisted to join the castle staff to varying success and failure. Most likely to people please anyone despite her station.

#resident evil #resident evil village #castle dimitrescu #lord heisenberg #re8 #dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #umbrella pantheon #re8 au #My brain just really fucking loves this holy shit #Can't get enough? Well shit im making it

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theriverpersonshadow · 3 years

Text

Happy Halloween! Dropping a Lamia I made for the occasion ‘cause why not.

His name’s Hallow, read more in the blurb below if you like~

This one’s not related to the lamia drama series and probably won’t show up there.

Papython species made by @vex-bittys

Hallow

A full sized, lavender-albino Papython who for all accounts seems normal enough at first glance. He’s friendly, sweet, maybe a bit more reserved than some might expect from a Papython, but overall a soft hearted sweetie pie. Adores children, gets along great with pets (though sometimes gets oddly sentimental and cries with dogs), has an uncanny sense of when people need a moment of quiet or just someone to be with them (especially when they’re grieving), greatly enjoys making sweets (especially candies) with a bit of a sweet tooth himself, and quietly has a private hobby of studying the occult.

It’s a known but well kept secret at his home village, and some people are more accepting of it than others. Those others wanted to run him out of town, but bad things mysteriously seemed to befall them when they tried.

Despite the rumors, anyone who’s actually spoken to him at length about it will realize he’s exactly as sweet and wholesome as he seems. Oh sure, he has knowledge of both the most common curses and the most devastating curses, but you have to know them if you want to break them (or avoid accidentally inflicting/being inflicted by them). Has several ways to channel the dead, allowing himself to be possessed included, but he knows the safety procedures as well as he knows how to make honey candy - no demons are getting through to him! And if occasionally he ends up frantically whispering, wide-eyed, unseeing and unmoving, every need and desire waited on by people who came to him for help, well, he probably just got them out of some deep shit and needs a little time to recharge.

He compulsively over-salts and uses garlic on almost everything he cooks and is honestly sick of it, being ever-cautious about the powers he’s invoking and doing his best to be responsible as he delves into forbidden practices and attempts to learn how to walk into other realms and fish out what lurks between the cracks of reality.

Got into it because as a child he fed the lamia shelter’s dog, Lady, a lot of chocolate as a gift one day, unknowing what it would do (to this day, no one knows it was him) and searched for a way to apologize and bring the beloved dog back for himself and everyone else. One small disaster later, he learned to be much more careful with it, and to this day still calls upon the arcane and forbidden so he can play fetch with Lady for a while, apologize again for both accidents, and remind her she’s been a very good dog. In return, she’s led him back from the edge of madness and oblivion quite a few times. If anyone’s made the connection between the old lamia shelter dog and the unearthly mutt sometimes seen around the area, well, they’ve decided to keep quiet about it.

He used to be called Lavi, no one’s entirely sure when people switched to Hallow, not even Hallow himself, and thus he’s always shocked to hear his old name.

With that said, when he’s not learning or practicing how to safely reach into Things Beyond or helping people with some related problem (outside of contacting the dead, it’s almost never an occult problem, but placebos work wonders), he’s usually hanging out with friends, making candy, playing and/or planning party games, or doing random odd-jobs. He’d also enjoy pet sitting or babysitting if allowed, but only a few people seem confident enough for that….

#halloween #hallow #hallow the papython #vex bitties #undertale au #lamiatale #papython #if you are going to contact the spirit realm please so so responsibly #I’m not saying that you should but cannot stop you #be careful with that kind of stuff guys!#tw necromancy #wholesome necromancer #I don’t know how to use read more on mobile #dude probably literally has a haunted house and gives homemade candies if you make it to him #might post a little fic later~#feel free to reblog!

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 3 years

Text

Trees Are Stupid.

There are some things in life that people learn without ever having to experience them. For me, one of those things really should have been ‘do not sneak out of a second story bedroom window if you have a broken leg’.

In my defense, I’d never had any trouble with the window before. The peach tree in our neighbour’s backyard was broad and healthy and one of its thick, strong branches was within easy jumping distance from my room. I’d silently slid the window open, checked to be sure that I was in the poorly-disguised undercover policeman’s blind spot, and was halfway out before I realised that balancing on the sill might be a little difficult with my right foot and calf encased in plaster.

I gripped both sides of the window frame and balanced as well as I could on my left foot. I’d always been small for my age, looking closer to eleven than fourteen, so the jump wouldn’t require very much strength. The branch, barely visible in the fading light, seemed to wave in time to the gunfire and screaming wafting up from my parents’ movie downstairs.

I leapt, and smacked right into the branch. It was a jump I could normally make without thinking about it, but the broken leg had thrown me off; I smacked chest-first into solid wood and instinctively wrapped my arms around it to keep from falling. The pain rushed through my ribs all the way to my spine, then faded, lingering for an extra moment in the little scar just to the left of my breastbone that I always tried to ignore. Not that I’d be able to ignore it any more, after the accident.

No, not accident. After the attack.

The back porch light was on. Most people would take this to be an accident, but I knew it was my parents’ plausibly deniable polite concession to the undercover police officers we were all pretending not to notice. They needed a clear view of the back door to make sure I was staying in the house like a good little boy. The light clearly illuminated the word WITCH that somebody had spraypainted across the back of our house, but it didn’t reach me in the tree. After a few seconds of stillness in which I waited for someone to move or shout, I felt it was safe to continue.

Arms and knees around the branch, I slid along it over the fence bordering our yard and towards the trunk of the tree. Our neighbours were still awake; light was visible around the kitchen blinds. This wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t all that late.

Normally I’d just drop to the ground and go ring the doorbell, but there was the issue of the police. Something else gave me pause, too; the small wreath of holly and mistletoe hung on the back door. That hurt more than hitting the branch had. Contrary to myth, neither holly nor mistletoe had ever stopped me from entering a building – I wouldn’t be able to enter most shops or cafes if it did – but the Nebits weren’t to know that. They’d always made a point of not warding their doors, and the fact that they’d done so now… well. I couldn’t really blame them, could I?

I switched to another branch, one stretching towards the Nebits’ house. The window I was aiming for wasn’t all that far from my own; it seemed like an awful lot of work to reach it by treeclimbing. If we’d been on the ground floor, I’d almost be able to reach it from my own window.

I couldn’t quite reach it from the tree, though. Again, this was a jump I’d made dozens of times, but it had been hard enough jumping into the tree with a broken leg; even I wasn’t going to try to jump out of a tree at a closed window when I couldn’t even safely stand up. I could envision the result – me slamming face-first into the wall below the window, and the Nebits coming to investigate the noise and finding a broken, bleeding body under their peach tree. Not an ideal situation.

Instead, I plucked a peach from the tree and threw it at the window. A moment later, it opened.

Melissa was sihlouetted in her bedroom light, so I couldn’t see much more than the halo of brown hair she was in the process of brushing, but I knew she was glaring at me. Melissa has the kind of glare you can feel through lead walls. When she grows up and has kids, they’re going to be the most well-behaved children in the world.

“Kayden, what the hell?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re under house arrest!”

“I know, that’s why I’m in a tree. But it is Saturday.”

Apparently, Melissa couldn’t argue with this logic. She fetched the usual climbing rope from her closet and tossed one end to me. I tied it to the tree, slid my way over to the window, and climbed in.

“Are you alright?” Melissa asked, checking over my arms for scratches and bruises. I didn’t pull away; Melissa gets focused when she’s worried, and it’s generally best not to get in her way. There were dark shadows under her eyes, I noticed, and her normally rosy, freckled cheeks were pale; had she lost sleep over me?

I shrugged. “They discharged me, so nothing can be too wrong with me. It’s not the first fall I’ve taken.”

“You know what I meant.”

I shrugged again.

“We tried to visit you, you know. They had you in some kind of high security ward and Chelsea almost got caught trying to pickpocket a nurse’s keycard.”

I suppressed a chuckle. “Of course she did. She’s not here yet?”

“She was grounded after the keycard thing, so I don’t think she’ll be able to convince her mum to – ”

Just then, Melissa’s bedroom door opened. “Don’t tell my mum I’m here,” Chelsea said quietly. “I’m grounded.”

Melissa threw up her arms. “Did anyone in this neighbourhood not sneak out of their bedroom window today?”

“Um, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Neither did I,” Chelsea said. “I’m not an idiot. I used our bathroom window. First floor.”

“Well la-de-da, Miss Police-Aren’t-Watching-My-House,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Kayden, did you climb a tree in your pyjamas?” Chelsea asked.

I glanced down at myself. “Maybe.”

“You’ve lost a button.”

Chelsea, unlike Melissa and I, was not in her pyjamas. She was wearing a flannel shirt that I was pretty sure was mine. Despite being a year younger than me, we were exactly the same size, and more than once she’d joked about getting me a jaw-length blonde wig and herself a shorter brown one to see how long we could pretend to be each other before someone noticed. Said jokes were getting worryingly serious.

“It’s your turn to hide the tracker,” Chelsea reminded me.

Melissa glared at her. “That stupid tracker game created this mess, and you still expect him to play?” she snapped.

“That’s pretty insensitive, Chel,” I agreed. “Especially since I’ve already hidden it. You think the school roof was a clever hiding spot? Oh, man. You are in for a wake-up call.”

She frowned. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “You haven’t had a chance to hide anything. They took you straight home from the hospi – ” She put her face in her hands and groaned. “You found the tracker before you ended up in hospital. You had it with you. And the only other places you’ve been are your house, and a high security ward in the hospital. And you know better than to hide it in your house.”

I spread my hands. “Hey, the circumstances aren’t my fault. If you want to find it, might I suggest stealing a nurse’s keycard? Oh wait.”

“You’re both crazy,” Melissa said.

“That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘incredibly awesome’,” Chelsea said. “When does the cast come off?”

“In another week and a half.”

“Just in time for school holidays!”

“I’m suspended anyway, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

We fell silent. None of us wanted to talk about the next obvious point of conversation.

Eventually, Melissa asked, “What about after the school holidays?”

I shrugged. “They haven’t set a date for the trial or anything yet, so…”

“So you’ll probably get a super long holiday before you’re found innocent and everything goes back to normal!” Chelsea threw an arm over my shoulders. “I’m so jealous.”

I shrugged her off. “I’m not innocent. My victim – ”

“Victim!” Chelsea scoffed. “You know this is Matt Parker you’re talking about, right? If I’d been up there I’d have pushed him off myself, curse or no curse.”

“You’re innocent,” Melissa said. “You know the law. Accidental consequences of curses can’t be prosecuted, unless the carrier of the curse was knowledgably negligent.”

“Fourteen-year-olds shouldn’t use words like ‘negligent’,” Chelsea frowned. “You sound like my dad.”

Melissa ignored her. “You’ve had that curse stuck in your heart since before you could walk, and nobody could ever say you were negligent. It’s done absolutely nothing for fourteen years. No causing sickness, no turning things to gold, it doesn’t even sour milk. There was absolutely no way you could have predicted it to lash out here.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “I should have expected it to lash out, because I should always be expecting it to lash out. My control slipped, and now everyone knows I put that jerk in hospital. He nearly died, you know. I nearly killed him.”

“Your curse nearly killed him,” Melissa corrected.

“I would have nearly killed him if I got the chance,” Chelsea shrugged. “Don’t even need a curse. I would’ve just hit him.”

“Everyone knows that Matt’s injuries are more self-inflicted than anything,” Melissa added. “Nobody blames you for any of this.”

“Then why is there a wreath on your door?” I asked.

Melissa looked away. “My parents are idiots.”

“No, your parents are scared, and they’re right. Your family have known about my curse since I got it. Your parents never had a problem with it, or with me, until now. But now they finally see what it means, what it can do, and they want nothing to do with me. They think I could hurt you, and they’re right. I could kill both of you without warning. Doesn’t that bother you?”

The two girls stared at me, completely unimpressed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

“Why would that bother us?” Melissa asked. “It’s not exactly new information.”

“You’ve always known about the curse, but now that it’s active and – ”

Melissa waved me silent. “Not the curse. I mean in general. We’re all capable of killing each other if we want. You don’t need a curse for that. Five minutes ago I threw you a rope to climb in my window; I could’ve untied my end and you could very easily have died. Does that bother you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m not saying your curse doesn’t suck, I’m just saying it doesn’t make you a terrifying monster, and anybody who looks at you differently now that it’s attacked Matt is an idiot for not taking it seriously and getting over it years ago.”

“That’s easy for us to say,” Chelsea said, “but to be fair, people have been kind of freaking out. Your family and mine were the only ones around here who ever really knew about the curse. To everyone else, it kind of…” she shrugged.

“Looks like I lied to them about something really dangerous I was carrying around the neighbourhood?” I asked.

“… Kind of, yeah. But they’ll get over it.”

“What’s the internet look like? The police confiscated my phone and I haven’t been online since the whole thing happened.”

The girls exchanged a worried glance.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mum turned our wi-fi off. I don’t think she wants me to see what people are saying.”

“You don’t want to see what people are saying,” Melissa said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chelsea said. “If anyone gives you trouble, point at them and babble nonsense until they run screaming.”

“Yeah, because that would help his court case,” Melissa said.

“Nobody can give me any trouble. I’m not supposed to leave the house. Actually, I should probably get back before Mum and Dad notice I’m missing.”

“Righto. Liss, do you have some rope?” Chelsea headed for the window.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Stringing a rope from the tree to your window. Or did you have another plan for getting back in with that?” She nudged my cast with her toe. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She took a rope from Melissa, slipped easily out the window and within seconds was walking along the tree branch outside.

“I’ll never get how you two can do that,” Melissa remarked.

“It’s easy. It’s just one foot in front of the other. Until you slip and break a leg.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to the ground like a normal person, thanks.”

“Sounds boring.”

Melissa chuckled and shoved me playfully. I grinned, trying to keep the mood light. Trying not to think about the future.

Whether I was found guilty of assault or not, I was dangerous, and now the whole street and the whole school knew it. There was no going back from that.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Story continues here.

#writing #curse words #yeah that's right I'm just fuckin'#dumping chapter 1 here #I'm out of marketing ideas #this is what I have been reduced to

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spyrothesquish-0006 · 3 years

Note

Crack Ask: Henry from Fire Emblem Awakening as MC in Obey Me headcanons.

Anon, I hope you know how much goddamn joy this ask brought me😂😂 sorry for the wait, school shit was kicking my ass for a bit, but I hope you enjoy!!

Henry from Fire Emblem Awakening waking up as MC in Obey Me

Henry:

• oh boy Henry would have so much fun

• you're telling him there's 7???? Demons???? He gets to live with and pester with questions about magic and experiment on learn about???

• he'd be absolutely delighted

• but probably wouldn't realize that he's in the devildom and would just assume it's some weird part of Ylisse he's never seen

• would also probably think the brothers are just *really* good looking Risen

• hot damn would he be sweatin'

• he's looking respectfully No, no he's not.

Lucifer:

• oh no

• he definitely notices that Henry seems a little....off

• he shows surpsingly no fear whatsoever at meeting 7 demon lords

• Lucifer is Concerned™️

• has no idea what he's talking about when Henry mentions Ylisse and "Risen"

• automatically assumes he's a loon and requests for Diavolo to send him back

• when Diavolo refuses, he is more than irritated

• for a short time, Lucifer almost comes to like Henry

• his constant curiosity about him strokes his ego quite nicely

• until it becomes annoying and Henry wants to do some "experiments" on him

• he threatens Henry on numerous occasions but no matter what punishment he inflicts, Henry only laughs

Mammon:

• is immediately distrustful of Henry because he's just so damn weird??

• his distrust isn't helped by the fact that Henry takes an odd liking to Mammon

• Mammon is generally surrounded by shiny things and Henry is drawn to shiny things

• he begins trusting Henry more when he randomly starts giving Mammon advice on how to steal things

• he soon learns that Henry is surprisingly good at pick-pocketing

• any distrust Mammon has towards Henry is quickly forgotten once he sees how he is around his own crows

• Mammon's crows soon take a liking to Henry as well

• they start bringing shiny stuff back to the both of them, and Henry's crows end up doing the same thing

• Mammon and Henry are now the sole members of the Caw Caw Committee (named by Henry)

• Henry is usually who Mammon goes to to get goldie back from Lucifer

• Mammon doesn't know how he does it, but Henry never disappoints in getting his wallet back

Levi:

• to say that Henry disturbs him is an understatement

• his general personality is very much the opposite of Levi

• at first, Levi stays in his room even more and refuses to be alone in a room with Henry

• his comfort levels steadily go up around Henry once he realizes that he's actually not half bad..?

• Henry is really no worse than some con goers Levi as met when it comes to his odd fixations

• Levi soon succeeds in getting Henry obsessed with TSL

• now Levi *really* considers him "his" Henry

• they both end up annoying everyone else in the house because they will not stop cackling at random animes or video games very late at night

• with Henry around, Levi really never sleeps

• and he isn't complaining, Henry quickly becomes his best bud

Satan:

• is one of the only brothers who takes an immediate liking to Henry

• he may be a bit eccentric sure, but his love for studying magic really wins Satan over

• Henry is always down for experimenting which Satan takes great joy in

• he can finally study humans like he wants to!!! And Lucifer won't stop him

• surprisingly, Satan really doesn't mind if Henry wants to do experiments on him

• his logic is Henry lets him do experiments to study humans, so it's only fair, right?

• Satan particularly enjoys experimenting with Henry's pain tolerance

• wants to find out what Henry's limit *really* is

• only because if certain schemes against Lucifer go wrong, Satan really doesn't want Henry to end up hurt

• Henry and Satan often spend the majority of their time reading together and sharing random magic knowledge/random facts in general

• Henry absolutely adores that Satan is like a walking encyclopedia

• they often hatch plans to mess with Lucifer

• not because Henry doesn't like him, he just thinks pranks are funny even if they're against one of the most powerful demons in the devildom

• Satan can't tell whether he's disturbed by it, or whether he admires Henry's lack of fear and impulse control

Asmo:

• he initially hated Henry

• he couldn't understand why Henry had such an odd fascination with blood

• what if it ruined his clothes!!!!

• Asmo tolerated Henry for a while

• until an experiment Henry did with his makeup resulted in Asmo's face turning green for a day

• Asmo screamed so loud half the devildom heard him

• he usually tries to avoid Henry now

• also does not trust any gifts Henry gives him even though Henry means well

• he genuinely wants to make it up to Asmo for ruining his makeup

• he resorts to having his crows drop off gifts in the form of makeup supplies which Asmo takes, assuming they're from Mammon

Beel:

• he's pretty indifferent to Henry in the beginning

• he finds him a little odd, but as long as Henry doesn't steal his food, this demon really doesn't care

• Henry surprisingly takes a liking to Beel, experimenting to find out what Beel will/won't eat

• Henry is both equally perplexed and ecstatic to find out that there's really nothing Beel *won't* eat

• actually, scratch that, Beel refuses to eat Henry's cooking

• it's somehow worse than Solomon's which no one thought was possible

• besides that, Beel is pretty chill with Henry

• Henry takes a surpsing liking to watching Fangol games so he always makes sure to be in the stands for any of Beel's games

• cheers him on very loudly

• Beel is very protective of this little Mage

Belphie:

• wanted absolutely nothing to do with Henry

• found him incredibly annoying and way too loud when he was just trying to sleep

• avoided him for the most part

• until he learned that Henry loves playing pranks and doling out curses

• Belphie's mind starts going wild with all the things they can do to Lucifer

• these two quickly become a menace within the HoL

• always scheming together and with Satan on their side as well, nothing is impossible for them

• Lucifer feels his blood pressure rising with each passing day

• after a particularly nasty hex, Henry and Belphie find themselves grounded in the attic

• Belphie is displeased at first, still slightly irritated with how loud Henry can get

• but then realizes that Henry makes a very comfy pillow

• Henry isn't able to move for the rest of the time they're stuck in the attic

• somewhat considers just hexing himself to turn into a pillow if Belphie is going to use him as one anyways

• Belphie says no because a pillow can't pet him and play with his hair

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #fire emblem awakening #fire emblem headcanons #obey me headcanons #fire emblem henry #fire emblem awakening henry #headcanons #creative writing #writing

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apple-grass-and-smiles · 3 years

Text

While everyone and their mother has commented on the scene from 2x10 where Dani and Malcolm talk about Gerald and his validity as a witness in the case, I have thoughts and decided I wanted to inflict them on you.

Basically, I come down on the side of neither of them really being in the wrong, but if pushed to choose someone who is most correct, it'd be Dani. I'll explain why below in the form of a list.

Some Things to Consider/Know About the Argument:

1. That I'm only calling it an argument for the sake of ease. I think a better term might be 'debate' or 'tense conversation' because while, at least from Bright's side of things, it may have the emotional weight of an argument, it likely wouldn't if a neutral third party saw it happen.

2. Both parties are entering the conversation in good faith. Dani has historically done nothing but be kind and try to be understanding of mental health as far as we've seen. There's no reason to think that anything she said was meant to be malicious. Same can be said of Bright, who is normally very happy to explain mental health issues if people aren't speaking as carefully as they should and has shown respect to Dani/Gil/JT when it came to expertise on police work.

3. Malcolm, bless his heart, is projecting SO HARD. It is a basic truth of Prodigal Son that Bright projects on people, but this is intense, even for him. It's clear from 2x09 that he is struggling not only with how his secrets are keeping him from people, but also how his mental health makes him feel like an outsider. Those emotions are heightened during this episode and then you add in Gerald who is basically Malcolm on the surface (both people who are exceptional experts in their field, who are kept from the life they want and the things they love by mental illness/shame/secrets, but desperately want to connect with the world, despite feeling they can never fit in). Therefore, when Dani talks about Gerald, Bright is assuming she thinks those things of him too and takes them personally even though we have no reason to think she means them that way or knows that that's how Bright is interpreting her words.

An edit after initial posting: I don’t blame Malcolm for projecting. It happens to everyone and he’s dealing with A Lot. However, my view of mental health is that while it limits your agency and choices, it does not relieve you of accountability. Just because Malcolm doesn’t choose the feel a connection to Gerald, doesn’t mean he’s not responsible to try and recognize that and then take a step back and remember that he and Gerald are separate people. It’s not fair that he has to do that, but it’d be equally unfair for him to expect everyone else to automatically compensate for his mental state, especially since he has not communicated to them how deeply he’s connecting with Gerald. It’s not fair or right, but sadly that’s how mental illness works in my eyes.

4. Dani and Malcolm are coming at this argument from two fundamentally different points of view. The biggest issue here is that Malcolm's background is in psychology, which is going to be more focused on health and improving the client's life, while Dani is in a police mindset, which deals with solving the case and helping people by getting the murderer off the street. Both of these views are necessary and they're why Bright is such a valuable addition to the team, but...

5. The conversation is fundamentally about Gerald in a POLICE/COURT CONTEXT. The start of this arguement is JT saying "I think we've got a problem. Let's say Clayton did murder Rosalie, could we even get Gerald to court?" and then Gil follows up with, "And if he did testify, what kind of witness would he be?" The argument stems from them needing to consider if their suspect would end up walking because their witness wouldn't be able to leave the house. Which is definitely something they should be concerned about because part of the job of law enforcement officers is making sure that your case is solid, which means your witnesses need to be as consistent as possible.

6. Context makes it clear that no one is making value judgements on Gerald's character; they're discussing if he'd be an unreliable witness. The first thing here is that being a witness, especially in a case where you'd be testifying as the sole witness of a murder, is a) stressful, b) pushes people out of their comfort zone, and c) a skill. My dad was a police officer for the first 18 years of my life, which meant he spent a lot of time in court and fundamentally, being a witness is something you get practice at. You learn how to answer questions, what lawyers are actually asking you when they say certain things, how far you can/should go in your testimony, all sorts of stuff. Gerald, to our knowledge, has never testified in court, is scared to so much as open his door, and deals with insane amounts of anxiety on a regular day where no one comes to his home. To ask him to leave his house for the first time in 14 years to go and testify at a murder trial where he would likely be brutally investigated by opposing counsel (you could very easily make a case that he's crazy/untrustworthy/unhinged because of his agoraphobia and it'd be hard to get a jury to forget those claims) would be fundamentally cruel. No one on the team, but especially Gil/Dani/JT, is in a position to give Gerald the proper emotional and legal help to make sure that he could hold up under questioning so using him as a witness would likely mean essentially throwing him to the wolves and, by extension, tossing their case. Their job is to catch the killer and if that means going in a different direction and looking for a witness who won't struggle as much in court, that's what they need to do.

7. "Agoraphobia does not make Gerald an unreliable witness." Bright is right when he says this, but Dani is also right when she indicates in the line before that Gerald does not qualify as a reliable witness. How can this be, you may be wondering? Bright is talking about being reliable as in being trustworthy. Dani is using it to mean consistent and able to hold up under pressure. Agoraphobia doesn't mean you can't trust Gerald's information or that he shouldn't be believed. However, it would make it difficult for him to meet Dani's definition of a reliable witness. That's not Gerald's fault or anyone's fault, but it is a reality of the legal system and Dani knows how to work within that system. (Bright likely does too to a certain extent, but as an FBI agent he would have been working on a federal level, while Dani would be used to state-level stuff and those are two VASTLY different arenas. Additionally, it's not entirely clear exactly how Bright's profiling cases worked out in terms of if and when he'd testify, but he mostly likely would have been testifying as an expert witness/leaning on his psychological training more than law enforcement training when he was in court.)

8. Dani calling Gerald 'messed up', 'strange', and 'cursed' is not the most tactful, but certainly not enough of an issue to throw her under the bus. First things first, 'strange' within context of what she's saying is referring to Gerald's situation, not Gerald, so I personally don't see a reason for that being an issue since it is a strange situation. Referring to someone as 'messed up' could definitely not be a great look, but I think it really comes down to personal preference. I wouldn't mind it because I know my mental illness does make me messed up at times so I don’t mind the term, but I also know people who would be hurt by that (granted, it's not exactly one of the worst things you can call someone). Really though, it’s dealer’s choice and if it hurts you, I totally get it; this is just my opinion/POV. Finally, Dani says Gerald is cursed to never leave his house and I could argue for a very long time that she's perfectly fine to say that because both in the context of the conversation and Dani's character as a whole, that comment is her trying to be empathetic and realizing that Gerald is not at fault for how he lives his life. It could be worded better, but she means well and the intention, as long as she's willing to improve her wording if it hurts people, is what matters here. She’s aware that sometimes mental illness feels like a curse and I think that wording makes it clear she doesn’t judge Gerald for his actions.

Final thoughts and TL;DR: I really don't think either party is at fault here. They both have very valid points and pretty clear reasons to think what they do. (Malcolm probably could have used a quick reminder that everyone was talking about Gerald and not him, but that's really it.) If I had to crown a "winner", Dani gets it because the conversation was always about the legal system and she's the most in the right about that issue. Malcolm had great points as well and might have “won” if this wasn’t a conversation specifically happening in the context of police work. She, like everyone, could definitely benefit from learning more about mental health and how to talk about it, but I think she has proven throughout the show that she tries to be as kind and accepting of others as she can. This was a point where she slipped up on wording, but her points were valid.

#prodigal son #dani powell #Malcolm bright #silence emily #this whole thing is just the psych student/mental illness haver side of me #meeting up with the side that knows a lot about police work through my dad #and the two sides doing battle #so if you want to know what my brain looks like #whenever I'm put in a situation where mental health and crime intersect #this is a good summary of it #complete with more words and thoughts than literally anyone wants myself included

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 3 years

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Demon Alya submission (starts off angsty, gets fluffy at the end) made by Anon

Alya hissed with pain and strained to get up, but the magic sigils which had been chalked around her blazed with a strange pale light and her body slammed back to the hard cement floor. Her tail lashed back and forth wildly, hard enough that it hurt when its tip smacked against the wall, and her wings beat futilely to break out of the iron bindings that bent then flat against her back. “You sure we can’t work this out?” she asked in the best ‘temptation’ voice she could muster despite her pain. “I can give you power, wealth, fame…”

“I need no fame, demon scum,” boomed the exorcist who had bound her. He was an older man whose hair was going silver and who wore what looked like a cross between a priest’s cassock and a military uniform. He had a sword at his side whose blade was carved with holy sigils, and a few other exorcist accoutrements hung off his belt. Now he raised a book high while his eyes, which seemed almost to be trying to bulge out of his head, fixated on her. “All I need is the knowledge that you shall be destroyed forever, as God intended!”

Alya bit back a curse. She was still mad at herself for letting this guy get the jump on her, but by the time she’d realized that she was being followed, he was close enough to use some kind of magic spell to make her pass out. She’d awoken in what looked like a cheap basement, with a cement floor and bare plaster on the walls, and with sigils and iron bonds preventing her from escaping. “You can’t destroy me forever,” she snapped. “You might be able to banish me back to Hell, but I’ll be back on Earth eventually.”

Of course, that wasn’t a great scenario for Alya. Not only would she get in trouble for losing a fight with an exorcist, and not only would she fall behind on her soul quota, but her classmates wouldn’t know where she’d gone. It would be just like she’d abandoned them. And Alya couldn’t bear to think of how sad Juleka would be if Alya cut and run, or the rest of her cult, or… or Marinette. Alya knew Marinette would be devastated, and she desperately wanted that not to happen, but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

Then the man laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little depraved beast? You’d love to be able to turn and wreck havoc once more. But I’ve found a way around it!” He tossed a little voodoo doll next to Alya. “I will bind your spiritual essence to this doll, then burn it. As the doll crumbles in the flame your spiritual essence will be split asunder. When I’m done you’ll be little more than millions of tiny bits of demon, each tied to a tiny bit of ash, and that ash scattered to the winds.” He grinned. “It could take thousands of years for the bindings to weaken enough for you to reconstitute yourself and even begin trying to regain a corporal form. And seeing as how you’ll be in utter agony the entire time, I highly doubt you’ll be sane enough to tempt any more innocents into your clutches!”

Alya gasped. What the man proposed might actually work, and would subject her to millennia of torture. And worse than that… by the time she put herself back together, her classmates would have been dead for millennia. She’d never see them again unless they went to Hell. And she’d never see Marinette, period, because that girl was so pure she’d surely get rushed right to Heaven the moment she died.

She’d never see her best friend again.

“You can’t do this!” Alya said, almost ashamed of how terrified her voice was but not being able to help it. “Please!”

“Silence, demon scum,” said the exorcist. “All your kind deserve this.” He began to chant, and Alya cried out in pain as she felt her essence being pulled towards the doll. She tried to fight it—

And then the door to the basement smashed open.

By the time Alya realized what was happening, she saw Rose—holding a flaming sword, wings spread to their full length, halo blazing such a righteous fire above her head that Alya could barely look at it—looming over the man, whom had been knocked into the wall and slid down. “YOU DON’T DO THIS!” screamed Rose in genuine rage. “EVER!”

The man stared at Rose in terrified shock. Rose glared at him, then turned to Alya and swung her sword at the sigils. They burst into a bright flash of light and vanished as soon as her holy blade touched them, and Alya was able to scrambled out of the former circle. A couple quick, careful strokes of Rose’s sword sliced the iron bindings from Alya’s back, and she sighed with relief as she stretched her wings.

“What are you doing?“ the man demanded. “Don’t free her! You are an angel, you must support our battles against demons. They are evil beasts who tempt others, so it is right that we hurt them! That we banish them and make them suffer all the pain they have inflicted—“

“IT IS NOT YOURS TO JUDGE!” screamed Rose loud enough that the man flinched back. She took an angry breath and said, “If a demon is doing something bad, then it is permissible to oppose that demon. I have opposed demons who were about to hurt or damn someone. But Alya was doing nothing, and even if she was, ‘opposing’ does not mean ‘torturing!’” She took a step closer and raised her sword. “The job of a holy warrior is never to inflict pain for the sake of doing so! To never do more damage than necessary to fight evil, to always show mercy where possible and encourage others to repent!” The fire on her blade blazed higher. “YOU ARE NO PALADIN!” she went on, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “YOU ARE JUST A KILLER, AND—“

Alya hesitated, feeling on one hand that she really wanted to see this guy get absolutely thrashed by Rose, but knowing on the other she had an obligation to her friend. “Woah, woah, hold it,” said Alya as she quickly grabbed Rose’s hand to stop her from stabbing the exorcist. “He’s defeated, okay? You don’t need to kill him.”

“But he tried to kill you!” Rose said through teary-eyes. “You’re one of my best friends—“

“And I’m here to remind you that the stuff you said about you guys not being supposed to do more damage than needed applies to you too.” Alya bit her lip and looked at the exorcist who was now trembling with fear, his glee at his earlier successful tortures of Alya having seemingly already been forgotten. “Look, Rose, even if you can get away with killing the guy and not Fall or be stripped of your angelic status, you’ll still hate yourself for it tomorrow.”

The exorcist stared at Alya with bewildered eyes. “You are a demon!” he rasped. “You want her to Fall! I know it! All demons want angels to Fall!”

Alya frowned. “She’s my friend,” she snapped. “That’s more important the feud between our bosses.”

Rose was still standing with her blade raised. “But he hurt you,” she whispered. “You’re wonderful, and he hurt you, and I can’t just let that go.”

“Who said anything about letting it go?” Alya said. “Like, he tried to torture me to death. That’s really evil, so I’m pretty sure his soul’ll go to us when he dies, and that means we’ll have all eternity to get back at him.” Unless he repented and went to Heaven in the end, Alya thought, and if he did… well, that would be a bummer. She really wanted to get her claws at this guy. But she’d rather let this guy have that chance than have Rose kill him right there and suffer regret for it every day after for all her eternal life. “And even setting that aside, I can get the guy in jail with my Whisper powers. That way we know he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Rose was still hesitating, so Alya gently helped her lower the sword. “He’s not worth it,” she said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Finally, still trembling with rage and sorrow, Rose let Alya escort her out of the basement.

###

It only took Alya about ten minutes to jail the guy. She was quite skilled with Whisper, the power of demons to, well, whisper evil or hurtful thoughts into the minds of unsuspecting mortals. During her training she had learned how to convince humans that everyone hated them and was only pretending to befriend them out of pity, or that their spouse was cheating on them, or that—whatever the priest at church said—they really had done something beyond forgiveness and so might as well go forth and sin some more.

Now, though, Alya used that power to Whisper into the fanatic’s head. “There are demons everywhere!” she whispered. “In that trash can! On that curb! On top of that police car! If you don’t fight them, they’ll destroy Paris!”

The fanatic raved and ran around, swinging his sword wildly at the demons his mind convinced him were all around him. That, of course, led to police officers swarming and tackling him. Alya smiled as she watched Roger Raincomprix bundle him into his police car and take him away, saying something about asylums and institutionalization. “He won’t be bothering anyone ever again,” she said. Then she turned to Rose. “How did you find me?”

“You didn’t show up for that thing you were doing with Juleka,” Rose said. Both girls were hiding their spiritual forms and looked fully human, but Alya got the sense that if Rose’s wings had been visible they would have been curling around her like a cocoon. “She got worried and used a spell from your library to track you down. I was closer so I got to your first, but she’ll probably be here soon too.”

“I should text her to let her know I’m alright,” Alya noted. She took her phone, which the fanatic had left in a corner of the basement and which Alya had reclaimed, and sent a message to Juleka. “Want to get home?”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya frowned. “Don’t beat yourself up over losing your temper,” she said. “It happens to all of us.”

“Sure.” Rose shrugged. “Uh huh.”

Alya paused. Clearly, she thought, Rose needed more help. And now that Alya was out of her bonds and was back in action, she was just the girl to help her. “Anyways, I’m going back to my place, and you’re coming too,” she announced.

Rose blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said, we’re going to my place,” Alya announced. “Come on, Rose. You saved my life and I owe you one. Let’s get going.”

Rose clearly didn’t know what was going on, but she smiled a little and let herself be dragged along.

###

When the pair got back to Alya’s apartment, they dropped their guises and Alya sighed as she flopped back in her bed. “I never thought I’d see this bed again,” she murmured. “I didn’t think I’d see you, or Juleka, or… or Marinette again either.” She shut her eyes, knowing how badly she would have been hurt to never see the adorable fashion designer, and also knowing how much pain Marinette would have been in if Alya had just vanished. “Thank you again, Rose.”

Rose nodded weakly.

Alya got Rose over to the couch and settled down with her. “Why are you still sad?” she asked.

Rose hesitated, and Alya said, “If you don’t want to share it with me, that’s fine. We can just rest here; I’ll put on some cartoons or something until we both feel better. But if you’re sad, you can talk to me.”

It took a few moments for Rose to say something, during which time she slumped over and snuggled against Alya. One of her wings tickled Alya’s nose and she sneezed, which made Rose giggle. Then Rose cuddled deeper against Alya and said, “Am I a bad angel?”

“No way!” Alya said. “You’re awesome at what you do, and I’m saying that even though what you do makes it harder to me to tempt souls a lot of the time.”

Rose smiled at that. “But I almost didn’t save you,” she said. “And I almost murdered that guy after he was already defeated.”

“You did save me in the end, which is what counts,” Alya said. “You did your job. And while you got mad at the fanatic, you didn’t kill him.” She paused. “We’ve never had an all-out fight, so I can’t say for sure what would have happened if you’d tried to break my grip and kill the guy, but based on what I know of you I think you could probably have thrown me aside and killed the fanatic if you really wanted to do so. You didn’t, so you knew on some level killing him was wrong.”

“Right, but I still want him to suffer for what he did to you,” said Rose. “And I’m not supposed to. Angels aren’t supposed to hate, even when we’re fighting evil.”

“I’m not exactly an expert on what you guys believe,” Alya said slowly. “Since we demons and devils have a different system. But I think I read somewhere that your boss is really big on forgiveness and understands that everyone screws up sometimes. I don’t think He’d want you beating yourself up like this, and I think He’d be satisfied with how you saved the victim—me—and didn’t do any more damage to the guy once he wasn’t a threat anymore.”

Rose mulled that over for a few moments. “You really think so?”

“Sure,” said Alya. “Besides, any God who would get mad at you over—what, yelling a bit after stopping a torturer?—wouldn’t be a God worth worshipping.”

“Don’t say that about God,” murmured Rose, but she sounded a lot calmer. “That makes sense, though. Thanks, Alya.”

“Happy to help.” Alya gingerly scratched at the base of Rose’s wings, and she sighed in contentment.

“You know,” said Rose after a few moments of that, “You’d make a good angel.”

Alya jolted in shock at that, and Rose laughed. “Don’t say that!” Alya feebly protested. “Seriously, I—I would not want that job. I don’t like the idea that I’d have to be nice all the time because my boss demanded it. I like what I am, where I have the freedom to be how I want.” She realized she was blushing and tried to make herself stop. “Besides, I’m not that nice in general,” she went on. “You’re an exception.”

“Nah,” said Rose. “You’re nice. If you wanted to be an angel you’d be great at it.” She chuckled, and then she asked, “But I’m curious about one thing. That guy said that demons want angels to Fall, but you worked really hard to stop me from Falling today. Was that just because we’re friends, or do you oppose angels falling in general?”

Alya didn’t know why, but she was blushing again. “Uh,” she began. “Look, I’m all about freedom. That’s why I like my side of things in the first place. I think you should have freedom too, and if I thought you really, truly wanted to Fall, then I would offer my help to you—you know, finding some sin for you to commit that wouldn’t do anything too bad or hurt anyone you didn’t want to suffer—so you could live as you wished. But I know you, and I know that in your heart you don’t want to do anything so bad that you Fall. You like being a holy angel warrior for God. You love being able to spread blessings and help usher souls into eternal bliss. And if that’s your choice, I want to help you maintain it. Because we’re friends.”

The idea of friendship was still a new one to Alya, who of course came from a place where there was no such thing as friendship, where everyone was out for themselves and anyone dumb enough to admit to weakness would find that weakness mercilessly exploited by classmates, neighbors, and random strangers. But now that she was in the human world, she had friends, and she found that she liked it. (Granted, she had to keep her friendships hidden from her bosses—especially her friendship with Rose—but she was a demon and deceit came naturally to her, so that wasn’t too hard.)

Rose smiled gently. “I’m glad we’re friends,” she said.

The two stayed still for a few moments before Rose reluctantly raised herself up. “I guess I should go,” she said. “I’m sure you and Juleka need to do whatever you were planning on doing before you got abducted.”

“We were just planning on watching some fun anime and having some snacks,” said Alya. Then, as if on cue, she heard a knock on the door and grinned. “It’s open!” she called. Then she turned to Rose and said, “When I texted her earlier, I told her to get back to my place so we could resume our plans. That must be her now.”

Rose tried to get up, but Alya wrapped her tail around Rose and tugged her back down. “I don’t want to get in the way,” Rose said quickly. “I’ll leave.”

“No, you’ll join us,” corrected Alya. “Because this is my room, so I can invite who I want, and I want you here. Because this is my cult, so Juleka has to do what I say, and I say you get to stay.” Her eyes twinkled. “And because I know you and Juleka love spending time together, and so since you also had kind of a rough day, a little time with your favorite paladin and my favorite priestess is just what Dr. Alya ordered.”

Rose grinned at that.

Then Juleka entered the room carrying a bag. As soon as her gaze fell upon Rose she smiled brightly, and Rose returned that smile. “Alright,” Juleka said. “I’ve got the DVD for that anime you told me to find, ‘Kill La Kill,’ and your snacks.” She took some cups out of the bag. “Three hot chocolates—one with cinnamon, because I know that’s your favorite, Rose—some microwave popcorn, and pastries from the Dupain-Cheng bakery.” She paused. “Marinette told me she’ll be free in an hour or so. Would you want me to invite her?”

“Sure!” said Alya at once. She’d have to hide her demon form once Marinette arrived, of course, but it would be worth it to hang out with the fashion designer. Marinette always seemed to brighten up any room. “And thanks for helping Rose save me with the tracking spell. I owe you one.”

Juleka waved that off. “It’s a friend thing,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Such a sentence was something Alya would never, ever have heard in the demon world. Debts there were jealously maintained. But she liked this way, she found… even if she did intend on finding some way to reward Juleka for saving her life. “Sure,” she said to change the subject. “But I still appreciate it. Anyway, what kind of pastries did you get?”

“Angel food cake for Rose, lemon cake for me, and chili-chocolate cake for you,” said Juleka as she passed out the treats. Rose sniffed her cake and sighed at how wonderful it smelled. “I’ll pop in the DVD and then we can start the show.”

Juleka did so and then sat on Rose’s other side. Rose grinned and spread her wings wide enough to give partial hugs to both Alya and Juleka, and Alya’s tail flicked a bit before running against the other two girls’ backs. Rose giggled. “That tickles!” she said.

“Sorry,” drawled Alya. She bit into the delicious cake and grinned. Chili and chocolate was a hard combination to get right, but the Dupain-Cheng family were masters, and the cake was absolutely perfect. “My bad.”

“You’re not sorry,” said Juleka lightly. “That’s a lie.”

“Well, lying’s a sin,” chirped Alya. “And as a demon, that’s kind of my thing.”

Both of the other girls laughed, and then Rose draped her arms as well as her wings around the other two. Juleka hit the button on the remote and the show started.

Alya sighed, her pains from earlier almost completely forgotten as she relaxed with her friends. The human world was good, she thought. She was very glad she hadn’t been kicked out of it. And she’d try to stay in it—and be with the people she cared about, including the wonderful angel and the amazing human currently sitting on her couch—for as long as she could.

———

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

GO ROSE

I like how its been decided that between Rose and Alya theres a bad cop and good cop dynamic going on

Alya is the good cop

#submission #demon alya au

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mybg3notebook · 3 years

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Astarion Analysis Summary

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were made up to the game version v4.1.101.4425. As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information.

This will be a summarasing analysis integrating most of the main characteristics shown and proven in the post (Astarion Analysis)

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in (post)

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

Alignments are usually a topic of discussion since characters can be so complicated, that they are hard to put in some place on the spectrum. However, for Astarion’s case, it’s clear that he is an Evil-aligned character, like Shadowheart and Lae’Zel. Whether he lies on a Chaotic side or a Neutral one is a bit less important (personally, I believe this small shift is the most you will be able to change Astarion through the main game, but I will explain that in another post Astarion and Power -Part 2).

What is most important is to understand that we are analysing an Evil char, so his personality will lay in the negative characteristics. He likes all degrees of cruelty [3,6], violence [2, 13], and murder [2], having a particular taste for animal cruelty [4]. He finds this cruelty funny.

When it comes to animal cruelty, he has a broader concept of what’s animal than most Tavs would consider: he includes kobolds, goblins, and gnomes as such [5]. So all the cruelty upon them would be labelled, for his standards, as “animal” cruelty. This is why I specify he has a particular taste for this type of cruelty: he doesn’t only enjoy the death and torment of animals, but also of races he considers as such [5].

He has many racial biases [5] (hardly any char in Forgotten Realm lacks them): he only sees valuable elves and some humans (not all, since he despises the Gur) probably as a consequence of his backstory. Let’s remember that a group of Gur put him at death's door, forcing him into accepting Cazador's proposition. However, it’s also important to keep in mind he put himself in that situation with his corrupted magistrate role as a mortal (Swen’s interview).

He supports the most common biases about Tieflings and Gurs [5], and mocks halfling and Dwarven Tavs. He sees goblins, kobolds and gnomes as animals. Probably the list is broader, since all this information is what's present in the EA game at the moment.

Astarion as a character has a play of concepts with the duality animal/owner [14]. He speaks about choice as the element that separates animals from humanoids. Animals react out of instinct, thinking creatures choose to act. This speech doesn’t end with him claiming choice but being an animal desiring to kill. If in any other instance he would show a hint of empathy, one would be inclined to think his character is about the overwhelming reactions of a wounded animal installed by the abuse. But I hardly see it like that. He was twisted before turning into a vampire.

As such, he speaks about “survival instinct” [14]. With the little we see and can read in his approvals and disapprovals, he is looking for acceptance from Tav about his vampire nature, for the sake of survival. This character is an extreme survivalist. Astarion would care nothing about endangering or even killing innocent people to guarantee his survival. Once more, we see in the way he speaks about survival, the constant repetition of the symbol of “animal”.

He is greedy [1], no matter if what he gains is little or not; as long as it gives him a small reward (he hates to help for free), or if it causes pain, torment, or the death of the person he is interacting with, it’s enough. If Astarion doesn’t have a radical change in his background, we can be assured this greed comes from his past mortal life, when he was a corrupt magister to the point to double sell criminals to a local vampire lord and to slavers.

Manipulation [7]is the main characteristic in him. His words and mannerisms change as the game progresses, playing with the tones and the half-truth/lies he keeps saying. During his first interactions with Tav, Astarion is very careful in sharing his opinion about the events, —his judgements are always vague—while he tries to appraise Tav. This can be easily seen when he has no opinion about Kagha’s snake killing Arabella and playing an obvious mind game to Tav. For further detail check (Astarion and his Standards).

He is sometimes considered a prankster [3], but I prefer to call him Evil Trickster (pretty much like Shadowheart, who has trickster domain as cleric) who enjoys pranks to a higher degree of torment, ending sometimes with the death of the person in question. He enjoys, following this Trickster nature, the humiliation of people in general and outsmarting small people in particular [6]. He is aware that outsmarting powerful ones can bring consequences hard to deal with [7] (as he warns when Tav thinks about outsmarting Raphael), but applying all these torments to weak people is inconsequential, and therefore, enjoyable for him without risks.

We already stated that he enjoys the suffering of people [2,3], but he has a particular taste for the torment of the weakest ones [6]. The root of this pleasure for humiliating weak creatures comes from his desire for power. Astarion is a char deeply related to power [11], not as a goal itself (not power for the sake of power), but as a means to obtain revenge, and in the process, become a Master. I will analyse this aspect in another post (Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2).

However, I think it’s worth noting that Astarion’s descriptions of Cazador reflect not only his need for power but also his desire for that kind of power applied in a similar goal. Astarion despises Cazador’s obsession for power, but he has little problem to aspire to it. The obsession with any kind of power, especially the one given by the tadpoles which bend the will of people (mind control) [11], his paranoia, his constant desire to become master [14], his pleasure in cruelty and humiliation [2,3,4,6]… all these characteristics are very descriptive of Astarion too. Cazador and Astarion seem to be each other’s mirrors ( for more details check post Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2). .

Despite hating to be involved in anyone else's problems [9], he encourages and supports most acts of revenge [8,16], especially the ones against figures that can be interpreted as master. This will occur if and only if Astarion perceives the victim of such a master as a strong and resilient creature worth the trouble, i.e. Karlach [16].

He enjoys most Intimidation options you can pick [13], since they can result in the humiliation of a certain NPC, as a demonstration of power, or simply as elements for tormenting NPCs that would lead to murderous situations which are “funny” shows for Astarion. In general, most intimidation tags will be approved by him, except the ones that could be used to defuse violent outcomes.

All these evil pleasures can be considered as “the result” of turning into a vampire, but if we stick to what Swen has explained during the first demonstrations of the game and interviews before the release of EA, we know Astarion has been an Evil character during his mortal life. He was a corrupt magistrate in Baldur’s Gate, who fed the local coven of vampires with criminals. Being greedy, and trying to bite more than he knew he could chew, he sold this food into slavery to earn more money. As a consequence (directly or plotted by Cazador, we don’t know) he was attacked by a group of Gurs who almost beat him to death. Cazador appeared soon afterwards to grant him immortality with the curse of Vampirism. As we can see, he is not better than he was when he was a mortal elf.

A deeper relationship with concepts such as power, abuse, and victim will be explained in another post ( Astarion and Power-part 2). From Astarion’s brief background we can see that he has been an abuser in his mortal life. Due to his own actions, Cazador grasped him into his power and inflicted torment, humiliation, and violence of many kinds, for two centuries, twisting his personality into evilness even more than before (we also need to remember that not only torture may have twisted his personality, vampirism via Dark Desires causes a natural perversion of the persona as well). He now aspires to become more powerful, a reflection of Cazador himself, as a way to acquire his freedom. He wants power to be free [7, 11, 13, 14], and the power of mind-controlling others excites him [10,11] to no end, ignoring completely the cognitive dissonance of his own mind as an ex slave [12]. Although he suffered slavery in his own flesh, he is pretty apathetic (or even supports) slavery [10]. Some players may understand his narration of Cazador’s torments as a means to manipulate Tav, others, as a self-dismissal of his own traumatic experiences.

His story seems to narrate the story of an abuser who found a greater abuser and became a victim of the latter, seeking to return to a stronger power position (the greatest vampire of the world—description in Larian web page—). Despite suffering this abuse, that could be understood as poetic justice to certain degree, he never developed empathy for those sharing his condition. He cares little when he sees others in the same situations he had been ( for more details check post (Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2).

Some fans see that Astarion detests slavery, and he is just putting a show of a thick-skinned survivor, pretending that it does not affect him. I can’t see it with all what we see in EA. This “supposed” repulsive emotion should be a matter of narrative (we should see it in clear approvals or disapprovals as meta-knowledge), not a baseless imagination/wish of the player. We know that there are hundreds of resources to show hidden emotions in characters. Remorse or a desire to improve can be perfectly shown without being explicit, even when he may not be conscious of them. We can see how this is managed with Shadowheart, and we know there is something going on under her cruelty despite knowing little about herself (she knows less of her past and still yet we manage to see some degrees of goodness in her despite her evil inclinations).

So I don’t believe that Astarion has some remorse going on, because if it were the case, it has not been shown in any scene so far. To me, it makes much more sense for him to develop as a full evil character inside the spectrum of evilness. After all, and following the tradition of the mechanics seen in BG1 and BG2, a redemption arc of an evil char of this magnitude makes little sense (We can remember Edwin,Dorn Il-Khan, Sarevok Anchev, Viconia DeVir, Baeloth Barrityl, Xzar, or Hexxat, all evil chars whose development was always inside their evilness or showed, in few cases, a slight shift of it). But further details and reflections will be addressed in another post (Astarion and Power part 1/ part 2).

As a last detail, we can or cannot believe his statement of having lost his memories (he can perfectly claim it to hide his evil past from the main character to have a better manipulation of Tav) but considering Larian has kept most of the DnD vampire characteristics, I would like to bring awareness of a particular vampiric effect named Dark Desires (here). It’s the twistessness of the mortal-desires, which due to the fact that Astarion’s had always been dark, changed little with his vampiric nature, or just deepened in its perversion, and may cause sometimes the loss of memories (he was greedy and cruel before, now he stays the same, but darker and morbider.)

In short we can summarise Astarion as a moral bankrupt narcissist, a survivalist no matter the cost, a power-hungry character who wants to bend people’s will. He uses manipulation as his main tool, and enjoys violence, murder, and humiliation. Despite his slave past, he enoys acts of cruelty and torture on innocent or weak creatures. All his actions and words seem to ominously display a similarity with Cazador, as if his fate is to become the next Cazador.

This post was written on April 2021. → For more Astarion: Analysis Series Index

#astarion #bg3 early access #bg3 meta

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kickingitwithkirk · 3 years

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I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I chant this mantra over and over to myself.

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible.

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well.

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love.

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over.

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat.

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do.

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking.

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok.

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep.

“Balls!”

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water.

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch.

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night.

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me.

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in.

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching.

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light.

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear.

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby.

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound.

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us.

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

#jensmakemecrychallange #alpha!sam Winchester x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #Sam Winchester #SPN Supernatural #SUPERNATURAL AU #supernatural a/b/o #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #angst

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