#or maybe even just as a ghostly companion only he sees
Note
Once upon a time in the quaint village, there lived a young mail courier. He was known for his unwavering dedication to his job, delivering letters and packages with a smile to every doorstep. One day, an urgent message arrived at the village, instructing him to embark on a long journey to a distant town where a crucial post office awaited.
The mail he carried was no ordinary mail; it held the hopes and dreams of the villagers, connecting loved ones and spreading joy. The journey to the post office was not an easy one, as it spanned through vast meadows, dense forests, and treacherous mountains. However, he was determined to fulfill his duty, knowing that the letters in his bag held significant meaning to the recipients.
With a firm resolve, he bid farewell to his family and set off at the crack of dawn, his loyal horse carrying him through the countryside. Along the way, the courier encountered various challenges, from wild storms that soaked him to the bone to a broken bridge that forced him to find an alternative path.
As the days turned into weeks, he faced moments of doubt, but he never faltered. The thought of the smiles on people's faces when they received their letters and packages kept him going. Each night, he would rest under the starlit sky, reading letters from his own family for encouragement.
On his journey, he met fellow travelers who shared their own tales of hope and love, making him realize the profound impact his job had on connecting people's lives. With newfound determination, he pressed on, even through the darkest of nights and the coldest of days.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sight of the town appeared on the horizon. Exhausted but elated, the courier and his horse made their way through the bustling streets, guided by the townsfolk who welcomed them warmly.
The post office in the town was a grand building with ornate architecture, a symbol of communication and unity. As he entered, he handed over the carefully protected mail, knowing the importance of each letter entrusted to him. The postmaster was grateful for his perseverance and dedication, acknowledging the role he played in bringing happiness to so many.
In one of the letters is said: "what would happen if Desmond can turn into Eren's founding Titan form? Doesn't have to be an aot au. I bet it would be very funny lmao XD"
Alright, let’s talk about how we can do this. So we’ll give Desmond the Founding Titan’s powers but keep him in the AC world. (unless someone wants an AOT AU or a Desmond get isekai’ed to the AOT world AU)
So, first, let’s clarify what the Founding Titan’s powers would be now that there’s actually no… you know… Titan in AC (have spoilers for AOT, I guess):
The Founding Titan can create and control other Titans who are Subjects of Ymir. In this idea, you might think that means Desmond should be able to control those with Isu blood but I suggest a different idea: Desmond would be able to control humans in general but the more Isu blood one has, the harder it is to control them. (We’ll get to why we’re changing it this way in a bit). As for the creation part, since we’re not giving Desmond the ability to create Titan (I mean, we could), we’ll make him able to create ‘monsters’ instead. To be more specific: he can manipulate human genes and change them to whatever he liked, although it might be easier for him to change them lightly (like perhaps giving them the ability to access Eagle Vision) or to keep them more human-like (like say… a minotaur or a gorgon or a werewolf… if you catch my drift). This will also be the equivalent of the Founding Titan’s ability to change the body of the Subjects of Ymir (which, when you think about it, Titan creation is a subset of this ability anyway).
The Founding Titan can manipulate memories of the Subjects of Ymir. This means Desmond would be able to change or add or even remove memories of humans, even going as far as give them fake memories if need be.
The Founding Titan can telepathically communicate with Subjects of Ymir so I guess we’re giving Desmond telepathy as well.
The Founding Titan has the ability can influence the past in some way but it cannot completely change the past. It’s a bit complicated so we’ll set this up different with Desmond using one specific device: The Animus.
Of course the Founding Titan can only be used completely by those with royal blood so we’re making Desmond’s Isu ancestor be one of the Titan children of Gaia and Uranus. We actually have two main candidates: Iapetus whose sons were called mankind’s ancestors and we’ll translate it to Iapetus’ children being one of the Isus who helped humans during the war, turning their backs against their fellow Isus. Perhaps one of Adam and Eve’s children would marry one of Iapetus’ sons in this scenario. Another candidate is Hyperion who fathered the three children and lights of the heaven: Helios, Selene and Eos. Of course, we’ll pick Helios as Desmond’s ancestor to further twist the knife of Desmond dying from the solar flare or, if you want to be kind to him, we’ll give him Eos as a symbol of an upcoming dawn.
Now that’s done, we’ll talk about why those abilities might sound familiar…
They’re all ‘powers’ that Kassandra actually sees during her travels. To be more specific, she encountered mystical beings being controlled by Isu artifacts (that may or may not be Apple, we’re not completely certain that the Apple was able to change them or if they’re being used to simply control them after their change, the human experiments of Juno and Aita in Atlantis would point at the latter) which means that Desmond’s Founding Titan powers are powers that Juno and Aita were trying to recreate.
This is why Desmond’s Isu ancestor being Iapetus makes more sense because all of his powers are to subjugate and control humans, not Isus.
And then we come to the power to change the past which isn’t something that Desmond could actually do until he comes in contact with the Animus.
To be more exact, the Animus used by Vidic still holds the POE that he had used to develop the Animus in the first place because it was the prototype. The POE reacted to his Founding abilities that had been dormant until he got into the Animus.
And this is how Desmond would be able to change the past.
By connecting to his own genes, he’s able to contact and even control to a certain degree the actions of the people who share the same Iapetus genes as him.
However, we come to a certain… shall we say ‘snag’ in this idea.
Because Desmond has two different bloodlines that, as far as we know, does not intersect.
Altaïr’s bloodline that comes from his mother and the Auditore-Kenway bloodline that came from William Miles.
This means that we have to choose who would carry the Iapetus bloodline. Of course, it’s me, so you know I’m going to suggest Altaïr but I have another reason other than the fact that I will always choose Altaïr given a choice.
Altaïr is someone willing to make a deal with Desmond in exchange for the safety and happiness of his family. Once Desmond learned of the truth of Altaïr’s future, he could use the Founding Titan’s power to contact Altaïr and to help him change the past in exchange to being Desmond’s ‘prophet’. Using the Founding Titan’s ability to change human composition, Desmond could change Altaïr to be immortal until all their work is finish and Altaïr would agree to it. Desmond’s connection to Altaïr would give Desmond a direct way to change the past, slowly unraveling the entire road that the Isus wished him to walk.
The path that would end with a noose tied to his neck as the sun burns him away.
And, of course, we have the Founder Ymir being the ‘helper’ of the one who holds the Founding Titan.
And who else will we pick but the Reader?
The Reader who can see the past, present and future thanks to the Calculations but unable to change anything without a ‘master’ to command him.
And the truth was…
The Reader was able to tweak it.
There was a split second when Desmond Miles was able to use his Founding Titan powers.
But it wasn’t when he was first put in the Animus.
No.
It was when he used the device in the Grand Temple to save the world.
In that split second…
The Reader used that time to manipulate Desmond to making him order him.
“I want to live.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Please… someone… save me.”
He used Desmond’s desperation to live to set everything into motion. He changed the past just enough for Vidic to make the prototype have the POE, making him believe this was the best way to get clearer and more stable memories.
And from that…
The Reader set the third loop.
.
.
Just to clarify:
The first loop: AC canon with the Reader coming to existence
The second loop: Desmond Miles manages to awaken his Founding Titan power when he’s about to die and the Reader used that to change just enough things to make the third loop.
The third loop: the current loop with Desmond awakening his Founding Titan power during his first Animus session and, later on, making a deal with Altaïr to change the past using Altaïr as his ‘spokesperson’.
==== For the Alchemist Section ====
The mail courier’s perseverance traveled as far as his mail and it was now up to the local courier to make sure it arrived in its proper destination safe and sound.
Their little village rarely received mails before the alchemist took residence in the abandoned house up the hill and it had become part of his daily job to bring new mails and take the alchemist’s daily shipment but…
Things had been hectic around these parts. Harvest season was upon them and they had been so busy these past three months because of it. He knew that the mails were being delivered much later than usual but they haven’t heard a complaint just yet which was nice, especially with the heavy rainfall they’ve been getting lately. Everyone was quite worried for their corps.
Still, it was up to him to make sure he was able to deliver the ones that do manage to get to their village and send the ones the alchemist was able to finish in the midst of them helping with the preparations for harvest season.
But…
The chimney’s smoke was red.
The kind of red that reminded him of blood.
The alchemist made the weirdest things whenever they feel like it. The moving clay doll last month was one of them.
So…
He took a deep breath and prepared to knock on the door-
Only to gasp when he smelled the smoke.
It was because he was too close to the house. Even if the smoke was coming out of the chimney and dispersing into the air, it was still quite close.
His body…
… feels so hot right now.
He fell on his knees and began to pant, the heat seemingly coiling all over his body distracting him from the creaking sound the front door always make.
Then…
He felt cold air hit him like a puff of smoke.
And the heat disappeared.
Leaving only embarrassment with the way his body had reacted.
It was like…
“Sorry about that.”
He raised his head and…
… came face to face with a complete hazmat suit that covered the alchemist from head to toe. The only reason why he even know it was the alchemist because of the white and red butterfly brooch that they had always worn, now adorning the helmet of their hazmat suit like it was a hairpin.
“It would be better if you stay by the fence and shout instead. I’ll take my mail and give you my deliveries instead.”
The alchemist made a motion with their hand and he weakly stood, using his courier standard bag to hide his shame as he handed the alchemist the mails he had received today.
“Uuuhh… is it…” He looked behind the alchemist and the entire house looked alright from what he could see.
“It’s just for this week. This week’s…” The alchemist paused for a moment before adding, “… No. Next Monday’s quite special, I suppose.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll have this done later this evening. Please come back by then instead.” The alchemist requested and he nodded.
“Alright. I’ll see you later then.”
With that said, the alchemist closed the door, leaving the courier unable to ask…
If they actually did not see his shame or if…
They simply didn’t care?
#oh man#i guess this is sorta like#desmond appearing to altaïr in dreams and such#or maybe even just as a ghostly companion only he sees#and altaïr changing the past#i tried adding the alchemist's section at the bottom this time around#let me know if you want the alchemist sections before the answer or after#ngl i was tempted to give the courier a dog#because of bg3’s scratch#but i didn’t because#the alchemist would have gone ‘dog!’ and derailed the entire thing by petting the dog#assassin's creed#desmond miles#altaïr ibn la'ahad#ask and answer#teecup writes/has a plot#fic idea: assassin's creed#uuuhhh#imma not tag aot unless someone wants a full blown crossover#first fe now aot#it's like “hey remember your old fandoms teecup???”
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hide and seek with yan!jungkook except reader is in trouble and if he finds you, let’s just say she won’t be walking the next day. dub con + fear kink + degradation + dacryphilia? (loves seeing her cry idk if you want to add that)
this might be a little different from what you imagined? and I'm a few hours late but happy halloween 🎃
pairing: jungkook x reader
genre: strangers to lovers
warnings: where do I begin? mentions of smoking, manipulation, corruption, allusions to kidnapping and stockholm syndrome, dub con, fear kink (including threats of violence), choking, manhandling, degradation, dacryphilia, rough sex, creampie, and aftercare
"Oh baby," he sighed as he threw down his cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot. "You are so fucking predictable."
Slowly, as if time didn't exist for him, he stepped onto the rundown porch, disappearing from your sight. For you time seemed to be running out, the haunting ticking of the old grandfather clock almost taunting you.
You backed away into the thick shadows of the room, your feet careful on the creaky, wooden floorboards. You reached for the doorknob behind you and opened the antique wardrobe, paying no mind to the cobwebs in the corners as you walked inside and shut the door.
If you would have seen this house a few months ago, it would have frightened you. Abandoned and hollow, layered with dust and echoes of ghostly memories. But since you met Jungkook you've learned to make friends with the things in the shadows. The darkness that swallowed you up here was exactly what you needed. It didn't matter if you entered a beast's layer. The beast waiting for you outside was much worse.
You could hear the front door opening downstairs, heavy footsteps trudging forward. You crouched down and forced your mouth to stay shut, no matter how hard it was to breathe. No matter how stale the air, or how bad the anxiety that gripped your throat. Hide and seek was a silent game; you didn't want to know the consequences for breaking the rules.
But somehow, the silence was worse. You could hear the rattle of your heart in your chest, like windows and shutters blown open by a violent wind. You could hear Jungkook's weight making the stairs creak, an unsettling melody that pulsed through your skull. Was there no part of you that he didn't hold in the palm of his hand? No part of your body and soul that hasn't been scratched and marked by his claws?
"You can keep running, baby," his voice rang through the building, sweet and low, like a lullaby. "But you're only running from yourself."
You covered your ears, trying to push the words out of your mind, trying to ignore the fact that his footsteps were getting louder, clearer. How long would it take him to find you?
A sudden gust of hopelessness made you shudder, your eyes burning. Your feet were sore from running. You've spent hours combing through an endless ocean of trees, trying to drown yourself in its cold grip, looking for at least a drop of civilization. Anytime you thought you lost him, you heard him call your name. It echoed through the night, echoed through your bones. When the tiredness began to settle in, it was hard not to accept the fact that even though Jungkook was a monster, he was not a liar. There was no one around to help you. Not for miles. He knew exactly what he was doing when he dragged you to the middle of nowhere.
The moon high up in the sky was your only companion, and you stared at it for too long, with a resentment that made you burn. Was god not supposed to be up there? Did he really abandon his children and let demons roam free?
Maybe he never existed.
You wished you could say that made you feel alone. But Jungkook's presence was like a bony hand crawling up and down your spine. Just when you thought you could walk free, the earth bellow you opened up, and he was right there to drag you under.
"Where are you, sweetheart?" He cooed, his footsteps pausing at the top of the stairs.
You shut your eyes. You could hear more creaking as he stalked through the different rooms. The feeling of hopelessness magnified into despair, completely eclipsing your heart.
This house was your last chance. You managed to escape his shackles only to end up here, about to be caught again. Even though he's held you captive, he has never put a hand on you before. You didn't know what to expect tonight.
A light seemed flicker in your head as more doors opened and closed, Jungkook's soft humming spreading throughout the house.
What did he mean when he said you were only running from yourself? Did he know you were going to end up hiding in this old ruin?
You opened your eyes and felt your hands soften their grip on your ears.
Of course he knew.
Who would know the area better than him? He must have chosen it for a reason. He must have left your door cracked open on purpose. What for? To prove a point? To feed his delusions?
An anger you haven't known before made you feel hot from head to toe, the ice in your veins sizzling. Suddenly you found it much harder to control your breathing, even more so when you heard him open the final door.
Just like that all that separated you from him was a few meters and the thick, old wood of the wardrobe.
He tsked as he entered the bedroom.
"Last chance to come out," he offered. "Aren't you cold, my angel? I just want to take you home."
You resisted the urge to scream, to tell him that his place will never be your home, and that you hated him with every fibre of your being. Instead, you remained silent. Living long enough on the run, even prey could pick up a few tricks from the predator.
Jungkook laughed. It irked you to the core.
"Okay then."
One step, then another. Slowly, ever so slowly, you rose to your feet, dedicated to not making a sound until the very end.
Shuffling; then a sigh.
Then silence.
Through the breaks in the wood, your eyes long adjusted to the dark, you could see his boots stop right in front of the wardrobe.
The ticking of the clock seemed louder, slower, stretching the fabrics of time into eternity.
Tick... tock.
Tick... tock.
The doors flew wide open.
"Got-"
you was knocked out of his lungs when you threw yourself at him, scratching blindly and kicking your feet where they could reach. You were akin to a furious kitten pouncing at a tiger, but it didn't deter you, and neither did the wetness you began to feel dripping down your fingers.
"Fucking hell," Jungkook gritted, the momentary surprise fading quickly as he gripped your wrists, shoving you straight back into the wardrobe with a thud.
You yelped at the impact, your wrists stinging, your head aching from the blow. You weren't quite sure if your eyes welled with tears from the pain, or from how scared and small you suddenly felt next to him.
"Fuck, did I hurt you?"
Dizzy, you looked up at him. His face looked pale and blurry, and you briefly wondered if you misheard him.
It didn't matter. You were so tired of playing games.
"Fuck you!" You spat, though your voice shook, your throat feeling tight. "Let me go, you fucker."
Jungkook raised his eyebrows, exhaling deeply.
"So you didn't hit your head too hard. Good."
Your mouth opened to spit out more insults - what did you have to lose by now, really? - but everything in your brain shortcircuted when he leaned in and kissed you.
You froze for a moment, the weight and the warmth of his lips paralyzing. The tears spilled, as though only now you just realized that this was happening. And you were never going back to a normal life.
Jungkook cooed at you when he felt the wetness, pulling away to wipe your cheeks. Your mind fuzzy, you noted the long, dark streaks your nails left on his neck.
"Is it setting in?" He murmured. "Are you getting it now?"
You blinked, the throbbing in your head dulling, but you still couldn't think straight.
"You're mine," he brushed the next tear away with his lips, soft and gentle. "Only mine."
You shook your head, sniffling quietly. Jungkook grabbed your chin, staring into your eyes.
"Baby, you could run to the end of the world and I would still find you. You know it, and you fucking crave it. Why can't you just let go?"
You frowned, shaking your head more vigorously. Each word out of his mouth felt blasphemous. Like something that shouldn't ever be spoken out loud.
"Mhm," Jungkook purred softly, rubbing his nose along your cheek. "I own you, angel, body and soul. Feels good to be caught, doesn't it? I bet you're fucking soaked."
Your heart jumped to your throat, your nails digging into his hands. He didn't seem to care. There was something feral in his eyes, and it spoke volumes by itself.
"I bet you rubbed that little pussy every night knowing there's no one around and I can do whatever the fuck I want with you."
You gasped, instinctively lifting your knee to kick him, but he caught it between his muscular thighs, tightening his grip on your wrists.
"No!" You snapped, using the last of your strength to trash around, your elbows knocking into the wood behind you. "Let go! You're fucking delusional."
Why were you crying? You hated looking so weak, and how he seemed to delight in it, barely budging at your antics.
"Shut up," he narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw. "Stop fucking lying."
His tattooed hand gripped your chin again. His lips knocked into yours, uncaring for permission, unaccepting of denial. His fingers dug deep into your cheeks, squishing them.
"Don't try to bite," he hissed. "I'll bite back harder."
You trembled as he pushed his tongue inside, his breathing hot and heavy in your mouth. His self control was unraveling. He kissed you harder the more you refused, and the ground seemed to spin beneath your feet. It made you ache in so many ways you couldn't tell what you were feeling, or that he released your wrists to pull you flush against him. All the adrenaline seemed to be fading from your system, your emotions quick to catch up with you and drain your strength.
You still pushed at his chest. Fed up, he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing. You whined into his mouth, your stomach dropping, your eyes shooting open.
"Don't think I won't choke you until you're fucking blue, angel. You can scream all you want, I don't give a shit. You'll look pretty in any color to me."
You blinked rapidly, feeling your heart shrink, and with it the rest of your spirit. You felt so small, your lungs constricting, heat flowing through you in violent waves.
Eyes dark, pupils blown wide, Jungkook tightened his hand around your neck.
"Got it?"
You found yourself nodding immediately, your mouth gaping, but unable to form any words.
"Good girl," he murmured, rewarding you with a sweet kiss, his grip easing slowly.
He leaned his forehead on yours, releasing your neck, allowing more air to flood into your lungs. His next kiss was more gentle, a warm pressure that made your eyes fall shut again.
Why were you still crying? You wished you could stop the tears, even more so when Jungkook groaned, sliding his hand onto your ass.
"God, you're so pretty," he whispered, scattering heated kisses across your neck, pushing his hips into you. "Pretty when you cry," he opened his mouth and ran his tongue along your skin, inducing shivers. "Pretty when you run," he sighed, proceeding to suck a bruise above your collarbone, ignoring all your squirming. "Pretty when you fall apart for me," he mumbled into your skin. "So pretty inside and out."
You were almost mortified by the mewl that escaped your throat. Almost. The darkness behind your eyes was beginning to feel warm and hazy, his words making your knees buckle. You had no choice but to wrap your arms around his neck not to hit the ground, and he pressed you harder into the wardrobe.
"I got you," he soothed.
What a cruel comfort. His body was becoming your only grip on reality, the heat and the hardness of it keeping you grounded.
"Don't be scared. I won't hurt you."
The amusement in his voice didn't do much to convince you; although even without it you probably wouldn't have believed him.
Or would you? Your mind was becoming scattered. You didn't know what to think anymore. He enjoyed hurting you in many ways, but a part of you knew that he was too obsessed with you to do any real harm. It didn't matter, anyway. He was already unbuckling his belt, his hands shaking from excitement. He was going to prove his point, after all, claim what was his forever. This was no time for foreplay or sweet nothings.
He lifted you up so easily your breath caught in your throat, hastily shoving your panties aside to push the hot, swollen tip of his cock against your entrance. He was so hard and big, you couldn't stop yourself from wincing, your nails digging into his shoulders, scratching at his leather jacket.
The small gasp that left him was followed by a deep groan.
"Oh, you little slut. I knew you were fucking soaked."
Humiliation rippled through you in burning waves, but you didn't have time to dwell on it. As if his last shred of sanity just vanished, replaced by sheer, carnal need, he rammed inside you, hard. You whimpered from the sudden stretch, your cunt pulsing and clenching around him. He gritted his teeth.
"Fuck."
He tightened his grip on your thighs, not giving a damn about your legs or the wardrobe shaking as he started fucking himself into you.
"Oh fuck," he moaned breathily, "oh fuck, yeah."
You could feel yourself leaking around his cock with every harsh thrust, his filthy, shameless enjoyment of it making your stomach tighten. You tried to swallow the noises building up in your throat, but no matter how much you hated it, this was the best you've felt since a long time. And you did hate it so much, because it was exactly what he wanted. He studied all parts of you carefully while he tore you apart, and waited patiently to have you on the brink of crumbling before he fixed you up. Before he made you take every inch of his cock, made you feel real.
The first moan that broke through your lips was loud. Louder than the squelching of your pussy being pounded, or his balls slapping against you. His cock twitched inside you, hitting all the right spots, making you stickier with precum.
"Look at you," he said breathlessly. "What a good, little whore. This was all you needed, wasn't it?"
He adjusted you, strong arm keeping you steady, and one hand making its way back to your face to tilt it towards him.
"Wasn't it? I know you better than you know yourself, baby," he brushed his lips against yours. "And I know that inside this good little girl who needs love is a good little slut who needs an owner."
You ripped away from his grip, unable to stand his eyes staring so deep into your soul, your cunt tightening around his cock more with each dirty word.
Jungkook grabbed your face, almost giving you whiplash from how fast he turned your head back towards him.
"Don't you fucking look away from me if you want to come tonight."
You lower lip trembled, but you didn't dare to disobey him, desperate to continue tumbling towards the high that was tingling through you. Jungkook shivered against you, his thrusts growing sloppy, sweat dripping down his temple.
"Good girl," he breathed, leaning his forehead on yours. "Fuck, gonna come inside this tight, little hole. Keep my pretty whore nice and full."
"Oh god," you whined, your back arching, a jolt of panicked pleasure shooting straight through you. "Don't-"
"I can feel you clenching, baby. You fucking want it. You want to be- fuck- dripping with my cum, yeah? Won't wanna run off next time. Will be too b-busy drooling all over my cock, fuck."
You barely registered the pain of your head hitting the wood behind you again, or the fact that Jungkook didn't scold you for looking away. He seemed to getting just as close to his own high, groaning lowly as he fucked you faster.
"Yeah? Fuck. Fuck. If you ever run from me again, I'll fucking ruin you. We'll see how pretty you'll look in red. You're fucking mine-"
You shuddered, your cunt clenching as it gushed, your cries filling the empty house. He pushed so many of your buttons, your entire system seemed confused; or maybe Jungkook has been right all along, and he did know you better than you knew yourself.
As if through a fog, you could hear him curse and moan with you, urging you on, his hips stuttering.
"Fuck yes, good girl, yeaaah-"
The warm rush of his cum inside you was the last thing you felt clearly. It seemed endless, thick, overwhelming, adding to the pleasure pulsing through you.
After that, you didn't feel much of anything, hanging on to consciousness by threads, floating in the dark. For the first time, you were glad that he was so much stronger than you, because you limped in his arms, and even though he still hasn't caught his breath, he managed to catch you.
His heart pounded against yours as he pulled you into his embrace, cradling you like the most precious gift from the universe.
"Good girl," he whispered into your hair, stroking it softly. His neck was warm against your cheek, damp with your tears and his blood. "I love you. Good girl. My sweet, precious girl."
You sighed, too tired to speak or think, but he didn't seem to mind. There was only one thing that he really wanted after tonight, and that was to take you home.
"Let's get some rest, angel."
For some reason, you had no doubt he would have carried you through those damn woods to get you into a comfortable bed. But Jungkook knew how to plan ahead, and his car was parked not too far from the ruin. You could remember the graze of cold air on your skin when he carried you outside, soon replaced by the smell of leather and the warmth of his car. You could remember a damp cloth soothing your aches when he put you to bed, washing away the sweat and the grime and the stress of the night.
Then his arms. They wrapped around you like wings, pulling you close, petal lips brushing your neck.
For the first time in months, at least for the moment, the word home didn't feel so wrong.
#listen I stayed up the whole night to write this so forgive me adjjhsjshdhdfhs#jungkook x reader#yandere bts#bts x reader#bts imagines#bts smut#bts scenarios#bts reactions
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a warriors love
pairing: neteyam x female omatikaya!reader
WC: 1.7K
warnings: shouting, mentions of cuts and blood. took inspiration from the recomms kidnapping the sullys in the forest.
summary: you have an argument with neteyam out of fear
A/N: lowercase on purpose, sorry if that bothers you. this was something i just word vomited in my doc. Inspired from a prompt i found off pintrest, “you can’t protect everyone” “i have to try”
does the end kinda suck... maybe but i wanted something short and kinda left off for imagination.
been in the drafts since march 12
masterlist
the quiet was eerie. everything felt too still as if time froze and you were the only one to notice the change in your environment. it was like you just lost the ability to hear anything besides your own body.
everything was so loud just moments ago. shouting of commands, the breathing in your twitching ears, the sudden onslaught of bullets and arrows raining hell upon your captive form along with the three sully children and their human companion.
your heart was pounding in your ears but your instincts kicked into gear and you kicked and bit the sky demon and ran deep into the forest with the others, hands tied in front of you and legs pushing you further into the trees.
it all stopped when you toppled into another body, one you weren’t sure of being friend or foe so you struggled in their strong grip. their arms caging you against their chest and you could feel the tears stinging against your eyes and the choked feeling growing in your throat, your screams showing your growing fear. only when you felt the barest touch along your cheek and the gentle whispers of comforting words did you stop your fighting. the tears only flowed faster.
“mawey yawne. mawey.” (calm beloved. calm)
neteyam’s soothing voice sang within your ears and deep within your brain. a hand petting your braids atop your head, even digging his fingers to feel your scalp. his other hand pressed to your back, making your chest flush with his, encasing the both of you in a reality check.
you were alive. you escaped. he saved you. his family was safe.
and all that led to now. you sitting on the floor of your small mauri, eyes focused on nothing before you with your body hunched over your crossed lap. hands mindlessly picking at skin and twisting or bending fingers, or a knee bouncing to an unknown sound only you can locate. even a small rocking motion came upon your body, it was like you were in a fixed trance.
his arms being wrapped tight around your shoulders stopped all functions. slowly you realized what was happening and sluggishly you moved your arms securely along his waist, a firm tug to pull him impossibly closer. your faces tucked into the crooks of each other's necks, deeply inhaling the other scents, feeling the movement of your chest as you breathed in and out.
“neteyam…” your lips brushed his skin, and you gave a tremble to his name. he shushed you, his nose rubbing against your pulse point. his lashes a light tickle on your neck just below your jaw. “focus on your breathing first. your heart putters like that of a hummingbird's wings.”
neteyam pulled away and you started to panic, but all he did was place a hand against your heart and he tugged one of yours to do the same, “follow my heart. listen to my breathing. calm and steady.” you closed your eyes to just focus on the thump thump thump of neteyam’s steady heart.
when you felt relatively calmer, less jumpy you peeled your closed eyes open and stared directly into neteyam’s clouded golden orbs. they looked to be shadowed by different emotions, only one you can see at the top of his emotional surface. anger.
a hand limply touched his cheek, just a ghostly sweep of your fingertips. and before you could move further or speak, fast-paced steps echoed against the cave walls and entered your mauri. kiri walked forward with a woven basket of herbs and salves but stopped short when she looked up from the floor to the two of you still seated in front of each other, neither moving away only straying your eyes to her.
“oh, uh… sa’nu and sempu (mom and dad) sent me to fix any wounds. grandmother is busy with others.” she shuffled on her feet, noting the heavy air.
neteyam stood up and walked over to his sister, taking the basket into his hands, “i shall mend her wounds. stay with tuk and lo’ak, make sure they are okay.” he gave a squeeze to her right bicep and she nodded to the both of you before walking away.
neteyam moved quietly as he worked preparing the paste that would keep any cuts from getting infected and set aside the herbs for wrapping or for swelling bruises. you just watched as he kept his head and eyes down focused, mouth pulled into a thin, tight line showing he was keeping words to himself.
“neteyam… please don’t keep thoughts to yourself. tell me what troubles your mind.” a hand resting on his knee.
his movements stilled and you thought he was about to open up, but instead he mumbled lowly, “this might sting,” and he scooped the thick yellow paste onto two fingers and slathered the medicine along a long and red cut to your forearm. you flinched in his hold, eyes shutting tight with your fingers closing into fists and your breath sucked in through your teeth.
you heard the mumbled “sorries” and felt his hold that was firm but his fingers were delicate. he moved from the cut on your bicep to a cut along your collarbone. the sting wasn’t there as he worked so you focused your attention back on him, needing to hear his voice and thoughts.
“‘teyam, please. i-i know what happened was scary, but not talking to me is worrying me more. it was not our intention to get taken hostage by the demons, they caught us off guard as we were exploring, and- and i know we… yes we went to an area that was off limits. but- but everything was cleared and when i started to get worried i told them we needed to leave and that’s when they arrived, and that’s when we had lo’ak call in.”
neteyam just worked, not stopping to look at you or speak with you, his eyes stayed on your damaged skin. it was making you frustrated. you didn’t mind his silence usually, but it was always a welcomed silence when both of you just wanted to soak up the other’s presence, this was an angered silence. he was giving you the silent treatment.
“neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan i do not appreciate this silence. i would rather have you yell at me than ignore me as i am trying to talk to you. i know you have some words dancing on your tongue just waiting to be spewed in my face, well speak them.” you jerked away from his gentle touch and you missed it, but he was hurting your heart.
he stayed on his knees, head bowed as he stared at his hands, palms facing the sky. his braids closed off his face, his emotions that you usually could read like an open book, but now he was a clouded sky that wouldn’t let the sun shine through.
your lips trembled and eyes watered, your arms covering your stomach as a protective blanket from this vulnerability. “when i was being choked by their hand around my throat and my queue being tugged harshly, i thought i was to die in that moment. they held knives at each of us, ready to stab if we were to make any move to freedom. and- and as the night crept upon us as they waited for your sempul (father) so they could kill him along with us, i just thought of you. thought of your smile and your comforting laughter that i have to wrangle from you most of the time because you can be too stubborn for your own good. how i would miss the touch of your fingers on my skin, rubbing circles into my hips or caressing my cheeks as we gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. how there were so many words i have yet-“
“i could have lost you! you could have been killed long before we arrived to help! i would stumble upon your lifeless body! do you not know how that would completely break me apart? i wouldn’t be able to live without you, without your soothing words and quiet company. i- i would want to die right with you, even if it hurt my family…i wouldn’t- your loss would just rip my heart out of my chest and completely tear it to shreds.”
his words shrieked loud like a ikran’s cry within your eardrums. your whole body stopped moving and you stood motionless, the air stolen from your lungs and your heart forgetting its automatic beating. your arms fell from their protective hold on your stomach before your feet carried you back to neteyam, knees crouching to the ground. with a hand, you tucked it under his chin and pushed his head up to make proper eye contact and that’s when your heart completely broke in your chest.
his usual glowing irises were surrounded in a red hue from the running tears that left stains under his eyes and along his cheeks. thumbs jumped into action and swiped away the pain that this situation has caused him, you hated seeing him so stressed and worn out.
“ma ‘teyam… i hadn’t meant to put us- put you in this type of position. i never want to be the cause of pain for you and- and i know this whole problem could have been avoided if- if i was a bit stricter with lo’ak and his impulse decisions. but we must now focus on our present.” you connected your foreheads together, thumbs still running over his cheeks.
neteyam wrapped his hands around your wrist, his nose bumping into yours, “i’m supposed to protect you, protect my family and i have failed my purpose.”
“no neteyam. your sole purpose isn’t to be a protector… well actually kinda is- anyway, what- what i am trying to say is. you cannot save everyone neteyam, sometimes Eywa chooses whose life ends if it keeps the balance.”
“i have to try. i have to try and save everyone, especially my family and you. life would never be the same if any of you were to leave in a tragic way.” you pushed braids behind his ears, “and life would be dull and fruitless without you, neteyam. we must protect each other, that is our purpose.”
...
#neteyam imagine#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#neteyam x omatikaya!reader#neteyam#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#neteyam x reader#neteyam angst#avatar imagine#avatar x reader#james cameron avatar#avatar the way of water#avatar the way of water imagine
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So Ranni is the one summoning the 'oath-sworn' ghostly summons in Rennala's second phase, yeah? That whole phase is Ranni, but that's not what this is about. That spectral oath-sworn dragon is almost definitely Adula, who swore a knightly oath to Ranni's Dark Moon (also I headcanon Adula as female, but you can ignore that if you want)
Imagine Ranni!Reader tries to demonstrate this summoning ability of theirs (lets say to the Fatui) but because R!R has literal god powers in Teyvat, instead of a ghostly shade of a dragon, they summon Adula in the flesh.
Fatui: *silent shock and awe*
R!R: *also shocked but hiding it better* ...Everyone, this is Glintstone Dragon Adula. I trust ye shall welcome her as ye hath welcomed me...
Adula: *lost in every sense of the word* Where am I and how did I get here???
According to Lannseax's Glaive, ER dragons are also capable of taking human form. Or in Teyvat, a half-dragon form.
The Creator (re)gains a bodyguard in the form of an ice mage wielding a spectral, frosty claymore - a majestic half-dragon with white horns and a white-scaled tail, both of which are studded with strange blue crystals.
Only Teyvat's astrologers, attuned deeply to the stars, notice the life-force of the cosmos themselves radiating from those living crystals. But of course such a creature is blessed in this way, they conclude - she is, after all, the Oath-Sworn Dragon of the Creator, favored even over Morax himself.
How does Zhongli react to this? I'm genuinely asking, because I enjoy seeing people emotionally torture Zhongli in SAGAU, and I like your writing and imagination.
First, thank you for your thoughts; and, for liking my writing :D
Zhongli is a very, very patient man: and above all else, he is not one to be jealous or envious. Only in specific circumstances, like maybe envying Qiqi's ability to forgot, over his own memory, is one example.
The same goes, in this case, for The Creator: He is, at most, disheartened from not being held in highest regards. But, he knows, this is a being from beyond the veil; they, in particular, have a companion just as he did. Difference being, of course, is that while Azhdaha is now imprisoned under the mountains, the Glintstone Dragon Adula is alive and very much well.
Perhaps, then, he is envious of that. But alas, he has long since toned down himself in regards to fanaticism; at the end of the day, Adula is favoured more. And, that is that.
#ryuusei's replies#genshin impact#sagau ring#sagau#sagau brainrot#Zhongli#Glintstone Dragon Adula#ranni the witch#lunar princess ranni#ranni!reader#elden ring#the fandom enjoyer
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Something was supposed to be there
Part 1 2 3 4
"Explorer's log, the Radiant Dusk at Everest, Day 1. Me, the impeccable Trisha, alongside with my irritating companion Haespar,
(Haespar: Hey now, no need to be rude)
(Trisha: and my point stands proven. Hush now, this is my documentary!)
and the lovely Silent Engineer Emily,
(Trisha: Emily silently blushes, hehe)
(Haespar: ignore her listeners, she's making things up)
(Trisha: stop being irritating, you're just giving me more stuff to edit out later)
are making our way towards our first objective - the teleporter-warp engine hybrid thing.
(Haespar: very documentary-like choice of words)
(Trisha: see what I have to deal with viewers? No respect for the arts)
(Haespar: I thought this was a documentary.)
(Trisha: Gah, that's it, your character is gonna meet a tragic end at the start of this and I'll make you into a ghost in editing or something)
A-hem! Emily and I, after making our way through the desolate crash landed Dusk, mourned the death of our associate, Mr Kraus, who fell victim to faulty electrical cabling dangling from the dark ceiling. Tragic.
(Haespar: I don't even get a eulogy? That hurts my feelings. *grins*)
(Emily: *light chuckle*)
(Trish: *gasp* Emily, I thought you were on my side! And you, wipe that smile off your face, you're dead now)
However, the two of us, accompanied by a SILENT ghostly visage of the fallen person, continued on with our critical mission to assess the condition of this deadly ruin of a ship, and figure out if we have what we need to make our way back home.
(Haespar: Just to be on the record, the ship is perfectly fine, structurally, the lights work and life support systems are all green and we are walking along a nice, flat and wide hallway with no obstacles or hazards)
(Trisha: buzzkill)
After hours of grueling work (Haespar: not even 20 minutes since we started) AFTER HOURS OF GRUELING WORK, we have finally made it to the first checkpoint. Emily, using her superior skills and knowledge of technology, has taken upon herself the mighty task of reverse engineering the broken down doorway (Haespar: aka - showing her ID to the terminal) to grant us access to the abandoned chamber (Haespar: pretty sure I went here two days ago) that holds the first key information we need.
The door creaks open under the weight of history to reveal...
uhh, okay. What are we actually looking at?" Trisha is forced to return to a normal way of talking as reality is now proving to be less boring than she expected.
Haespar, also quite stunned by what they see: "That's a big hole where the room with the telerporter-warp hybrid engine was supposed to be."
"There's scorch marks." Emily chimes in, "It looks like a perfect sphere. Maybe 30 meter diameter."
Indeed, a massive empty space where not only the hybrid engine was housed, but a few other less relevant rooms across five different floors were as well.
"It's like someone took a laser cutter to all of this, like in that movie, Terminator, where that guy comes back from the future and there's this cool effect and the ground where he lands is all like cut off and stuff."
"I'll take your word for it, Trisha." Haespar gets on the comms back to the bridge, "Ira, we've reached where the hybrid engine was. It didn't come with us and disintegrated a large section around it, Emily will send you precise details shortly."
On the other end, Chief Engineer Ira Tameki silently absorbed the new information. After a long pause and a deep breathe, she collected herself: "Understood. Leave that area alone, but continue with the task. We still need to know the status of everything else on this ship. I need to talk to the Captain."
"I don't know if telling him will do any good in the state he's in right now." Haespar suggested, but Ira shook her head, even if he can't see her.
"Probably not, but he needs to know we're stuck with no way of getting back currently. The sooner he begins digesting reality, the better."
"Alright, I hope you're right."
"Me too."
Continue->
#humans are space orcs#humans are space australians#humans are space oddities#humans are deathworlders#humanity fuck yeah#carionto#story#scifi#uh oh i'm writing dialogue
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Talos of Atmora
Pairing: Nebarra/LDB (gender neutral reader)
Rating: Teen
Words: 1056
Additional Info: So, this was meant to be smut, but my hand slipped and it became hurt comfort and I have a lot of ideas I want to explore in Destiny Waits for No One instead of in a little one shot lmao
Injuries were inevitable in your line of work. That's why restoration spells and healing potions existed. But it didn't change the fact that you were holed up in a shack with possibly the worst of your companions. Xelzaz would have been able to heal you. Lucifer and Kaidan would have at least been pleasant company. What did Nebarra bring to the group? An impressive sword arm, and an even more rancid attitude.
It was your own fault really for thinking having some alone time together would help you turn that frown upside-down. Make you closer. Something.
But no, here you were, stuck in a damp old shack, leg out of commission as you tried to explain to Nebarra how to make a rudimentary healing poultice.
"Tell me why you can't just do this again?" He sneered.
You rolled your eyes. "Because I dislocated my damn shoulder in that last fight, and my leg is too messed up for me to stand."
The mer pounded halfheartedly on the blue mountain flowers and marshmerrow in the mortar and pestle. "Maybe if you-"
"Maybe if I what? Maybe if I what, Nebs?" You hissed. "Maybe if I hadn't saved your ass, that spriggan wouldn't have left a festering wound in my leg? Hmm?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd asked you to jump in front of a twisted, evil tree. Let me just adjust my attitude." Each syllable was punctuated by the pounding of the ingredients. "The last time I checked, I didn't need your dumb heroics."
"Okay, next time I'll let you die. Fine."
"Fine."
He was absolutely impossible.
"Now add a tiny bit of canis root." Not enough to paralyze, just enough to numb and take the edge off as you healed.
He did as instructed, grumbling all the while.
"Let me see it." You said after a few moments.
Your companion held it out to you, and you dipped your finger in, testing the consistency before pulling out your waterskin. "Fill this up a third of the way to the brim, but you have to do it slowly. Mix in a bit at a time."
"Gods, you're picky."
You were going to bite him. Just sink your teeth into his flesh and rip and tear like any good dragon would. "If you don't do this right and it becomes infected and I die, I'm going to haunt your ass. I'm going to haunt your ass and make sure that wine is always out of reach for you. Just break every wine bottle I find with my little ghostly hands."
"You wouldn't dare." Though you couldn't see his face, you could practically feel his glower.
"Don't test me, mal fahliil. Zu'u du hi sili.*" You narrowed your eyes at him, lips curling over your teeth.
"Graxifalas kynd." He shot back. "You're not the only multilingual person in the room."
You hated that you somehow just couldn't manage to get along with this stupid mer. It wasn't like you hadn't tried, and it wasn't even that you didn't like him.... Or at least... you wanted to like him, he just made it so miserably difficult. Fighting you every single step of the way.
After a few moments, the pounding of the mortar and pestle slowed, and he showed you the poultice once more. You gave it the okay when you felt the gentle numbing sensation from the canis root. You held out your hand for him to hand it over, but he just set it down next to your leg and worked on applying it to the wound.
"I can do it..." You said, but he didn't seem to pay you much mind.
"Just like you can defeat a spriggan by yourself? Hmm?" His drawl was grating... and just a bit endearing.
"There were two of them."
"And two of us."
You rolled your eyes. He had a point though; You'd defeated dragons... how the hell were you unable to defeat two spriggans together. Well, you had defeated them, but your wounds weren't anything to sniff at. He began to bind your leg.
"You have very poor form in tight quarters." Nebarra tightened the tourniquet and you winced. "You rely too much on range and being able to shout at things."
A sigh caught in your chest.... He was right. You really weren't great up close. "... Yeah."
"Ohohoho backing down without a fight? Finally admitting you're not some god?" He seemed to admire his handiwork for a moment.
Was that how he thought you saw yourself?
The floor was very interesting. Probably full of splinters.... "... I never said I was a god."
"Oh please, spare me the soliloquy, Dragonborn. You let them call you Dragon-Made-Flesh. The Dragon of the North. The Child of Skyrim." He muttered as he took a seat on the floor a few feet away, each title held more vitriol than the last. "You don't have to call yourself a god. You just let people think it."
You chewed your bottom lip... he wasn't wrong. People had begun to murmur.... You tried to deny it when you could. But it had already started to spiral like a snowball down a hill, gathering strength and momentum.
"Do you even know what those titles mean, Adma'na?"
You finally looked over at him.
"Talos. They think you're the bloody incarnation of Talos. They think you're the reincarnated avatar of a false god." He spat.
You winced again. "... I can't really control what everyone else thinks of me. I've been trying to tell people but-"
"Try harder."
"Look at me, Nebs. Do you think a god, let alone THE Tyrant God-King, would be sitting here, bleeding, at your mercy? I... won't lie; I don't know what I am, but if I am a god, I'm a pretty pitiful one."
Nebarra was silent for a long while, and when he spoke again it was softly. "I'll give you that one. If you are a god, you're pretty pitiful."
"... Did you really think I saw myself as a god?"
He didn't answer.
You looked down at the bandaging on your leg.
"Well... I'm sorry if I led you to believe that.... Thank you for helping me." The corners of your lips curled up in a slight smile. "And for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."
*mal fahliil. Zu'u du hi sili. - (Dragon-tongue) Little elf. I will devour your soul.
Graxifalas kynd. - (Altmeri) Disgraceful child
Adma'na - (Altmeri) Poor listener
#nebarra#nebarra skyrim#elder scrolls#thunderous applesauce#odt#x reader#look I just love him a lot#I cant stop writing#i wanted to write smut i really did but it just came out this way
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I don’t know if you do hc’s but if you do could you do hc’s about ghostbur x touch starved! reader? or just anything to do with ghostbur? I love that funky ghost lol
🏵Your Tea Is Ready🏵
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
| Ghostbur / Touch starved! Reader |
It was late, the moon nearly tipping towards its apex, heavy and full. Most of your nights were spent with you're ghostly companion. A little depressing, perhaps, but quality time goes beyond the grave sometimes. You lay in a flower filled field, watching fireflies flicker and stars peak out from passing clouds carried by a warm summer breeze.
Ghostbur raises his arm suddenly, his grayish skin difficult to see in the dark but you just manage manage follow his index finger, pointed somewhere distant.
"That's my favorite constellation, do you see it there? Right behind that tree." His voice is cool and crisp like the crunch of autumn leaves. He always reminded you of fall, in both life and death. "It's called Lyra, like, Lyre the instrument." You nod, you see his lips twitch into a smile, a small one, but a smile.
You squint, you infact, do not see any pattern or shape in the sky by the said tree. "No, not seeing it."
"Really?" He asks, stunned, his arm falling to his chest and he turns fully towards you.
"Not everyone can recognize stars, y'know." You snort playfully, you turn to look at him, and scrunch your nose as the grass tickles your face.
Ghostbur rolls his eyes and smiles, sitting up suddenly, you follow suit. He points once more, a little higher this time.
"Right there, the star that looks kind of blueish?"
"Blue? Everything looks blue to you."
He huffs, once again you try to follow his point. You never noticed hoe all stars look practically the same until you really had to look for a specific one. You'd make a horrible sailor you realize with a bitter thought.
"I don't think the pointing is helping entirely."
"I'd make a sign if I had the materials."
You blow some air out of your nose hard, and suddenly a cool hand wraps around your own, extending your index finger and positioning your arm ever so. Despite his chill his fingers make you feel feverish, your face warm and must definitely turning red. Gods bless the night time darkness.
"You see, there."
Maybe if you were looking at the sky his assistance would help, but you're eyes were locked onto his hand, so carefully wrapped around your wrist. He swiftly slightly, his hand coming up a bit further up your fore arm. You shiver at the sensation, and he pulls away quick.
"Oh, sorry, my hands must be cold." Ghostbur rubs his hands together, as if that could create friction heat with his ghostly apparition. Maybe not everything human was lost in death. Maybe.
"No, no, I'm just.. I don't know, I guess no one really held my hand before."
If the news of you being poor at constellation sighting was shocking, this revelation looked like it might put him in the grave, a second time.
"Really? Never?"
You shrug. "Okay, maybe not never, I'm not exactly counting, Bur."
"Huh."
You furrow your brow. "What, it's not that weird is it?"
Ghostbur shakes his head, his dark cursor bouncing with the movement. "I don't think I've held many hands either." He admits. "I.. I remember the good things, happy things, you. But. I don't remember alot of hand holding." He looks lost in thought if only for a moment.
"I guess this is a good time to start for both of us then." You reach forward and interlock your fingers with his.
He smiles, awkwardly, a boyish charm to his lopsided grin. "Yeah. No one I'd rather hold hands with then you."
"Even if I can't pick out constellations?"
He snorts, beaming now. "Even if you can't pick out constellations."
#dsmp x reader#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#dsmp imagine#ghostbur imagine#ghostbur x reader#ghostbur x you
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Hi. I was struck with Boatem Knights AU brainrot when I saw fanart for it on youtube when someone retroactively made music to go with it (Thriplerex's "Builders Of All That Extraordinary Municipality (B.O.A.T.E.M.) - V.S. Hermitcraft's Boatem Crew". I like it.), which lead me to Tumblr. Then I sawn what was on here already, saw the writing prompt "Scar injures Grian in Vex form," and a story started forming in my mind. So, I had to actually make an account just so I can share my ideas.
What Applestruda and other creators on here have made is wonderful! I don't want to step on any toes, and I do not wish to be the newbie who knows not the meaning of etiquette. I hope that some of my ideas can be canon, but if not, I hope they're still good as alternative, harmless fan-stuff while still respecting the original creators.
Anyway, here is the first chapter of my story inspired by what everyone else has already made. Enjoy!
Chaper 1
The poor ogres were dead. They just didn’t know it yet.
Hunched over to ten feet tall, lazily holding tree logs for clubs, the two green-skinned, filthy monsters chuckled over the knight standing alone in front of them. They laughed even harder to see the other four knights retreat back up the trail.
“Heh heh, your friends are smart,” one said.
“Heh heh, they left you to die,” said the other.
“You look delicious.”
“We’ll eat you raw.”
The knight, who wore relatively little armor, kept smiling up at them, his dark hair turning a glowing white and his tanned skin turning blue. A cat-shaped, glowing ghost purred on his shoulder. It mewed and rubbed on his cheek.
The knight, whose name was Sir Scar, laughed back at the ogres, putting down his crossbow and ignoring his sword. “You know what they say,” he said, his dark eyes turning white. The cat jumped down from his shoulder and disappeared into the brush. The knight switched his stance into a low crouch, fingers hooked like claws and held back, ready to swing forward.
“They didn’t leave me,” he said. ”They got out of my way!”
~~~~~~~~
“And then I beat it over the head with its own arm!” Scar finished as he and his four companions rode their steeds along the road through the woods, shifting his crossbow back to its spot over his shoulder. He was back to normal: dark hair, dark eyes, easy-going smile, scarred face. “I always wanted to do that.”
Sir Grian giggled. “That’s so cliche’,” he teased. “Of course you’d want to do it.”
“You really should have stuck around to see it,” Scar teased back, knowing full well that they couldn’t.
“Sure, Scar, sure,” Grian played along. “The only time you’re not dramatically tripping over your own feet because you’re feral? Love to see it sometime, so long as I’m out of reach.”
“You could with those wings, you know,” Scar replied. “Why don’t you fly more?”
Grian made a face. “You fly in Vex form, too. Besides, armor’s heavy,” he explained, tapping his chest plate. He was an odd-looking person, with a plain, round face and plain, brown hair and an ordinary, sensible taste of fashion, but also with bright red macaw wings sprouting from his back and another matching, silly set from the sides of his head.
The ghostly cat on Scar’s shoulder mewed with jealousy. “Oh, sorry, Jellie,” Scar said, scratching the pretty little thing behind the head. It went back to purring. It was always reassuring to see the blue cat there. The little familiar helped Scar control the Vex enchantment, keeping the monster inside soothed until it either overflows with bloodlust or is intentionally called on. Only then does she leave, making space for the beast.
Scar’s next words were toward Grian, even as he kept cuddling his cat. “Maybe you should have a boob window, like me.”
Grian laughed. “I’d sooner die.”
“You know, Grian,” Scar said in his smoothest voice, the tone he uses whenever he's trying to swindle a customer. "You're a reasonable man-bird. Do you know just how light and easy to handle a boob window is? It is like having wings, wings for your chest."
As the two of them continued their friendly banter, the pair of traveling companions behind them eavesdropped. One was a slight man with a handsome mustache and meticulous hair, his dashing appearance comically ruined by a single clover sprouting from his head. He carried a rocket launcher — a weapon unheard of in this age of magic. His eyes danced with amusement at Grian and Scar’s conversation. Beside him rode Lady Pearl, large scythe casually held in her hand, her eyes rolling at Scar’s current attempt to sell the “boob window.” She was a beautiful woman with a couple of feather-like antenna coming from her head, her armor white and bright.
“I’d recommend calling it something else,” Pearl said in a low tone to the man riding beside her, “because ‘boob window’ sounds so stupid, but I don’t want to help him be more convincing.”
“Me, neither,” chuckled the man, Sir Mumbo. “But I can appreciate his persistence.”
Way up in the front, Sir Impulse smiled. He was a big, solid man with a friendly face and yellow on his armor, a large sword bound to his back. He had found himself a bunch of good friends, he thought. They each had a great sense of humor, and each was a good-hearted knight, which made for good company. That was a blessing, since they would be stuck together for the next few days.
In the back of his mind, Impulse worried about the wisdom of intentionally using Scar’s Vex form. Yes, they all knew what Scar was when they accepted him as a knight. Sure, Scar said that the bloodlust would grow and he had to just let it out so he could stay in control, and, sure, it was handy against big monsters like ogres or trolls or minotaurs. But Impulse wondered, were they treating this power too casually?
It would be a few hours yet before they set up camp for the night. They won’t be out of the woods for a couple of days, at least. Then, they could be home.
~~~~~~~
Far, far away, a good, kind, beloved king received a gift.
That gift exploded. When the smoke cleared, that king had been turned to stone.
#boatem knights au#applestruda#grian hermitcraft#scar hermitcraft#impulse hermittcraft#pearl hermitcraft#mumbo hermitcraft#haven't written fanfic in decades#newbie does newbie things#writing things into the wee hours of the morning isn't exactly the wisest decision of my life#maybe later in the timeline than the first fanfic on here?
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Do you think Dean was just quietly grieving and forcing a show concerning the loss of Cas in 15.20? I didn’t feel he had truly accepted Castiel’s loss yet. See: emotional attachment to Miracle.
Oh, yes. I agree with you.
I think it's very in-keeping with what we've seen from Dean, especially as he started to mature. His grief is malleable depending on the psychological wound-of-the-moment and how much time he's had to grieve, of course, but overall he makes a concerted effort to try not to rush into demon deals anymore.
Furthermore, we know he can mask grief well. What immediately springs to mind is the "best-face-forward" mask he wore during Mary's funeral. Mary began and remained one of Dean's deepest emotional relationships in his life, and he pulled himself together enough to run a wake and say some nice, happy-go-lucky words about her (14x19):
DEAN: We know it wasn't easy for some of you to get here, and we thank you. We, uh -- We gave her a Hunter's send-off a few days ago. But we know that her family went beyond just us. Some of you hunted alongside her.
Some of you fought Michael with her in the other world. You know, we lost our mom once before. But we got a second chance with her. And we got to know her not just as "Mom," but as someone who was tough and strong.
Stubborn as Hell. Someone who had opinions and wasn't shy to use them. She could handle a machete. She could handle a vampire. She could handle our old man. She couldn't cook worth a damn. Mom, you weren't here long enough. But we're so glad for the time that we had. Goodbye, Mom.
And yet, after that, we find Dean by himself, alone in a clearing, grieving privately. He's sobbing into the night, where no one can see. (We can assume this is a common thing for him.)
I think my issue with the preference for wildly visible grief is that there can sometimes be this assumption that unless it's big and loud, it's not as deep?
Sam, for example, can be very quick to assume if he doesn't see it or hear it, then the "processing pf emotions" isn't happening at all.
And that makes me wanna kick him in the teeth.
The thing is, sometimes Sam may not even be wrong to be concerned. It's the assumptions and the rushing that gets me...
///
Finale: Although Dean was consistently shown to visibly and verbally struggle with Cas's deaths (season 7, season 13), I think he still possesses powerful masking skills.
In the finale, it's been six months after the loss, and this time, he's trying to live for Cas and Jack. In my opinion, he's trying to make good on the healthy grieving he preached to Jack in Optimism.
Furthermore, I think with just Sam around, Dean doesn't exactly have someone to confide in during the finale.
Sam isn't the greatest at fielding grief, you know? We saw that in a big way in season 13 with how floundering Sam was in the face of it (trying to shove him at strip clubs, maybe accidentally snide remarks about PB&J, and shoving beer at him).
Plus, Dean is trying to be strong for Sam. That's their dynamic.
///
If you're into The Winchesters as companion pieces to SPN Prime, then I think the episode about clowns is a fantastic window into the type of grief we were seeing.
The Tears of a Clown (episode 12): In this episode, a brother takes his younger brother to a carnival, because he doesn't know how to handle his grief or help him. It's an off-key parallel to Dean's grief in the finale, and how Sam took him to a pie festival:
CLARENCE: How to help him through his grief, you know? So instead, a day after the funeral, I took him to the carnival to try and cheer him up. It only made things worse.
I'm fairly certain it's a purposeful reflection because, as we see in Dean's season 12 run of grief, he dies in nearly every hunt while he's grieving. That pattern continued in the finale.
Plus, if you ascribe to motifs, the disarray of Dean's finale room has ghostly echoes of Cas all over the place.
On fully accepting Cas's passing, I think you might be onto something because it's just...going to be very hard for Dean not to keep on hoping that every time the bunker door clangs open, it's Cas miraculously returning to him. He's always going to be looking.
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And think of him as Living - Duke’s chapter
AO3 — > Companion to this fic, To Join the Whispers
Fandoms: Danny Phantom (DP) / DC universe
Summary: THIS IS A CROSSOVER. What was supposed to have been a normal mission to stop members of the League of Assassins became something so much more when their family accidentally tangled with a ghost. And sometimes, the details leading to the resolution were obvious to some while completely missed by others. Companion chapters to ‘To Join the Whispers’ written from the POVs of some of the others
Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, and questionable mental health
Parings: none
Notes: originally uploaded to AO3. Cross-posted to tumblr
“You’re Martian Manhunter!! I’m so happy to meet you! I’m a big fan!”
Duke watched in fascination as Danny floated in front of J’onn J’onzz and held out a hand to shake. Even though he was trying to contain himself, his ghostly tail, which sometimes replaced his legs, twitched like that of an excited cat. Even though the kid from Amity Park had been acting as a hero for at least a year, he hadn’t had any interactions with other heroes before they waltzed into his home. It was nice to see someone else get starstruck.
In truth, he wasn’t exactly sure why Manhunter was there. He had seen him and Bruce talking a few minutes ago, so maybe it was Justice League stuff. Though he vaguely remembered someone, probably Bruce, talking about how a ghost’s ability to manipulate its body might be similar to that of a Martian’s, so maybe it had something to do with training. Even if it wasn’t, Danny was thrilled. One thing he did remember was Jason mentioning that Danny would like to meet the guy at one point.
Speaking of Jason, he was watching the interaction from across the room. Just like Bruce’s other kids, his expression was hard to read, but the core in his chest gave him away. Sure, it was much harder to see when he was in his human form, but it was still there. Though it took Duke a while to get a hang of it, the intensity and, for a lack of better word, its pulse gave him an idea of his mood. Right now, he seemed content, if not pleased. As weird as it sounded, it made him more human.
Out of all of the Bat kids, as they were often called by the other heroes, Duke had the fewest interactions with Jason. Part of it was due to the very clearly unresolved issues between him and Bruce (Duke knew better than to ask even if he was dying to know) that often kept him out of the city. The other part where due to the whispers of how he died and what he did when he came back to life. And since he rarely stayed long enough to chat after a mission was done, it didn’t help get rid of the negative whispers.
Then there was the glow which only Duke could see. When his powers first started coming in full force, he nearly stumbled when he first got a look at Jason. The faint sickly green glow of something followed his blood and laid in healed breaks in his bones. Bruce, Cass, and especially Damian had traces of the stuff in their bodies from their past interactions with the Lazarus Pits, but it was everywhere in Jason. He kept that information to himself, but when he saw how it seemed to flare when Tim was shocking him with the weird belt from the Fentons, Duke realized just how badly the stuff affected him.
But after the whole half-ghost thing happened, Duke really started seeing Jason’s humanity shine. His newly formed core helped express his emotions, even if his face and posture didn’t. While it didn’t help the others, it at least helped Duke better interact with him. Jason wasn’t as antisocial as he sometimes came across, and the one-time Duke asked him for help with an English paper after Alfred suggested it, his core absolutely shown with excitement.
Amazed, Duke offhandedly mentioned it to Bruce after he got a ninety-eight on that paper. With an unusually soft smile, Bruce mentioned Jason was loved literature and had done exceedingly well in school. Duke never would have expected the Red Hood was a straight A student. When he asked Dick about it afterwards for a confirmation, a distant expression momentarily appeared. He explained that if Jason hadn’t died, they expected he would have become a professor or even a lawyer. He even remembered overhearing Donna talking about him maybe going into the medical field on a mission. It was so strange to imagine Jason could have had such a different life.
Then there were the interactions with Danny. There was an openness between them that was rare to see among any of the Bats. They all had theories as to why they were becoming so close: shared experiences with death, a shared rough childhood, Jason not wanting to scare Danny away, weird ghost things, etc. But whatever it was, it was becoming increasingly common to see the two talking and joking with each other. And since Jason wouldn’t usually say anything if the others decided they wanted to join into the conversations or help with training, it helped break away some of the the walls he’d built around him. It helped show Duke that Jason was just a guy who had trauma, a lot of trust issues, a seemingly unlimited supply of zombie jokes, and an aversion to being touched.
They still couldn’t get Jason to willingly use his powers in front of them. He’d only do that during training if it was just Danny and Bruce in the room, but that was a work in progress. Duke was just glad he wasn’t the only one in the family with weird powers anymore. One of these days, he was going to have that conversation with the second Robin, and he was looking forward to it.
Speaking of which, as he watched Danny fly over to Jason to tell him something, Duke had to wonder if they were ever going to let his status as a halfa be known. If Danny was going to be trained by Martian Manhunter, then having Jason train with him too would make sense. Well, it would make sense to anyone but a Bat. To them, secrets kept them safe, and this was a big one. Heck, Duke was pretty sure the only reason people in the hero community knew Jason was back because they’d seen him as opposed to hearing it from say Dick or Tim.
“Thank you! This is the best day ever!” Judging by how tightly Danny was hugging Jason, he must have been the one to get the meeting with Manhunter in motion. Even with him being in his ghost form, Danny’s core shone with unbridled pleasure.
Jason’s, on the other hand, pulsed strangely as he stiffened. Was it shock? It settled after a moment, and he ruffled the teen’s hair before trying to get out of his grasp.
It didn’t work. Danny just laughed and latched on harder. As childish as it seemed, Duke recognized it as a tactic Danny sometimes used to get Jason to use his abilities, particularly intangibility. Another favorite tactic of his was to steal some of Jason’s gear left on a table and launch into the air in hopes of being chased. The kid liked using his powers, and it seemed this was his way of trying to show Jason how to have fun with them. And strangely, Jason’s powers sometimes malfunctioned after these attempts. Bruce theorized there was an unconscious call and response that happened between their energies when this happened, but he was hoping to ask Frostbite about on when the older ghost next visited the cave.
However, Jason didn’t take the bait. With his own devilish grin, he hit a pressure point under Danny’s ribs which caused him to crumble to the ground. Openly laughing, he was nice enough to help the teen up before excusing himself. “You don’t need me to hear stories about Mars. Go have fun. I’ll be upstairs.” After pushing Danny back over to J’onn, he headed over to the stairs.
If Duke wasn’t mistaken, Jason’s core was flickering. He’d seen it before when Jason accidentally transformed or one of his powers malfunctioned. Yep, he wanted to duck away from anyone before it happened. Catching Danny’s attention, Duke gestured that he would follow him to make sure everything was okay. The teen nodded in understanding, but a troubled expression replaced his previous smile.
…
“Hey, Jason? I know you’re in here. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Duke cautiously knocked on the door to the library before opening it. Instead of going immediately after the older boy, he gave him about fifteen minutes alone. Since his powers were still a major sore spot for him, Duke figured it was better to give him some space before trying to talk to him about it.
Ducking his head inside when he didn’t hear anything, he caught sight of Jason’s glow. At first glance, he was sitting in his favorite spot reading a well-loved book, but after a moment, Duke realized he was hovering a few inches above it. Crap, he was staring. He needed to not do that if this was going to go well.
“Danny’s worried about you,” he supplied when Jason raised an eyebrow at him.
Sighing, he slid a bookmark in the book before closing it. “I know.” While he didn’t move from his spot, Jason rubbed his chest as his core pulsed. It was more noticeable than it had been when he was down in the Cave. “I was content to just watch, but the dumbass wanted me to join him. I hate when he does that.”
“Does what? The hugging thing? I’ve noticed it flickers,” Duke tapped his chest to let him know he was talking about the core, “after he does that.”
For a moment, he thought he might have said something he shouldn’t have as Jason’s eyes narrowed and seemed to glow, but thankfully relaxed his expression and leaned backwards. “Should have figured you could see it.”
“It’s noticeable,” he admitted. “But if it makes you feel better, I can see Danny’s and Vlad’s too, but only if you’re visible. When you guys go invisible, all bets are off.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Jason’s lips, and Duke took that as a win.
“But seriously, what’s wrong?”
“You guys know I can feel when Danny and other ghosts are nearby?” There was a hesitance as he spoke. “It’s kinda of like a mood ring, but instead of colors, it’s like there’s a whisper of intent. He does this thing I can’t explain when he does that, and he knows he does it. It’s like he’s broadcasting, ‘It’s okay. It’s safe. You can stretch.’”
“Stretch?”
Jason pointed at his chest. “It’s not a good way of explaining it. ‘Relax’ or ‘let go’ might work better. And this stupid thing responds to it like a beacon, and I can’t stop it yet. Danny keeps telling me I need to work with these powers more…”
“Man, I get that.” Flopping on the nearby armchair, Duke to sound as earnest as he could. “I know it’s not the same thing, but I nearly lost my shit the day the x-ray vision kicked in. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see things normally and then just see bones when someone’s talking to you? It took a heck of a lot of practice to figure out how to get things under control. You guys know I still have trouble with the glimpse of the future. What?” Although Jason’s expression had remained neutral, his core pulsed in a way Duke understood to be questioning. “Surprised that the eye thing is new? I don’t really think I had these abilities as a kid. If I did, they weren’t really noticeable.”
“Yeah, but I’m not always in the loop with things going on in Gotham.”
Crap. The questioning pulses gave way into something more muted and sadder. He wanted to have an actual conversation about their powers. “Is anyone except Oracle completely in the loop with things in Gotham? Too much goes on here. I swear the city’s cursed.”
“There are rumors it is.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Jason shrugged. His core was starting to brighten again, and he stopped floating. “We’ve heard a lot of things over the years. Bat gods, vampires, wizards, rumors there’s a fucking Lazarus Pit somewhere under the city…” He spoke through his teeth as he mentioned the Pit. “I once told Bruce that Gotham’s evil. I don’t think she was originally, but too much happened here.”
“Speaking of the Pit, I thought I heard that you have to drink ectoplasm or something now?” The look of disgust on Jason’s face almost made him laugh. Almost. He still snickered.
“It has the worst texture.” He sounded so offended. “I’ve had to eat a lot of questionable things… but that, ugh! Alfred was kind enough to listen to Danny’s suggestion to mix it into a smoothie. I learned that day that even bananas can’t magically fix all smoothies. Frostbite is apparently trying to find an alternative for me. I really hope it’s a pill or something cuz there’s no way I can walk around carrying that stuff with me. If Bruce keeps me here much longer, I might take a stab at it myself. What about you? Anything you have to do?”
“You mean food and stuff? Other than eat better? I didn’t realize why you guys eat on the fly so much until I started patrolling.” That was true. With how much they trained, it was sometimes hard to keep up with meals. There were times where he had no idea how Bruce, Dick, and Tim didn’t starve. “But powers-wise, I just have to practice with them regularly. Things have gotten a lot easier since I started that.”
A comfortable silence fell between them before Duke eventually spoke up. “Can I ask why you don’t want anyone to see your powers?”
When Jason shifted, Duke expected him to either flip out or leave, but instead, he sat in a contemplative silence for a few moments. “Did you ever look in the mirror and realize that you don’t know who or what you are anymore?” When Duke shook his head, he continued. “I already lost myself once, and I don’t want to lose the few pieces I got back.” Sighing again, he stood. “Now that everything’s settled, I might as well go back down. Danny’s going to be too worried about me to enjoy his chance at talking to J’onn. The kid’s gonna turn me into a sap at this point.”
“So you did set up their meeting!”
“I just happened to mention to Bruce that Danny loves astronomy and was a big fan of Martian Manhunter.” Although he shrugged, Jason did sound pleased with himself. “He’s still a kid, and I think he forgets that sometimes. I don’t want someone else to look back and realize they never had a chance to live.”
…
After their conversation in the library, Duke decided to do a little bit of digging into Jason’s past when he thought he could get away with it and not get in trouble. When he said he had a rough childhood, that was putting it mildly. Due to his dad being jailed, he somehow managed to help keep himself and his mother off the streets until her death at an overdose when he was ten. Then he lived on the streets for two years until the fateful meeting with Bruce. Even before becoming Robin, Jason had too much responsibility. Maybe that was part of why he went off the deep end when he came back to life.
Speaking of Jason, he seemed to be in the library again. Seriously, did anyone in this family ever sleep? But something was off. Even for his human form, his glow was unusually dim. No one had said anything about weird developments, and he looked fine earlier in the day. Should he say something to someone? Maybe. It probably wasn’t a good idea to do that until after he spoke to Jason first though. It was probably nothing, probably.
So, he found his way to the library and stopped in. While a bit grumpy and a bit pale, Jason seemed to be okay and was surprised when Duke mentioned the change in his core. Though troubled, he thanked him for the information. That by itself should have been the first warning something was seriously wrong.
When he returned to the manor after class, the entire building felt wrong. There was a palpable sensation of fear and pain along with a supernatural chill that made the hairs on his neck stand up on end. Something happened. Was it an enemy?
He called out in hopes it was just another prank war between Tim and Damian. Those two were wicked when they got into it. The last time it happened, he nearly tripped one of the more dangerous rigs from Damian. Seriously, how did these people think this was a normal way to live?
“Greetings, Master Duke.” Alfred’s sudden appearance made him jump. Sheepishly, he turned to see the butler standing in the doorway. His eyes were twinkling in the way they did when he managed to sneak up on any of them, but the amusement hadn’t spread to the rest of his face. That was a bit concerning.
“Hey, Alfred. What’s going on? Did someone get hurt?”
“Master Jason has seemingly fallen ill, and as I believe you can tell, it seems to have affected the entire manor.”
“Hmm… he told me he was okay earlier, but his core looked weird.”
“What do you mean? You’re actually able to see it?”
“Ack!” Bruce’s sudden appearance scared Duke more than Alfred had. After catching his breath, he turned to see just how frazzled the man was. The slight frown and furrowed brow combined with a slightly ruffled shirt and matching jacket suggested this situation took his immediate priority. It wasn’t something he’d seen very often. Don’t get him wrong, Duke knew the guy loved his family, but openly showing his emotions was not something Bruce Wayne seemed to be able to do. “Seriously, Bruce. But yeah, it was really dim earlier.”
“Master Bruce, wouldn’t it be prudent to phone Master Danny?” Bruce almost looked sheepish at the suggestion. He nodded and excused himself. Chuckling fondly, Alfred glanced over to him. “I’m about to make some refreshments and start on some cookies for later. Would you like to help?”
“I thought I was banned from the kitchen.”
“I believe you can help me crack eggs without setting anything on fire.”
…
Danny appeared in the manor about an hour later. He was sporting a healing black eye, but it didn’t seem to bother him as Bruce filled him in. After Alfred relieved him of kitchen duties (he was totally going to gloat about how he didn’t torch anything), he along with Dick, Tim, Damian, Cass, Steph, and Babs had been waiting in various places on the first floor. Duke told himself he was listening because he was worried, but he knew it was curiosity. The others? He was pretty sure they wanted blackmail material more than anything else.
During the wait, the unsettling feeling in the manor had gotten worse. It was making all of them jumpy. There was talk that maybe Jason developed a new power and was messing with them, but Tim confirmed that Jason hadn’t been out of his room in a few hours. In fact, Jason hadn’t seemed to have moved at all whenever someone went in to check on him.
“You mean to tell me you forgot this was the day he died?” they heard Danny snap from the staircase. That didn’t sound good. So, Duke did what anyone else in the home would do and peeked his head out so he could look.
“This is the first time he’s been in the manor on the anniversary.” Bruce sounded uneasy.
“You need to pay attention to this type of thing! For ghosts, death is just as important as life. This is his first Deathday as a proper halfa, and it sucks. Like, royally sucks. Do you have any idea what it’s like to relive every excruciating detail of what happened to you when you kicked the bucket? I was electrocuted, and let me tell you, it wasn’t fun feeling like my entire body was cooking from the inside out as a hole to another dimension opened on top of me for a second time.” Danny gestured widely before he let his hands drop.
“Is… is this going to happen every year?” Dick stepped out of his hiding place and moved up the stairs.
Danny stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ve been told it does. Most of the ghosts I know throw parties on theirs since it’s the day they started their new lives, so I know they aren’t bothered by it anymore.”
“But…?”
“But when it comes to halfas, I don’t know. The whole being still kinda alive throws things off. Ask me again next August, I’ll be able to tell you then. And to make things worse for Jason, he’s technically died twice. I don’t know if he’s going to go through this again when the anniversary of Vlad being a crazed-up fruit loop comes around.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” If Duke wasn’t imagining things, Bruce sounded worried.
“Keep an eye on him.”
…
While Danny elected to keep watch during the entire thing, the rest of them decided to keep watch in thirty-minute shifts. It wasn’t very long, but the supernatural chill of Jason’s room prevented any of them from being in there for too long. No matter how many blankets or jackets they wore, the cold seemed to seep into their very bones.
It was Duke’s turn at the moment, and with everything he’d witnessed in the last couple years, this was one of the more unsettling situations he found himself in. If it hadn’t been for Danny’s reassurances, Duke would have been convinced he was watching over a corpse. Jason was curled up on his side with his arms covering his head. He hadn’t moved once since he’d been in there, but his eyes were open, unfocused, and glowing. His chest didn’t seem to be moving, but if Duke stayed quiet enough, he was convinced he could hear faint death rattles. Then there were the glowing marks on the visible areas of his skin that slowly appeared and faded. Tim said something about them being a type of scar. Really the only sign he was still functioning was his core which violently flickered on occasion.
He still didn’t know the full extent of Jason’s injuries from when he died. After all the talk about death and ghosts, Duke was starting to get morbidly curious, but he still couldn’t bring himself to look at the reports. Asking just seemed rude and kind of offensive.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, he decided to ask Danny, who was in his ghost form, about his meeting with Martian Manhunter. The teen brightened up and spent several minutes fanboying over the entire encounter and the couple training sessions they had in Amity. Since some ghosts could shapeshift to an extent and Danny occasionally altered his body without really knowing how it was done, Manhunter thought he might be able to help. He thought it was helping and wished Jason would join in.
“With how much Jason has trained in like everything, I’m surprised he won’t,” Duke admitted. Jason had skills the rest of them did not, and no one knew how he got them.
“We’re working on it. I know part of it is his lack of trust in himself, but he’s also having a lot of trouble adjusting to being a halfa. Can’t blame him on that. It took me months before I was comfortable using my powers on my own let alone when my friends were around, and they were the ones who watched me get fried.”
“Is that why you tease him?”
“Yep.” Danny popped the ‘p’. “He knows he needs to use his powers to stay in control of them. You know… now that I think about it, I don’t know if any of the other heroes know he’s a halfa now.”
“Probably not,” Duke agreed. “He regularly works with two others who are about ready to storm the manor to get him back.”
“Do you think they’ll be okay with…?” Danny made a vague gesture.
“Probably. I mean, the one’s an alien.”
“What? That’s so cool!”
As a comfortable silence fell between them, Duke noted that the room didn’t feel as cold as it had. Actually, it was starting to get unbearably warm, and Jason was beginning to shift. Minutes later, the heat stopped, and Jason started screaming as his core flared with the strange sickly color that used to run in his veins before it was replaced with clean ectoplasm of his core.
As his screams died down, he shot out of bed and transformed. There was a tense moment as his shoulders heaved as he glanced around. Duke wasn’t entirely sure if he saw them or not. But he knew what a cornered animal looked like, and Jason looked just like that. He… he should go get Bruce while Danny tried speaking to him.
As he dipped into the hallway, Bruce was already at the doorway. Dick, Tim, Steph, and Cass were behind him, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Damian was taking his time following behind them.
“What happened?”
“He’s awake, but I’m not sure if he’s aware of his surroundings.” After a slight pause, he added, “For a moment it looked like the corrupted ectoplasm in his body flared. It’s settled, but I don’t know if that’s going to mess with him or not.”
“You know, for a bunch of vigilantes who pride themselves on being quiet, you sound like elephants.” At Jason’s voice, they turned to see him in the doorway to his room, wearing a crooked smile. His voice was raw and there were bags under his dull green eyes. Danny was at his side, supporting him. Even with him being in his ghost form, his skin looked pale and sickly, though the green scar markings from earlier were no longer there.
Dick rushed forward and pulled his brother into a hug. “You idiot. You scared us!”
“Todd, Pennysworth told me he is expecting you for tea in ten minutes. Do make sure to make yourself more presentable first. Death isn’t an excuse for looking like trash.”
“Damian!”
For a moment, Duke thought Jason would absolutely loose it, but instead, he laughed. It was deep and surprisingly rich; a laugh Duke didn’t think he ever heard before. And if he wasn’t mistaken, some of the color seemed to come back into his face. “Well, guess that means I gotta drag my sorry ass down there. I’ll freshen up, but,” he pulled on his tuft of mismatched hair, “I don’t think I can fix this right now.”
“Don’t even try to force yourself to change back,” Danny scolded. “Let it happen when it happens.”
“Alright mom.”
“Say, I know we’re all happy you’re among the living and all, but can you eat regular food like that?” Steph pushed forward and poked at him.
“I…” Jason blinked a few times before glancing at Danny. “Can we?”
“Huh? Of course! You just have to be really careful not to accidentally swallow the silverware, but if that happens, you can just reach into your chest and pull it back out. But I don’t think Alfred would appreciate you doing that.”
All of them just stared at the teen. Was he joking? Duke really hoped he was joking, but when it came Danny, all bets were off.
“Right. Well, no costumes in the house.” Jason shooed Danny into the hall but stumbled at the loss of support.
Tim cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Guess you’re not quite up to doing things yourself yet. We should help.”
“Nope, fuck off.”
“Don’t be like that, Little Wing.” Dick pushed him back into the room with Tim following. It was always a little weird to hear Dick call Jason ‘little’. The guy was a freaking tank and as tall as Bruce, but it seemed like that nickname was something special between them.
Bruce chuckled fondly as the door closed and stopped Danny from trying to follow. “They’ll be along shortly. But there is a rule that we don’t wear our uniforms in the manor. You can stay in your ghost form, if you want. I’m sure Jason would appreciate it. Duke, do you think you have some clothes Danny could borrow for the evening?”
“They might be a little big, but sure. Follow me this way.”
============
Notes:
I'm not entirely certain when Duke's powers started. Most of the information I have suggests it was after he became a vigilante, but I'd think some of the more mundane aspects would have started before that. His powers definitely got a major upgrade afterwards though.
Gotham is canonically cursed. Regarding the Lazarus Pit under Gotham, there has been a couple references to it outside of Arkham-verse.
The thing about bananas and the smoothies... I actually hate bananas. Part of the reason is that they overwhelm other flavors. If you give me a smoothie with a banana in it, I will only taste the banana. In this universe, ectoplasm will overpower anything else... except maybe onions.
#Danny Phantom#dp#dp au#dp crossover#danny phantom crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc#To Join the Whispers#danny fenton
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Ice skating
Day Seven of WangXian Christmas Stories!
The local Christmas market had really outdone itself that year. Of course, it had always been beautiful, brimming with Christmas lights, festive trinkets, sweets, tea, mulled wine and a giant Christmas tree - but the organizers decided to add an extra feature, much to the delight of the public: an ice skating rink. Entrance was granted in exchange for a small fee and it included ice skates if necessary, as well as access for a whole day of fun - so of course Wei Ying had to drag Lan Zhan with him to try it out.
Why “drag”? Because Lan Zhan had never skated before and was the kind of person to slip on the thinnest bit of ice if he wasn’t careful, elegant and poised as he was. Unlike him, though, Wei Ying had always been talented on the ice and had even had some professional lessons a while ago, so he glided effortlessly across the ice, be it the one on a rink or the frozen puddles in the park.
Lan Zhan had hoped he could get away with just watching. After all, he loved watching Wei Ying do anything, he could never grow bored of it, and he could also avoid embarrassing himself or breaking bones - and it worked for a while. He stood by the edge of the skating rink, following Wei Ying’s flowing movements with keen eyes, his hair dancing behind him as he sped up, experimenting with some jumps and spins that Lan Zhan found impressive to look at. In fact, Wei Ying even dropped by to leave a ghostly kiss on his lover’s lips or wink at him before continuing to glide across the ice, picking up laughing kids and encouraging first timers. He was entirely in his element and Lan Zhan couldn’t help falling even more in love.
Until.
“Wow, that guy sure knows what he’s doing!” some guy commented as Wei Ying successfully landed a jump. “And he’s hot too.”
Lan Zhan tried to only subtly glare at the offender. Granted, he was too busy watching Wei Ying to notice, and continued talking to his companion. “I wonder when he’ll have a break so I can ask for his number or something. Or maybe I could pretend not to know how to skate and he’ll guide me through it.”
The two men laughed in a slightly sleazy way and Lan Zhan distantly wondered if ice skates could really be used as knife shoes, emphasis on the knife. But before he could say anything or attempt murder, Wei Ying took a graceful stop in front of him, his hair ribbon having fallen off during his last spin.
“I knew I should have packed an extra hair tie or something. Help me tie my hair?”
Lan Zhan was momentarily distracted as Wei Ying turned around and Lan Zhan began dutifully braiding his hair. In his peripheral vision, though, Lan Zhan saw the offending dude moving to put on his skates and winking at his friend - so Lan Zhan only slightly pulled on the long braid to bring Wei Ying closer to him and swiftly turned him around to kiss him. Well, more like shove his tongue down his throat, etiquette be damned.
He left one eye open to watch for the man’s reaction, who cursed lowly under his breath and angrily sped up on the ice, walking face first in a wall.
Poetic justice.
Wei Ying pulled away, breathing hard. “What was that for? Not that I mind, but you’re usually not like this in public.”
“Teach me.”
Wei Ying blinked a few times, and Lan Zhan allowed himself a smug look at his husband’s kiss bruised lips.
“Teach me to skate. I want to be able to do it with you.”
He laughed, leaning conspirationally close. “Why, so you can’t see everyone ogle me anymore?”
Lan Zhan’s gaze darkened. “You are doing it on purpose.”
“You know I love riling you up.”
“You will pay for this.”
But before Lan Zhan could say or do anything else, Wei Ying sped up and away to the other side of the rink. “You’ll need to catch me first!”
But Wei Ying didn’t know that the ice rink was about to close. And that all Lan Zhan had to do was sit and wait patiently until the announcement came through, pick Wei Ying up and be thankful they found a secluded parking space when they arrived.
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*walks on in tiredly, offers you coffee, downs my own* Hey there, how is existence treating you? Just passing on by to wish you a good day and a happy new year early as I'm tired plus leave some stuff down.
No need! Irish mythology and mythology from the Isles by itself is really metal, I could go on and on about story about Cú Chulainn and how it fully went down and how some of those stories can apply to Seraph/Fia, Una/Zelda and Dia/Ancient Au Ganon, but we'd be here all day, so I'll just leave this here:
https://youtu.be/XqyEADY_20Y
The song itself is a pretty good summary of his story and feats, there's also a video on OSP that although outdated also explains it pretty well, let's just say that absolute unity of a man's life was absolutely wild XD, I can go more into the Riastrad later if you want in another ask, plus some other bonkers stories. And you're absolutely right on that one, it was like that with Cú Chulainn, he was so strong literally everyone would have wanted to see him fail, so I can see Seraph/Fia being a bit distrustful but perceptive, not outwardly so, but he can probably judge people's characters pretty accurately as a result of always having to be on the watch out for enemies.
Also, uh, writing the Lora thing, when it's done I'll link it here, how do you feel about Irish folk songs? Or Sea Shanty style songs?
Also, since Cú Chulainn had not one but TWO man killer/eating war horses he got from the Fae via right of conquest, I personally headcanon he probably had at least one horse like that and if it's still around it's hostile towards anyone that isn't him, Player, FD, Wild, Twilight and Epona and if it sees Dink it's on Sight, just straight up biting his head off and stomping all over him with their hooves I don't make the rules.
The idea of him eventually sacrificing himself at the end of his life aiabsibsiabai- It honestly fits very well narratively, I am destroyed once more thank you for the food, plus it fits very well, they barely managed it even with some headstart (and likely the death of the Leviathans in Hyrule, I feel like they were the original beasts that fell when the Calamity first struck, and that later on the Sheikah and Zonai were inspired to make the Divine Beasts by them to finish it off), so it makes sense he'd want as much ready or tied up as he could before dying. Specially if he felt he didn't do enough to keep it from happening in the first place, although he'd probably want to leave his arm to fully finish holding down Ganon or he'd give permission to Una to do it, hence why I theorize his body might still be down there and that in an Au it probably got corrupted, while his spirit and maybe Una's once she dies are down there holding it down as much as they can, although it's just a theory and headcanon territory and if Nintendo won't tell us anything then everything goes xD
Honestly if Player threw anything at him he'd just either dodge on instinct or laugh, I think he likes people with spunk to them and it's only common sense to throw stuff at a ghost when startled, if Una is there she probably smacks him over the head with her own ghostly self and probably kicks him into gear into going with Player so he can keep an eye on them and Wild while she watches their shieldbrother to make up for accidentally scaring them, probably acts as a silent companion to Player and does his best to lead them away from danger and probably is there for them a lot in an older brother fashion (in my au he had a physical guide, whom he called Craein {Crane}, and they were basically like a gender ambiguous Anne Bonny and got Isekaied as Ganon's sibling, think of them as a Player who adapted to their situation without the Chain and adapted too well, becoming jaded due to the situation at the time and a warrior even if still a gremlin at heart, trying to prevent things from going wrong even with limited information and knowing it's hopeless, Player probably reminds him of Craein who always missed their home but wouldn't tell where it really was even to the end of their life where they basically cursed him out in the most roundabout "Don't die, I know you're extremely durable but please don't die-" ever, so since he couldn't aid them he'll aid Player as he can tell they're from the same place and he feels it's only fair), there were myths were Cú Chulainn still was seen riding around the country side on his chariot, so maybe some times he shows up when Player is alone and uses what little magic he can use as a ghost to make himself semi-corporeal and tap a bit into the Riastrad, basically scaring off foes with killing intent if needed be? Although there lies the question in who could see him like that and connect the dots. Or, the more comedic option, one of the most effective methods of snapping Cú Chulainn out of the Riastrad was if you basically had a lady show him their breasts, because he'd be too busy trying to look away or cover his eyes you could dunk him on like 8 vats of water and he'd cool down (literally, all of the water in the vats vaporized) or a river and he'd snap out of it because shockingly enough he was a gentleman, so, Seraph/Fia possessing Wild, and Player just threathening to strip down to their socks which gives enough time for Twilight to dunk him into a nearby river, shenanigans ensue that or Seraph just immediately hands control back to Wild so fast the poor guy trips and falls on Player with disorientation or something idk, I can see Seraph/Fia internally screaming after that because on one hand, he drank his respect juice every day and his Aryll would murder him if something like that happened, on the other, brownie points for his descendant?
Seraph/Fia being just limbs on the floor wrestling with Twilight is hilarious and I agree with Wild on that sentiment, sorry Time, you're my favorite and first Link but ya gotta see the comedic value, but also, consider: Cattle Raiding, aka basically herding competitions done in ancient times by Celtic adjacent folk, where you had to both herd your cattle, steal your foes' and put them down in a non lethal manner as preparation to war, the Zonai were most likely sea faring and since they were also warrior folk that's definitely on the table, so just him and Twilight on a herding competion trying to simultaneously herd their own cattle and knock the other out of their horse by any means necessary for mentor rights over Calamity and Wild.
Also, I personally headcanon him with gradient hair, like the roots start gold, but go fully Gerudo red by the end hence why he's depicted as red haired in the tapestry? Something like that, could be fun, also to fully support the fact him and his Ganon/Dia were shieldbrothers: Corpse Ganon has similar clothing not only the Gerudo, but also to Seraph/Fia in the tapestry, so something tells me he gifted the clothes to him after they were gladiator friends in full and earned their freedom, and that he'd probably give Player something like that too over time if he can (like the bracelets around the arm in TOTK), or just straight up give them a tame wolf/wolf-dog or something since it's what they did for people held in high regard back, the total of people he probably would have gone to those lengths for being three (aka Dia/Ganon, Una/Zelda and Aryll/Macha).
Anyway, on a less serious note as my brain power is running low, Tides is my spirit animal, and if we want to add to Time's trauma, Player either showing him this or absentmindedly humming this if they're a bit out of it:
https://youtu.be/GCOBa91Hoz8
https://youtu.be/JgFNf4nLGNk
For the lols, Time is my first Link ever as I played his games first and a lot when I was young and so we both have the same trauma, but I also can't help but poke at it once in a while, apologies to him.
Anyway, hope you're having a good day today! I'm going to procrastinate on sleep some more now.
-A Very Awkward Summertime Musician.
Honestly, Sum, keep feeding me mythology I generally just love the topic in of itself.
Second, I LOVE FOLK SONGS AND PIRATE CHANTIES- If you mention Celtic Women I will scream in pure joy, god I love their music.
Also I fucking love predator horses, like yes, you guys are built like that you've gotta use it. Terrifying but awesome, like Kelpie just ten outta ten- you best believe Player would be shit scared first, until they realised they're chill and now they're besties.
Glad you like my self sacrifice input I very much loved mentioning it, angst is enjoyable only if I'm making it /lh
Honestly loving ghost shenanigans, Player is suffering but its in a funny way that doesn't make me a complete sadist and yeah, that's all I gotta say JXJQJJS (My brain power ain't great, forgive me)
If Seraph/Fia were to give Player a wolf they're running off with it, that's their wolf now, Time can't say shit.
THANKS FOR DROPPING IN AGAIN SUM
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So. The new Parliament of Knives DLC came out today. I've only played through once so far so any speculation I have might be way off.
I went Malkavian. And oh boy was it fascinating. You learn way more thanks to the insights you get from your ghostly companion. There was one line in particular that hit me really hard that has me side-eying Arundel (like I love the guy, but hes so shady, and this made me side eye him even more) that I dont want to spoil cause it's so good.
Also I romanced Lucca and fuck, it was hot. Tbh I think it might be my favourite. She has a picture now and theres a whole new subplot for her which involved the Lasombra. I didnt get to learn Oblivion though. Maybe next time.
Ophelia also played a pretty big role for me. I'm not sure if it was because I was Malkavian or because I sought her out as often as I could. I didnt really learn much about her, but she helped me learn more about me. I kinda want to play through again as a different clan to see how it would work out with her, as being Malkavian had such a huge impact on our interactions.
And those are just the thoughts off the top of my head right now. I'll probably have more once I take the time to process it.
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@xsprxsso : x
She knew that look.
Over the last few weeks, months, she’d come to recognize it- a flirtatious little glimmer in the low light- the same one that would spark every other time he’d gotten the urge to toy with her head to see how long she could take it, or if he just wanted some attention. It was there now, and she knew it, she could feel it, even behind those shades perched on his nose and her back turned to him.
Maybe, in hindsight, she should have seen this coming when she invited him over during the last hour of her shift. It was rare for her not to work nights, and they had plans afterwards anyway, so why not? It was a slow day, and it wouldn’t get her in any trouble with management.
But it sure was about to if he kept looking at her like t h a t.
And curse the bar, too- that perfect warm lighting against his spectral form, the soft music in the background that was not doing her any favors with how it perfectly set the mood.
She, eventually, had to turn around to grab a bottle from the counter behind her- and her eyes met his just as she reached for it. Was the room getting warmer, or just her? Christ Almighty-
“Yo, Ri-Ri! Wanna go check on your "friend”~? You’re off in five, anyway, I can handle the drinks.“
Riley’s expression dropped into one of deadpan as she met her boss, Mandy’s, gaze across the bar. "Har har, hilarious DeeDee.”
But that sarcasm wasn’t going to stop her happy ass from practically skipping closer to Lewis, swallowing around nothing as she gathered her courage. She leaned up close, one arm braced against the counter and the other on her hip. She gave him a look of her own, half lidded eyes and a sly little smirk as she lowered her voice so only he could hear.
“You’ve got a lotta nerve, honey, starin’ at me like that while I’m still on the clock.~”
“Oh~?” Lewis couldn’t help the fun-loving grin perking up upon his fabricated warm, tawny features. Letting out a coy chuckle, he takes his companion’s silent invitation to claim himself a spot in her space; be it leaning forward onto the bar counter, resting his crossed forearms with some relaxed glee, as well. “Am I not allowed to admire a good, hardworking woman as she’s making her mark on the world? Or–,” he flips down his shades with a tilt of his head, giving Riley an unconcealed, ghostly wink–, “do I need to take you out on the town to show you off instead, señora?”
Even beneath the watchful gaze of the mostly empty bar, this towering fellow had quite the daring boldness to look Riley down like she were one of his favorite, baked goods; something sweet, sugary, and delightful like honeyed eye candy he couldn’t help but eye with feverish curiosity. From the way the low limelight blanketed over his companion’s form, with it framing the playfully enticing sway of her hips and it capturing the natural way her eyes seemingly sparkled for him alone, by Vivi’s name he should’ve considered himself lucky he managed to shoot his shot without immediately blowing a fuse out of that pretty head of his. His locket pounded hard against his chest. A dark, warm blush was threatening to creep up upon his cheeks. “Estás lista para salir?” He snaps his sunglasses back up onto the bridge of his nose in that instant before turning his head off to the side, as if all the bottles of alcohol were suddenly more interesting than his newfound date. Well, it’s better for his dignity than to lose face already. “You seem like you want something to nibble on already, Ri-Ri.”
It’s only a one off comment. But with the way she’s already looking at him? He knew well more than enough Riley’s got more buzzing ideas stirring behind those loving eyes than he had with keeping this invitation as a simple dinner date. Maybe he was just imagining things again and getting ahead of himself with getting her out of here already. Who would know for sure though?
He shifts his gaze back down towards the other for another moment, if with a bit more painstaking effort done to keep himself from going totally coy. “Is there something you have in mind for tonight, Cupcake?” He then asks. “You said something over the phone you wanted to do something tonight.”
#Ah! I love acting! {RP Thread}#Oh my sweet lil Lulu~! {Lewis}#Write it down! {Canon}#Icon Cred: danicloth#I'll die a happy man.. Lovers come and go but you're the one that's got my heart [ xsprxsso - Lewis/Riley ]#xsprxsso#long post cw //#((they're both dumb and I love them))#((at least they get to hold hands and stuff like idiots together tho))#((also I hope you don't mind that I put this in a seperate post! Tumblr was being stupid with the formatting and it wouldn't let me trim it#like usually :/))
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Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (II)
Summary: You crash the wedding with Grim and Ortho. Unlike the others, proposing isn’t on your mind. You come with a very different approach.
An angstier take on Ghost Marriage. Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)
Warnings: none
If the students of NRC thought they’ve seen Eliza at her angriest, they were wrong. The fury she displayed now was incomparable. While Idia fawned over your dramatic anime-worthy entrance, the new interruption was getting on her last ghostly nerve.
“Guards! Seize them!” she roared. Immediately, the ghosts went into action. Idia held his breath as he watched the obedient ghosts charge at you, Grim, and Ortho. He hoped you didn’t barge in with no plan. If you didn’t come equipped with useful items, you would end up like everyone else.
Chubby, determined to get rid of the intruders that caused distress to his beloved princess, was eager to get rid of you. (”Simp”, Idia muttered) However, eagerness wasn’t enough against an opponent equally as determined. As soon as he got too close, an unknown force threw him backwards to where Eliza floated, shocking the princess.
“Chubby! Are you alright?”
Idia, on the other hand, was elated.
“Th-that’s so OP!” he exclaimed. He knew you heard him, because your gaze flicked to him for a split second before looking away. Embarrassed, Idia shut his mouth. He’d expected at least a smile.
After Chubby’s failed attack, other ghosts attempted to face your group. They only met the same fate. Confused, they could only pay their apologies to the princess and watch on in helplessness. Just what did you have up your sleeve? Who did you get such an SS-tier item from?
“Princess, it’s impossible to stop them!” the last of Eliza’s guards told her. For the first time that night, she looked afraid.
Grim guffawed, while you smirked. A familiar look. It was always there before you jumpscared an enemy, or before you checkmated a poor opponent. Idia might have thought it was kinda hot. At the moment, he was oblivious to his gaping mouth, and how wildly his hair blazed. What were once lightly blushing tips were now an alarming red—a level of ferocity never seen from him before.
“You can’t touch or hurt us!” boasted Grim, a devious smirk on his face. “We had some he—mprfgh!” He was abruptly cut off by Ortho’s robotic arm covering his mouth. Idia’s brother shook his head at your noisy dorm mate.
“Release my big brother now!” he demanded. Idia grimaced, but didn’t feel too worried. As long as Ortho was with you and your anti-ghost protective shield, he would be safe.
As expected, the ghosts were affronted.
“How dare he order the princess like that?”
“You ought to be punished for your insolence!”
“To intrude on a royal wedding and speak disrespectfully!
“Send them to the gallows!”
One talked, and one talked over the other. Soon, all that could be heard was an unintelligible susurrus of disembodied voices. One ghost had enough of it, and shouted to Eliza: “Princess, the kiss! Do what must be done!”
“NO!” You and Ortho yelled at the same time. You continued to walk towards the makeshift altar as your two companions followed close behind. Ghosts rushed to block your path, but you pressed on as your invisible shield threw them back. It looked absolutely badass. Well, anything you did was cool to Idia, anyway.
“Out of my way!” You commanded, strong and unwavering. He’d seen you annoyed and angry before, but never up to this point. It basically radiated off of you that a danger warning could be floating above your head.
“S-so intimidating... “
“So scary!”
Sure, this wedding crasher looked like you, but something was different. An unexplainable sinister aura wreathed you tonight. Was it your glare, or was it that regal suit you wore? Idia must have been too distracted by you, that he only noticed now how your cape seemed to drag shadows with it. You were a villain... much like one of the villains from his video games! And something else that was familiar.
Whatever it was and wherever it came from, there was a menacing presence in the hall tonight.
All were silent, except for the wind whistling through the hall. If one listened more carefully, they would hear drowned-out cackles. But it is just the wind, right?
“Wh-who are you?” Eliza finally asked. The ghosts who were ashamed at being unable to seize you began to form a protective ring around their princess. Eliza herself, Idia noticed, was starting to curl in on herself—her presence shrinking the closer you approached. “What do you want?”
“The groom,” was all you said, staring her down as if eyes alone could exterminate the ghost in front of you.
“Idia?” she asks weakly, glancing at her tied-up groom. Idia said nothing and did nothing but look at you, attempting to telepathically communicate his panic. You barely even looked at him.
“He’s mine.”
Hold up—?
More gasps and chatter. They sounded less like whispers and more like the buzzing insects he heard whenever he snuck out at midnight. The world spun. Idia stared at you open-mouthed.
If he were asked to describe his state of mind at this moment, it would be similar to a loading screen. Suddenly, everything you did together played back in a 1.75x supercut sequence.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
“Wh-what?” Eliza sputtered. “What do you mean?”
You answered her, voice losing the steadiness it possessed just moments ago. “You have the man I love.”
Wha…
KDJAFCKSAJHDKACBSXCJSIEUDS?
Idia.exe has crashed. Reboot?
~~
The audience’s reactions were varied. Some students on the floor were amused by the spectacle and could have used some popcorn (and a comfortable position) during these times. Some were horrified and disappointed by the idea of the prefect being in love with Idia Shroud the shut-in. Some were much too confused to feel anything.
“Pardon…? What did I just hear?” Azul asked the floor.
“Puppy love,” Lilia wept, sniffling very loudly. “You know, this reminds me of when I was young...”
“Whaddaya mean when you were young?!” Floyd snapped. His irritability had spiked up even more when you arrived. His position prevented him from witnessing the events. Everyone on the floor could feel his bad mood rolling off of him in waves.
“Hey! Watch your tone when speaking to Lilia!” scolded Sebek.
“... Are they acting?” Leona mumbled.
“Oh, this better be an act.” said Vil. “... though it does not seem to be.” The last part of his observation remained unheard by anyone else, except for Rook.
“I believe we are witnessing a genuine love confession,” added the Chasseur d’Amour himself, voice soft as he sighed dreamily. “Engrave this moment into your memories, everyone! We are fortunate to witness it…”
But no one shared his enthusiasm about the situation. The others expressed their displeasure by groaning and complaining. “... well, even in this state we are in?” he added as a follow-up.
~~
Reboot.
You once fell asleep on Idia’s shoulder after finishing a movie. It was something you both only watched to make fun of, but you were apparently too tired to give your top-tier jokes and meme references. The contact sent his heart into overdrive as he froze, begging for option boxes to appear and help him. The flames of his hair blazed so brightly that it woke you back up. It was embarrassing, and sometimes he would remember it late at night and cringe.
It was happening again, but worse. Any moment now, he was sure that he alone could burn down the cafeteria, if not the whole school. This was stupid. Why did he get that worked up over an obvious act? A mere ploy to get the ghosts to release him?
Reality catches up and deals him triple attack damage. Crowley probably put you up to this. You were probably annoyed that you were forced to do this, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t even look at him. It had to be the cruelest joke that fate ever threw his way.
“I can’t say I don’t understand you, Princess,” you tell Eliza, forcing a smile. “Idia is perfect, is he not?” He felt your eyes on him. This time, it was he who couldn’t quite meet your gaze. Looking down at the floor was all he could do; it couldn’t judge his blushing face. Only when the warmth in his cheeks faded did he feel it safe to look back up again.
“You see him, don’t you, Princess?” Your voice began to falter, losing the confidence and authority in it that scared the ghosts. “He’s so much more than what everyone else thinks! We agree on that, don’t we?”
Eliza’s face softened, nodding. “Yes. I’ve seen how these people insult him!” she tells you, gesturing to the ‘failed princes’ on the floor.
“But we’re still different,” you stepped closer, but still far enough so that your invisible anti-ghost forcefield wouldn’t activate. “You don’t want to marry Idia, you want to marry your fairytale prince.”
Eliza appeared to be genuinely confused. She looked around at her companions, before turning back to you. “What do you mean?”
“You’re in love with your ideals, not the person himself,” you explain. “You only chose him for his appearance. Am I right? His personality, likes and dislikes, and possible flaws don’t matter to you.”
Eliza seemed deep in thought. While she was silent, you release a bitter laugh and threw your hands up. “I mean, do you even know what his favorite candy is?”
Pomegranate drops. You asked to have some, but he refused to give you any. He wouldn’t tell you why, but he let you assume it was his favorite and didn’t want to share because of that.
That wasn’t it, though. Maybe he’d tell you once you were both out of here.
“You’ve never stayed up until 4am just to join him on a raid!” You waved your hands wildly, lost in your rant. Whether Eliza understood you or not, you seemed to have stopped giving a damn.
“Weak!” he teased, noticing your drooping eyelids and reduced concentration. Deep down, he felt bad for keeping you up late. “Look, it’s fine if you need to rest.”
“Nah, let’s finish this. What are you going to do without me?” you replied, smirking.
“You don’t even have 4-hour conversations with him on Magicord VC like I do!”
It lasted up until 3am. You two were laughing at memes. He could hear a groggy Grim complain in the background about the noise.
“Alright. Here’s a question, princess. How much would you risk for the man beside you right now? Bet that’s where we’re different...”
Eliza’s gaze darted back and forth between you and Idia. Even the other ghosts were silent, waiting for your next words.
“... because if you ask me, I would risk everything! That’s why I’m here wearing this stupid suit!”
It’s not real. It’s not real. The emotion behind every word was a punch to the gut. If you kept this up, he might need a healer soon. Ever since he realized he was falling, he tried to quell the sparks of hope you ignited whenever you did something nice for him. All that hard work was gone. Each word you uttered was gasoline.
“To think that if I arrived minutes later… th-that I would never see him again!” A sob escapes your throat, your intimidating persona crumbling.
No, don’t do that. Idia wanted to reassure you that he was still there and he was okay, but he couldn’t. It’s part of an act. It’s part of an act.
“So please… just let him go.” The front you wore has completely dissolved. There you were, reduced to a sobbing mess in front of a ghost princess and the students of NRC.
You weren’t the only one. All traces of anger or fear have vanished from Eliza’s face. Instead, she put her hands over her mouth. The princess had been moved to tears. Finally, she turns to Idia. “Idia, they seem to l-love you very much… ”
“That’s right.” You wiped your tear-streaked face and pointed an accusing finger at the ghosts. “And all of you! Are you going to enable her forever? Encourage her shallow ideas of what love should be?”
They all looked down, unable to meet your eyes.
“You have no right to just snatch him up and claim him as yours,” you told Eliza with an unfaltering resolve, despite your tear-covered face and your crumbled front of strength. “Did you never think… that there could have been someone waiting for him to return?”
“I-I never meant to!” Eliza cried. “I was so blinded by my own happiness. I never thought… never even considered…”
“Princess, it’s alright. We all make mistakes.” Chubby told her, trying to be reassuring.
“Tell me, intruder. How else am I going to find my prince?” she asked you with no trace of hostility. You stopped for a while, staring at her.
You must not have expected the question. Idia saw you look at him—it was the longest time you’d looked at him all evening. Clearing your throat, you began to explain. You fumbled a bit, scratching the back of your neck and tugging at the hem of your coat as you explained what a perfect partner should be.
As you spoke, Idia was enthralled by your voice and most of all, the knowledge you possessed about love and romance. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. How did he ever think that a hundred dating sims could make him a romance expert?
“Is that so?” she sighs, bowing her head. “I understand now. I’m so sorry… for causing you so much grief.”
She turns to her companions, giving them a sad smile. “There’s only one thing to do. Everyone, we must stop this wedding.”
Idia wanted to fall to the floor in relief. At least a few exhausted sighs and weak cheers could be heard from the wedding “attendees”. You fell to your knees, exaggerating your gratitude.
“Thank you, princess!”
“But Princess… what about your happily ever after?” Chubby interjected.
“I can’t tear two lovers apart!” Eliza wipes a few of her own tears, then turns to you. “I was deeply moved by your words. I dream of having a lover like you,” she sighs dreamily, probably imagining her future lover already.
While the students of NRC rejoiced at this victory, Idia’s heartbeat quickened in fear. What if Eliza decided to take you for herself?
“Princess…” Chubby muttered, sighing. Eliza only gave him a reassuring smile. Phew. Idia relaxed, grateful that she doesn’t have the idea… yet. He didn’t know what to do if that thought became reality.
Eliza turns to address the hall with a smile. “I have decided.” Everyone waited with bated breath for her announcement. Idia squeezed his eyes shut and silently urged her to announce their departure already.
“Idia and I will not be married anymore. She smiles wide, and clasps her hands together. “However, there will still be a wedding!”
Your smile faded. “What… what do you mean, princess?”
She beams. “To make up for my mistake, I will make sure that Idia and his lover are married tonight!”
~~
To be continued.
Tagging: @teashopwritingzz @twistedcrumbs
Well, that was long. To think that I was planning for the story to be a one-shot! Once again, keep an eye out for Part 3. Thank you for reading!
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)
#twst x reader#twst fic#idia x reader#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#rewritten
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If you're free can you please do Fugitives part 3? 🥺 ik you posted it just a while ago, BUT IT'S SO GOOD😭 can't wait till Villian is healed up again!! 😭
Thank you so much for the ask!
Fugitives Part 3
Part 1, Part 2
@teheranb I didn't know if you wanted to be tagged in this continuation or not.
I apologize this is shorter than normal, but I liked how it ended.
Warnings: exhaustion, lack of trust, malnourished, fatigue, forced loss of consciousness
~
After only a second, Villain's breaths quickened, but he did not wake. Some color returned to his pale face, but that was it.
"Who are you?" Hero asked, protectively wrapping her body around Villain's with a glare to her face.
"The person who is saving you," the masked stranger grumbled in reply, positioning himself to lift Villain off the cave's cold floor.
"No!" Hero exclaimed, pressing her hand against Villain's chest in a sporadic attempt to keep him close to her. "Don't touch him."
"He needs medical assistance, that serum won't heal him," the stranger said, taking Hero's hand and easily placing it at her side. She bristled, preparing to lash out, but the man held her weakened body back.
"Don't exert yourself," he instructed. "We still have a ways to walk."
"Don't touch him," Hero growled. She knew that she wasn't being reasonable. She knew that the stranger was just trying to help, but maybe she was just overly protective of Villain to the point of not letting even good people touch him.
"I have to," the stranger pointed out. "We need to move and you are barely strong enough to walk yourself."
The man was right. Hero knew this, but it was still uneasy. Therefore, she picked the upper half of his limp form up and laid it closer to her. The stranger sighed, rubbing his mask.
"Listen," he said. "I'm trying to be reasonable. Let me help you."
Hero pressed her cheek into Villain's neck, throwing her legs over Villain's knees. She could feel Villain's chest falling and rising against her's and took comfort in it.
"Don't hurt him," Hero whimpered, tears pricking at her eyes.
"I won't, I won't, I promise," the stranger replied.
"What if you're a hero?" Hero whined pathetically. "Going to kill us?"
"I'm not a hero!" The stranger was on his hands and knees now, desperation vividly apparent. "Let me help you."
Hero shook her head. She couldn't let this man hurt Villain.
"Relax," the stranger murmured. "Let me help you. Let me help him."
Hero shook her head.
"Relax."
Another shake.
"Then I am sorry about this," the stranger apologized. Hero just had a brief moment of thought before two hands encassed her head, the word "sleep" uttered, and then all went black.
Hero awoke to the soft crackling of a nearby firestove. She groaned, body aching and incredibly tired, but she felt more rested and peaceful than ever. She started to roll onto her side to get a couple more minutes of sleep, but her eyes shot open instead.
Villain. The stranger. Villain and the stranger.
Hero rolled back over, nearly falling of the cot she was laid upon, and looked hurriedly around.
A fireplace was in the corner, fueled by a moderately stocked pile of wood, with a large stone in front of it. There were woven mats of ivy and sticks in a diamond shape- giving the table four- laid upon the smooth surface.
And in front of the fire, on a cot, laid Villain.
Hero jumped off of the cot, ignoring how her legs immediately turned to jelly and how her vision turned into pins of black, and stumbled over to Villain. She bumped into the oddly placed stone on her way over and was more than thankful when her knees buckled next to Villain.
She didn't say anything, just laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Sleep was coming near, but one thought infiltrated her hazy mind.
The stranger would be coming.
But still, sleep took her back under and all those thoughts washed away.
When Hero came to once again, she almost instantly came to the conclusion that she was not reclining against Villain anymore. With an experimental tap to the hard, but comfortable, block below her, she knew that she was back on the cot.
"Villain?" She whimpered, feeling around aimlessly for any signs of her companion, but found none. He was gone, and she didn't have the strength nor the resolve to open her eyes and look for him.
"Good you're awake."
That brought her out of her exhausted bindings.
Hero's eyes snapped open, darting to the figure looming above her. He was familiar even though he didn't have a mask on.
"You're a hero!" She gasped, pulling away. "You-you made me sleep. You're powered, unless you're a villain... oh don't hurt me. Don't hurt him. Please I'm begging you, just leave us alone. Just... just..." Hero trailed off as she felt her head nod, head feeling fuzzy. She was so tired and hungry.
"Shh, shh, shh," the stranger whispered. "Stop that. Rest, okay? You need it. Villain is in good hands, I assure you."
"No, no, no," Hero crunched her forehead. "He isn't. He is going to be arrested and tortured and experimented on. Leave him alone, please. Let me have him... have him, see him."
Hero knew her pleas were that of pure nonsense.
"You want to see him? You can. Okay? Just here, let me help you," the stranger's arms wrapped around her body.
Hero flinched, a miniscule protest against the gesture. She wouldn't let him carry her. Not to the other heroes to dispose of her.
"Let me help you."
"No," Hero growled, eyeing the stranger with angled eyes. "Never."
The stranger backed up, opening his arms in an invitation to walk herself. Hero accepted it, rotating both legs off the bed and pushing up...
She landed in the strangers arms, one wrapping around her back as the other hugged her torso.
"Let me go!" Hero snarled, legs splaying outwards. "Now!"
"Don't you want to see Villain."
"I don't want you touching me, hero."
The stranger was silent as he hauled Hero back into the cot. "Okay then lay here and I will bring Villain to you."
"No! Carry me, carry me to him. Just don't touch him."
The stranger smiled wryly and picked Hero up in a bridal carry. She briefly registered the strength of his biceps, but quickly dismissed that discovery.
The stranger led her back to the fireplace, and helped her to the ground. Villain still slept there, but something was different about him.
His shirt was stripped off, allowing the two bullet wounds to be exposed to the air around him. His ribs protruded out of his skin as his torso sunk in. He was heavily malnourished, and being sick and hurt did nothing more than speed of the process of utter starvation.
His face was still ghostly pale, but Hero couldn't tell if it was better or worse than their time spent in the cave. Two blotches of red sat high on his cheekbones as sweat gathered under his eyes and around his hairline.
"He looks horrible," Hero commented, leaning against the cot. She sat on her knees, but those soon gave out, and she was sitting completely on the ground.
"You don't look much better," the stranger took a place across from Hero, his back towards the fire.
Hero didn't reply and ran a finger over Villain's cheek. His eyelids fluttered before opening, gazing at Hero with a clouded gaze.
"Heh-heh," he wheezed, reaching towards her weakly.
"Villain?" Hero's voice was elevated into a high octave as tears threatened to spill. She grabbed his hand and rubbed it tenderly.
Villain's eyes started to drift shut again as a smile formed on his lips.
"I'm tired," he mumbled drowsily, eyes once again cracking open.
"Me too," Hero said. "Me too."
She closed her eyes and scooted herself so that her head rested on the mattress, needing Villain's closeness. Villain seemed to desire it as well, as he curled himself towards her body.
Hero barely heard the stranger stand up as he left, but did feel the softness of a blanket as it was draped across her body.
"My name is Vigilante," the stranger whispered as Hero snuggled into the blanket. "Sleep tight."
#villain whumpee#hero whumpee#villain x hero#vigilante caretaker#heros and villains#writing#malnourished#exhausted whumpee
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