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star-girl69 · 3 months

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Apocalypse

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

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synopsis: a day of capture the flag, and clarisse finds out you’re ashamed of your scars.

a/n: love love love love love also from this ask

Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

warnings: shitty ending but IDC!!!!!!!, hurt/comfort, more hurt/comfort, god i need to be put down, insecure y/n, scars and all that stuff, possessive clarisse, protective clarisse, soft clarisse, probs ooc clarisse, yeah, swearing, mentions of food, mac n’ cheese is y/n’s fav but you can just pretend if you’re a weirdo and don’t like mac n’ cheese, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“I don’t get it,” he laughs. “How can you be a daughter of Aphrodite and still have those ugly scars all over you?”

You pretend like you don’t hear him, leaning your head back against the tree, staring up at the blue sky through the gaps.

Him and his two friends have been teasing you the entire 20 minutes you’ve been tied up to this tree, captured by the blue team.

That was horribly embarrassing, but you were doing your best to ignore it- instead doing your best to pray to whatever God would listen that Clarisse would win for the red team.

It’s just plain stupid. He’s been saying the same thing over and over again for 20 minutes- can he at least come up with something original?

Besides, you don’t see where he gets off from this. It’s not like you give any reaction, or even look at him. The most you give him is the occasional squeeze of your hands- imagining his neck under them.

“Maybe she’s forsaken you,” he hums, kicking at your limp leg.

You finally look up at him. You’re sitting on the ground, arms at your sides, back pressed to the tree and rope digging tightly into your chest.

“Maybe your mother gave up on you after the second scar,” he says, staring straight into your eyes. “And then you’ve just gotten uglier and uglier ever since.”

You have scars all over your body. Clarisse has them too, and she shows them off proudly, a dramatic story for each one. You have a horrible memory, so you don’t remember all of them- but the tiny one on your jawline is from you accidentally tripping with scissors in your hand as a kid.

Clarisse had laughed hysterically when you told her about that one, pulling you closer when you pouted, saying something about how she was going to carry all scissors for you in the future.

The one on your collarbone is from sparring gone awry. Clarisse likes to kiss that one- it’s silvery smooth, she says some bullshit about how it feels like your lips.

The big one on your arm is from some clawed monster getting a bit too close to you- slashing at your arm and leaving a permanent tattoo of your failure to kill the monster. Or at least successfully run away.

Then, there’s all the tiny ones you can’t remember.

The boy, you seriously don’t even know his name, looks at you. There’s fire in his eyes, he wants a fight, but you won’t give him one. Especially not when your stomach squeezes inside of you in a way that makes you feel like you might throw up.

The conch mercifully blows, even as you feel sick- you don’t want to let his words effect you. But you just can’t help it.

He gives you an odd look, like he’s contemplating just leaving you out there- but eventually releases you. You stand up, dusting yourself off, grabbing your sword from where it was discarded on the ground.

“Good game!” you say, smiling brightly, but you can’t even pretend to be nice to him, so it tapers off into a laugh. He glares at you, but you’re already jogging through the woods, eager to see Clarisse again.

—-

The blue flag waves proudly above a sea of orange camp t-shirts and red helmets, so you smile widely and skip down to the beach. Your team has formed this huge pit of people, everyone congratulating each other, shouting and celebrating. You stick your sword in the sand as you head into it- one person on your mind.

“Clarisse!” you shout, heading straight towards the middle. “Clarisse!”

She actually rips apart two people hugging to meet you.

“Baby!” she says, even when the two people give her dirty looks, pushing past them and into your arms. “We won!” she giggles, kissing your cheek.

“I know,” you smile, digging your face into her neck. She holds you there for just a moment, hand on the back of your head, relishing in the feeling of her girlfriend running to her after a long day.

“Are you tired?” she fusses, squeezing your waist. “What happened? Did you get hurt? I knew I should have made you stay with me-”

“No, Clar,” you laugh, taking your face out of the hiding spot that is her neck and pressing your noses together. “I got captured,” you sigh.

Her fingers wind through your hair.

She scans the crowd, like she might just beat up any random member of the blue team.

“If they don’t learn to not fucking touch you I am going to make them learn.”

“Guard dog,” you tease her.

“And?” she says, leaning down to kiss the scar she loves kissing, right at the beginning of your collarbone. It makes you freeze. “You love it,” she mumbles against your skin.

You can’t think of an answer.

When you stay silent, she looks up at you, confusion in her face.

“What? You look… sad. Did something happen? What aren’t you telling me?”

“N-nothing,” you breathe, because it’s just embarrassing to know you let his words get to you like this.

“You can tell me anything,” she says, searching your eyes.

“I know.”

The conch blows, making you jump at the sudden loud noise. “Lunch!” someone shouts, and Clarisse settles for just grabbing your hand, walking with you back to camp.

—-

You stop by your cabins first, taking off your armor and switching into clean camp shirts. You hesitate for a second, but eventually put on a thin long-sleeved shirt under the orange.

You take extra care in reapplying your makeup, making sure to cover the scar on your collarbone and your jaw, and once everything is as covered as it’s gonna get you set out.

Clarisse is waiting for you outside the Aphrodite cabin, smiling as you open the door, applying lipstick with one hand. She grabs your hand and helps you down the steps, admiring the way you’re so intensely focused on getting the perfect lip, even without a mirror.

It’s not like you have to try very hard, but still.

“I don’t mind waiting a second longer,” she says, bringing you closer by the waist as you tube the lipstick and stick it in your pocket.

“You’re a hungry demon after capture the flag.”

“Yeah,” she says, not really trying to deny it.

You smile and lean against her, pressing a short kiss to your lips.

“Oh, do I look pretty now?” she asks, rubbing in the lipstick that came off onto her lips.

“Always,” you smile.

Her eyes focus in on the green sleeves pulled up to your wrists.

“It’s, like, 100 degrees, baby. You’re gonna boil.”

You frown and shake your head. “No, it’s not that bad. I’m cold.”

She looks at you oddly, but seems to begrudgingly accept it, hand against your forehead as she brushes your hair back. You make it into the buffet style line for lunch, grabbing plates, Clarisse quickly piling hers with a cheeseburger and a hot dog, making you laugh.

“You’re so hungry, all the time,” you mutter when she gives you a dirty look.

“I work out all the time,” she glares. She flexes her arm. “All of this takes a lot of work.”

You stare at her muscles peeking out from just under her sleeves, biting your lip as you quickly look away. She smiles brightly.

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought. You love these muscles, don’t judge me.”

You make your way down the line, scanning the trays of food.

“Ooh,” Clarisse coos, “They have your fave, pretty thing.”

She scoops probably the biggest portion of mac n’ cheese you’ve ever seen in your life, slapping it onto your plate with a smile.

You gape at the now almost empty tray, remembering the still long line behind you. Hopefully there’s another one somewhere.

“Clarisse, we should save some for everyone else.”

She seems actually confused by that statement.

“Uh, yeah, no. My girl gets the best.”

“Clarisse-” but you’ve reached the end of the line and she heads off to a table. You follow her, begrudgingly, because you really do covet this mac n’ cheese like it’s ambrosia.

—-

By the time the night rolls around, you’ve retreated into the blankets of your bed, feeling much safer completely covered up. You’re supposed to be going to the bonfire- all of your siblings have come over and bugged you at least once about going, but you’ve refused them all.

Finally, all of your siblings leave in their pretty but revealing outfits- after today, you don’t think you could ever wear something like that again.

The door to your cabin creaks open.

“Y/N?”

You make a mumbled sound in the back of your throat that’s supposed to resemble “I’m here” but Clarisse is already walking over to you and pulling the blanket off of you.

“Silena told me you were staying back. Why?”

You pull the blanket back up over yourself.

“I’m jus’ tired.”

“Okay…” she says, sitting down on the bed. She puts her warm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick? Do you have a headache?”

“No, Clar, I’m fine.”

“I’m confused,” she huffs. “You love the bonfires. Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you tell me?”

“I’m just tired, Clarisse, that’s all.”

“Fine,” she says. “I can be tired too.”

She kicks off her shoes and climbs into bed with you, under the blankets, chest pressed against your back.

“I’m not good at this. You know that,” she sighs after a second. “And I wish I was. But I do know something’s wrong. And I really don’t know for the life of me what it is, but I really want to know. I really want to help you.”

She traces her fingertips up and down your arms, tracing over the silvery scar from the monster- and you involuntarily jerk away.

“Oh,” she says. She’s painfully observant. She notices everything. She notices you pulling away when she touches your scars. “Your scars.”

Tears well in your eyes before you can stop them.

“W-when I got captured, this boy kept teasing me. And I tried not to let it bother me, I tried not to give him a reaction… but I just- what if I’m not worthy of my mother anymore? It’s embarrassing. I know. But I…”

“Who the fuck said that to you?”

She sits up, eyes blazing, like she can just imagine it and whoever hurt you will suddenly feel her wrath.

You turn around so you’re facing her, laughing.

“I don’t even know his stupid name,” you mutter.

She looks down at you, at the tears spilling from your pretty eyes.

“I’ll kill him later,” she mumbles, settling back down and kissing the corner of your cheek. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, baby. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’ve never met your mother, of course, so I can say that without getting us both struck down by doves, or something.”

You swat her chest.

“I’ll kill you with doves, watch me.”

She hums. “Probably. Okay, stop. You’re getting me off topic.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m not good with my words,” she whispers. “But I hope I show you everyday that you are the only woman I have eyes for. This is, like, really embarrassing… but I’ve planned out our entire lives together. We’re gonna go to to college in Arizona by my mom, we’ll have an apartment off-campus, and after we graduate we’ll get married. I really wanna be married to you. And I don’t care if that’s cheesy, I just really want you to look at the ring I’ll give you and be able to feel all my love. Besides, if you ever want to get away from me, it’ll be a hell of a lot harder.”

“I would never wanna get away from you, Clar,” you smile. “It’s not embarrassing. I wanna go to college in Arizona. I wanna marry you.”

“Good, because you didn’t really have a choice,” she smiles.

“And you’re plenty good with your words.”

“Yeah… okay, I guess. But let me show you, too.”

“What does that even-”

She shuts you up by kissing your lips.

“I love your lips. I love how soft they are, and how they feel so perfect against me.”

She kisses your cheek.

“I like your cheeks for the same reasons.”

Your temple, your forehead, your nose.

“Same reasons,” she smiles.

Finally she ends up at your jawline. She rubs over the scar, taking concealer and foundation with the pad of her thumb.

“And I love this scar. It looks kind of like a C, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Freak,” you huff, and she doesn’t have to say it. You both know you love it.

She kisses your neck and talks about how she loves the way you get mad at her for leaving hickeys, the dedication you pour into covering them up before you eventually decide it’s too much effort and let them show.

She kisses the scar on your collarbone.

“I like putting my head here, right under your chin. I can feel your pulse. I can hear you swallow, too, which is weird but also soothing.”

She kisses from your shoulder and down to your arm, skimming past the scar. She kisses the back of your hand and your fingertips.

“I love it when you braid my hair, or just put your hands in my hair for… other reasons.”

“Freak,” you mumble again. “You’re just obsessed with kissing me.”

“True,” she hums, kissing back up to your scar. “I don’t have anything poetic to say about this one. It’s just fucking badass. I mean, you got it when you were 12- you survived what most have been something truly monstrous to leave a scar like this, and that’s all you get? Most of the kids here would have died. Even the ones our age. And you escaped when you were only 12.”

You smile like a lovesick fool. The apocalypse could be going on outside, and you would just be here with Clarisse.

“In conclusion, your beauty is actually life changing. I mean, have you seen me? I become a total softie, just for you. And it’s all because I like seeing that pretty smile on your gorgeous face. But you frown pretty, too, which I didn’t even know was possible- so I win either way.”

You smile and put your hand on her face, kissing her softly.

“Thank you, Clar. For always taking care of me, and reassuring me…”

“It’s quite literally my job,” she smiles. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“You don’t even trust me, Little Miss Makes-My-Plate-For-Me.”

She laughs and presses her head under your chin, her hair tickling your skin, pressing a kiss to your scar.

“It’s my job,” she smiles. “As your girlfriend and future wife.”

“I love you, Clarisse,” you whisper, a secret just for the two of you. Nothing can have you here. No pain, no suffering.

“I love you too,” she says. “I love you so much, my beautiful, beautiful girl.”

—-

the kid who bullied you walking around with a big ass scar on his cheek the next day 😍😍😍😍😍 no….. no clarisse did not cut him with her spear….. ofc not….

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taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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alexlwrites · 3 months

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I'm very close to hitting 1k followers which is probs the wildest sentence i have written in this forsaken app (and i have written "dont bite the boob that feeds you) and, should i hit it, id like to give something as a gift to yall so please let me know what youd like to see

#bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #alexltalks #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #jin x reader #bts romance

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thatdogmagic · 1 year

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why is it so bad to like something problematic?

You're going to have to point me to where I said it was. Except you probably can't because--

--this is probably Forsaken guy, who has now eaten a block.

If this is a good faith question, however, here is my actual answer:

It's not-- assuming you can acknowledge and recognize its problematic elements, and don't just consume that media uncritically.

It helps, also, to refrain from harassing someone who says they don't like a thing's problematic elements, or to contradict them, or to tell them that their perspective on the matter is invalid because (reasons). All that says is that you got all defensive that someone called a thing you liked 'not really for me,' regardless of how much they finally managed to maybe-kind-of get right after 25+ years of trial and error.

Sometimes a bitch just gets tired. And sometimes I just don't wanna explain any further than that.

Anyway I hope this answer-you-prob-won't-see was worth the outcome. You must really love Forsaken. You should tell Onyx Path about it instead of wasting your time trying to make me explain myself.

#dogasks #you were warned

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cheemken · 5 months

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I’m thinking about Iris now and like, ough

You know there was a concept character that had fire powers, and I’m thinking that’s the power Alder and every previous Unovan Champion had

And ig a ceremony has to take place for the gifts to go from the previous champion to the new champion, kinda like the movie. And people get to watch the ceremonies :)

God, imagine being Iris, waiting anxiously for Alder to finish the prayer to Arceus, thanking him for the gift that protected his people. Then seeing him create a great blaze in the sky above the crowd (really just for show) before turning the fire into a small candle flame in his hand, ready to hand it off to Iris

And Iris was so ready, with Alder telling her the flame will not hurt to touch, that it’ll feel like a pleasant warmth engulfing her entire body. So with the reassurance she wastes no time in grabbing the flame with her hands

…only for her to drop the fire the minute Alder let’s go, pulling her hands back in pain, and the flame starts surrounding Iris with scalding fire that neither Alder or Iris can control. Quickly rising above her cutting off any chance for her to run

I imagine this is Arceus taking control of the flame and changing it so she will instead inherit a fraction of his power instead of the flames

But god, once the flames die down everyone is in a panic over what they saw while Alder and the rest of the League are trying to keep the peace

The rumours once the incident spreads. Was she not worthy? Did Giratina do something to corrupt it? Did she reject the gift at the last second?

But lmao yeah you got me thinking about Iris, love making angst for her

But about a storyline, I really got nothing. I just wanted to create angst lmao

Dude that got me feeling like

OUGH,,,,,,, NO CAUSE HCKDBFJD no cause imagine if Iris was still so young during that tho, like 12 at least, can you imagine how devastated she'd be, imagine how humiliated she is, how hurt she is, that Arceus didn't give her a gift. She's proven herself hasn't she? She beat Alder fairly, helped defeated Plasma too, helped everyone in the region the best she could, why,, why didn't she get a gift?

And her mind is just racing w all these thoughts, she starts spiralling, she feels like shit man that she ran away when Alder and Drayden tried to comfort her. And god just hcmdndn Arceus never wanted her to feel like shit, he wanted her to be the one to truly inherit his gift, but he knows that his power wasn't like the gifts he gave the rest of the champions, she really has to train herself hard and work for it for her to be able to use it, but she doesn't even know it exists, she thinks she's cursed

Years went by, she still believed Arceus has forsaken her, Drayden was trying to encourage her that she doesn't need a gift to be a good champion, she's doing well as it is, but it's the pressure y'know, being w the other Champions and how they have their own gifts, she feels like she's an outcast

Now 15, three years since Cynthia suddenly vanished, the same day she became champion too, suddenly she hears more rumours abt the champions, imagine that's how she'd slowly start to realize she does have a gift, like she starts from Geeta bc that's where she probs heard the rumours too, and Geeta finally opens up to someone abt it, and like bcmdnd idk, she's slowly starting to realize just how much the gifts mess up the champions too, how people expect so much from them, and found out why Cynthia suddenly vanished too

Idk like the movie, Iris trying to search for Cynthia, ofc maybe Cynthia has answers, maybe she knows what the future will be, is this making sense chmdndmd

Like, maybe she and Hau are trying to figure out some way to help the other Champions y'know, and through it all, Iris is slowly but surely figuring out that maybe she does have a gift, she just has to dig deeper to find it, to tap into it, to finally use it to help the others too

But you are so right abt the angst omf the Dia angst in this I cannot fucking wait cbdndn hahaha

#it would also be dope tho cause like yeah #you said alder and the former unova champions has that fire gift #it would be cool if iris actually manages to do that too throughout her journey #like a tiny ember at first yknow hahah #but also idk if this is too much but i think iris deserves it #but imagine if she can somewhat mimic the gifts of the other champions #bc ofc it was arceus who gave it to them #and arceus gave half of his powers to iris #so shes bound to be able to use the gifts of others too once she reaches her potential #idk i think thatd be dope hahaha #pokemon champions #encanto au #an ask and an answer #jerseyk112

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aidsyouinthinking · 6 months

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Inktober dagger

Mental Daggers In sheep’s clothing, a self-appointed wolf attends masquerade that’s everlasting. Fearing no mask they naturally strut. Facade forsaken; someone contrasting! They glide weary, close; now into view, kinship; harmony: what they’ve been fasting.

At first walking tightrope across the ground, Absent minded, wire raise, up on high.

The air is thinner, mind nullify. Inhaling; gasping- too little: they come round. Wind will whisper, soon alerted to the sound, hysterical, fear struck, do not die! Heart a flutter not enough to fly, fear to breathe, look, or feel: the mind resound. Flailing turned falling, our person earthbound, undeluded; wire loose, mind did lie.

Like flipping a dagger it can be hard: The dread from hoisting self on own petard. But your poise and wit are skills trained with time: Keep twirling that dagger to their shared rhyme. Dropping the dagger, they are cut. The searing pain drives through them but they now feel how it is to bleed, and for which will hopefully lead: to realisation of no damnation; at worst stagnation: preform ablation.

------------------------------------------------------- This ones been in the oven for a few of days, wanted to make it juuuust right, though could be better, as is with any art. I've got some other ideas that I can illustrate and elaborate on, but the well is noticeably dry, not certain I'll be able to make a poem for each day, but making something at all is... well something :) Prob gonna make a poll after this for another favourite poem check in Anyway, may your next rest be at least longer than 20 minutes

#inktober #original poem #poem #poetry #inktober2023 #inktober dagger #dagger #plans #blog #Fortune telling for length of dream #only tho so not that great #tw social anxiety #tw paranoia #tw #tw existential dread #tw mental health

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vicecityhq · 2 years

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██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: firey pentagrams, a gaping maw, bloodied hands praying over a rosary . With a slight resemblance to CHAE HYUNGWON of/the MONSTA X/MODEL/ACTOR.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Cho Doyun Alias: the Chariot Realm of birth (if earth, nationality): Korean Age: 27 Date of Birth: 01/15/1994 Gender: Cismale Preferred Pronouns: he/him Species: Human (Incubus possessed) Occupation: Unemployed (Former teacher) Sexual Orientation: ????

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Pale Eye color: Dark Brown Scars: None Piercings: Earrings but thats about it Tattoos: None Hair color: Black Abnormalities: Idk he’s a long boi Horns/ wings/ etc: None Transformed form: Upon full possession, hiseyes turn grey, his skin tinges a sickly sort of grey color beneath, his teeth become sharper. His shadow betrays him, showing the Incubus’ full physiology: bat wings, the tail, giant goat horns upon his head.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Used to be religious but being possessed probs means that you forsaken any god

SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath

VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / patience / justice / prudence

KNOWN LANGUAGES: English, and whatever archiac hell language the incubus speaks (admin note: it’s latin sejung)

SECRETS: He has no idea when the incubus takes over. He’s in a constant battle against it, pushing it out from his mind, but sometimes he becomes weak. allowing the thing to fully overcome him. He doesn’t kn ow what it does when it locks him away. He only awaken s later with a horrifying sense of dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

SAVVIES: Reading, proficiency in Literature

Powers & Abilities: the human has no discernable traits but the Incubus can induce sex magic

Traits: deeply righteous but is also really reclusive

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: 01/15/1994

Date of Death: N/A

Crime Record: None, but the incubus is trying to start a coup in Hell so ... there’s that

Background/Biography:

tw: Religious depictions, violence, content warning: if you are visually impaired pieces of the following text maybe hard to read/a strain on your sight.

The incubus rose.

Born from something deep within the fiery depths of hell itself, it claws its way out. It owns no name, no holding of any form in any realm for it to matter. It has become weak, and unfortunately, just a little bit desperate. It seeks power; a craving so deep and innate that it feels like it’s blood is bubbling over. For it’s millenium of living, it had known only squalor. It sought to sit upon that gilded throne at the very heart of the infernal underworld, but it was weak… powerless against demons that claimed higher positions in power over it. It hated it. It was filled with a sense of pride… it would become more than this…

Ĭ̸̧̻̭̺̮̙̞̺͚̹̭̺̱̟̺̈́̀͊̈́͆͂̎̓̈̀̀̏͆T̷̺̎ ̶̢͙͓̹̟̻̯̟͍̙̭̘̳̓̄̈́̂̎̉͆̂̈́͜W̴̧̛͕͓͙͉̞̺̰̆̓͒͑̐͂̽͠͝O̴̧̧͓̝̣͈̙̹̤̮̯̬͖̮͑̂̅̀̉̈́͑́͊̓̀͊̑͒͘Ū̴̟̱̣̝͎͌̎̿̽͌͠͝L̸̤̺̬̂͛̐̂͛̊̓͂̉Ḏ̴͚̄̓́̋͒̽̚͠͝ ̶͍̫͍̓̈̐̕͠I̶̢̧̩̮̦̲͓̻̱͕̋̊͌͐͠T̸̢̡̜͙̠̮͎̔́͛̃̓̂͑́̀̄̕ ̸̡̡̙̜͈̙̭̳̻̦͑͗̃̂̔̃͛̓W̶̡̺̖̱̠̖̦̬̙̤̗͉͆̕Ò̴̹͎Ứ̷̧̦̹̫͎͉͙̣̗̭͚̠̘̹͒̂̌̽͌͂̅͆͜L̸̝̼͉͔̿͆͒͆͛́̇̇̊̆͘͠D̸̨̧̡̯̱͚̬̩͊͂̄͗̑͆͜͝͝ ̷̳͕̥̒͆Ȉ̴̧̨̡̭̠̺̰͚̝̦̤̖̳́͐͌ͅT̸̡͍̱̺͛̄̐͒͒͑̈́͌̄̑͗͗̂̕͝ ̴̛̛̩́͗̀̋͊̊̓̈́̕Ẁ̷̡̧̜̝̘͓͚̪͇̙̖̣̹̔̃̀͂̓͆͂̕͘͘͝Ŏ̵̡̪͖͚̝̹̭̘̤͉̟̿͛̉̆̀̿̽͘U̴̫̰̗̭̙̜̣̦̠͚̖͚̭̬̾͝L̵̰̟̥̟̖̘̺͌̃Ḑ̴̢̧̰̼̝̗̰͙͌̉͛͌̽͘͜ ̷̘̗̹̈́͊͂̿͊̓̈́͒́̇̋̔͝I̴̛̹͈͓͚̞̓̈̌̎͛͐̋͋̉̎͂̉̚͝Ṯ̷̨̗̦̟̗̞̟̈́̏̒̀͑̿̈́́̓͌͊̎́̚ͅ ̴̡̩̫̻̯̹̗̝̳͇̬͕̐̂̉͛̅̐W̷̨̮̱̳̤̼͎͓̬̫̏̈ͅƠ̴̩͎̰̲̭̤̫̞̦͇͖̙͋͂̆̄̀̾̃̍̽̊̌̚͜͝Ų̷̞͖͉͍̈̓̈́́̆͛L̷̨̬̙̣̠̥̝̗̅̏̌̔̆͘͘͜ͅD̶͔̲͉̿͜ ̸̧͖̙̬̹̩̌̅̇͗̚͝IT -

It had risen.

It roamed the streets of the unnamed city in the realm of humans in an attempt to claim their souls and draw power from them. It was successful for a time, felt the body of itself bubble over with force as the souls sat in its stomach.

Soon. Soon it would return. Soon, it would raise the crown upon its head and sit on that throne. It would not be so powerless anymore. It would own hell, heaven, the earth… everything and nothing would become theirs. No force would be able to touch it.

But soon was not now.

The possibility of soon… it was what had weakened it.

The priest was nothing. Should have been nothing. The man was human, and therefore feeble despite the holy power he had wrought down upon it. It had no idea how the man had found him. The incubus had been hovering over the body of his latest conquest, maw still tinged with the flavor of that ravenous soul inside the back of its teeth. But it’s mindlessness after such an escapade had been its ruin. It had not sought to be as careful as it had been prior it seemed, for the priest had seemingly been following it for a while, waiting patiently for a moment to attack.

For a moment, it was overwhelmed with the feeling of rage, powerless against the man’s relentless attacks upon it.

The thing lay near-dead on the ground. The priest had stood over it for the briefest of moments, checking for death. But the thing about humans was that they were stupid… their humility would be their down fall. The man should have struck it again… just in case. But the man did not, simply walking away from it with the full confidence that he had rid the earth of it.

In a futile last effort, the incubus stood, crawling in the shadows after the man with the full knowledge that it would kill the man and the man’s family in retribution. It would make them hurt. It would be slow… painful and so excruciating that they would have wished for the earth to swallow them whole.

Even if it didn’t kill them, he would make them B̸͖̐Ų̷̾R̷̘̆N̴̤̈

MEANWHILE, AT THE SAME TIME

Doyun sat at the table with his mother, quiet conversation falling over the two as they waited for his father to come home. More often than not, the patriarch Cho would stay late at the church, waiting in the pews for late confessionals or something likened to it.

Doyun was a good kid. Smart, endlessly kind and witty and aiming for a full-time position at the elementary school he worked at. He went to church with his parents when he could, occasionally helped with activities there for the kids… he had lived about as quietly as one could.

He lived alone, but more often than not found himself at his parent’s home, just to visit and rid himself of the homesickness he felt despite the many years since he’d moved out.

From the front of the house, the door clicked open and then promptly shut again.

Doyun’s mother sat up, walking away from the table to greet his father while Doyun sat at the table patiently waiting for them both to come back. His eyes fell to the window, the city’s lights nothing more than mere specks in the distance.

He blinked.

For a moment, he could have sworn that the reflection in the glass was not his own. He did not possess grey eyes or a gaping mouth with sharp teeth. He blinked again and it was gone. Maybe coffee so late in the evening was not a good idea, seeing as it made his imagination run wild.

Through the doorway in the kitchen, his parents appeared, and he went to greet them, but not before seeing his own father throwing a worried look at the window.

LATER

Sleep came easily. It was not so difficult when one lived a life as busy as his. Lesson plans and grading homework was quite literally a handful, and he found himself all but passing out on his parent’s couch for the night, too tired to drive himself back across the city to his own place.

He never dreamed, almost too exhausted that his brain basically powered down, lulling him into nothingness. But that night, he dreamt. It was that same face from beyond the window, hovering over his form in the dream. It was as though he were on the outside looking in, and it felt so real that he could feel the thing’s breath on his face, a wing brushing at his arm… he twitched.

A̵̡̐L̵̲̄L̸͔̚ ̵̣̐Ŵ̴̲I̸̱͌L̶̜̊L̴͔̐ ̵͈͗B̶̞͋E̸̤͐ ̸̜̄W̵̯̃E̷̤͝L̶̨̈́L̶̓͜

Without even opening its gaping jaw, Doyun knew that it was speaking to him. The thing repeated that sentiment many times as it grasped one clawed hand at his mouth, pulling down at his jaw until it hung open. Doyun tried to move to stop it, but the image was so jarring that he was helpless to do anything else aside from watch.

No ceremony was made of the situation, just the sick feeling of watching his slack mouth connect with that other being’s. Nothing seemed to happen, just that strange show the demon put on as Doyun watched his own body.

And then he felt something.

Not in his body, but in his mind. It was as though something had entered a doorway up there and locked the door from the outside. It felt both numbing and burning, and he flinched away from the feeling as he felt his subconscious try to remove that alien thing from him.

It was so quiet. The quiet only grew, vibrating in the air until he was consumed by static as the demon turned from the limp body below him to stare straight at him, the version of him watching over this event unfold.

A̵̡̐L̵̲̄L̸͔̚ ̵̣̐Ŵ̴̲I̸̱͌L̶̜̊L̴͔̐ ̵͈͗B̶̞͋E̸̤͐ ̸̜̄W̵̯̃E̷̤͝L̶̨̈́L̶̓͜

Except this time, it sounded like his own voice, just crackling with static as though he were listening from a very old vinyl player.

And then he awoke.

Possession was never an easy thing. He had not even realized that it was more than just a horrifying nightmare just a few days later, when he awoke from sleep only to find himself in the middle of his classroom, all of his students staring at him in absolute horror with other teachers huddling in front of them.

That instance was enough for him to resign from his job, remove himself from everything he had worked towards for his entire life, hiding out in his apartment for days on end until he became nothing short of a recluse. He only went out when he deemed it extremely necessary, speaking little and hoping that the demon would not come out to play.

But the voice in his head was relentless, constantly at the forefront of his mind and recalling to him all the violence he wanted to put into effect, the horrible things he would do to him and his family and the world until it was granted enough power from him and the souls he collected.

It was like fighting a war from the inside out. No one was privy to the knowledge of what had happened that night, and even his father had not known what to do. The demon in his head made staticking noises in his head every time his father came around.

To seek exorcism and the removal of the demon from him, he went to just about every church and holy place that he could find, but the demon persisted. It latched onto him as though it were a disease… a well and full parasite inside his body. He felt hollow… he felt like a puppet whose strings were on too tight.

It was worse that, when he was completely powerless and the demon fully absorbed itself into him, he had no idea what went on. He would merely wake up, usually clean in his own bed or out in public with nothing more than that. Other times… he knew that the demon wanted to drive him mad, and took to leaving him amidst the gore and horror he’d left behind.

But nothing would stop him from seeing this come to an end. He would find a way to remove that demon, all while trying to keep his sanity intact.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

Doyun had woken up here, under the bright lights of the interrogation room in the precinct with no recollection of what had happened previously in the night. That familiar sense of dread fell upon him, sitting in his stomach and churning to the point where he felt that his insides would come out.

All he had remembered before waking here was that sinister voice in his mind, adamantly whispering ho him:

Ỹ̷͉Ō̷̬U̶̼͋ ̷̮̑Ṣ̵̈H̷̿͜O̸̩̾Ǘ̷͈L̷̞͛D̴͖͑ ̸̝̀K̶͇̃I̶̼̕L̶͚͊L̴̻͋ ̶̦̕Ṯ̵̀H̴̘͠Ḁ̶̎T̷̼̂ ̷̭̔G̸̛̥U̸̗̇Ȳ̶͚

He knew what the incubus wanted. He had no idea what it had done while taking over his body. The fear of that was nothing new to him, but it wracked at his nerves all the same. Swallowing down bile, he stared up at the officer questioning him as Doyun wrung his numb, cold fingers.

“I-I don’t know,” he mumbled, static lingering in his brain. It almost sounded like laughter.

The officer pressed, gentle but with an edge to his tone as Doyun sat stock-still in horror. “I don’t remember. All I saw was the man’s body on the ground… Nothing seemed wrong with him aside from the fact that he had passed out so I… I went over to him. I didn’t hear a pulse. I didn’t know what to do…”

He could feel tears stinging at the back of his eyes as he counted the situation. He remembered feeling the cold skin and seeing those unseeing eyes stare up above him. It was the demon’s more cleaner exploits, one he knew was meant to torment his mind than do anything else. The way the thing in his head so frivolously took to stealing the lives of others to torment him left him feeling even more sick.

The officer stared at him, brows furrowed as he took in Doyun’s pained expression. Neither of them spoke for a while, and the static pressed on.

“Okay,” the officer sighed after a while, “you should go home. Take your mind off the situation for the night and come back tomorrow.”

The officer let him out, leaving him at the front of the precinct’s doors with a small nod. The static grew stronger still.

i̵t̷ ̶w̸o̶n̵'̷t̶ ̷s̷t̵o̷p̶.̶ ̵ It said. ̸t̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶c̵o̷u̶l̶d̶ ̶e̴n̶d̴ ̸i̶f̷ ̷o̸n̸l̴y̸ ̴y̵o̴u̴ ̶j̶u̸s̴t̵ ̵d̸i̴d̴ ̸w̸h̴a̴t̸ ̵i̴ ̵a̸s̸k̴e̸d̵.̵

#vcaccepted #vccivilian #vcearthling #vcdarkspawn #rp #rpg #oc rp #oc rpg #gang rpg #gang rp #mafia rp #mafia rpg #supernatural rp #supernatural rpg #literate rp #literate rpg

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kvltprince · 5 years

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#wtf brain why are you like this #i know logically that answer is prob my meds plus painkillers is a bit dodgy #and kicks off the already not good lately cptsd #lol like we know that its not a good combo anyway blahblah #thwres a reason its a self medication for so many #still kinda want to vomit tho an thats new an interesting #thats not a thing thats usual unless somethings broken #and uh nothings broken vaquero im in decent shape physically for once other than my leg hurting #hum #do not like the stupid vagus nerve one bit #or my leg #its all stupid #im going back to sleep my cat has forsaken me

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vilejpg · 2 years

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fanclan stuff

came up w/ this a while ago- as in like a year ago- so here it is, ig

anyone can appropriate it if for some god forsaken reason they so desire to, just pls give credit ig?

Clan 1: Mesa Clan / Mountain Clan

Camp: At the base of the mountain, with a cave entrance (sized like this).

Inside the cave, there’s a dip in the ground where a pond used to be, which is used as a training arena. There are cliffs and ledges all over the cave, with ‘bridges’ between them made of tightly and carefully weaved sticks and stems. The entrance to the camp is hidden under ferns and aloe plants that they cultivate.

These cats have strong back legs and hardened paws, that help them jump and make sure they aren’t cutting themselves up every five seconds. Their claws are thick and hooked, all the better to catch and hold down lizards and geckos with.

Kits are kept in a nursery that’s completely bedded with moss, petals, and smooth rocks to protect their sensitive little paws as best as possible.

There is one area that is like… a miniature pride rock that can fit one or two cats on top of it. This is used as a gathering point, where the leader can call their clan together.

Here is what the surroundings of this clan looks like:

Summer

Spring/Fall probs

Winter

______________________

Clan 2: Desert Clan / Dunes Clan

Camp: A rather unremarkable area of land, with the only defining features being how it seems almost ringed by small cacti and large, flat rocks. At the edge of each flat rock, there’s a hole; the flat rocks acts as a sort of roof for this camps’ dens. (Like this, but like... imagine big flat rocks there too)

There is a skull with large, curled horns, with the top of the skull being flat enough and big enough to comfortably seat one cat in the center, as long as they can balance. Kits like to try and stuff themselves into the skull- it results in a fairly common occurrence of someone having to pry them out.

These cats have large feet that make it easier to walk through the sand without losing their footing, as well as to make it easier to dig. Hairy foot pads help with traction on the loose sand and to insulate it from the extreme hot and cold temperatures of the desert.

Their fur is short and coarse, generally. They are generally of lighter coat colors than the other clans, being anywhere from white to yellow to a very, very light orange, or a very, very light brown. (NOTE: these are guidelines, and don’t have to be strictly followed!)

They have a series of tunnels and burrows, used as a way to lure small animals that want to escape the heat of the sun into them. They can have very large, triangular ears to detect the movement of small prey underground and at a distance.

Here’s how it looks... there isn’t a whole lot of variation, admittedly.

______________________

Clan 3: Brush Clan(?) / Sparse Clan

Camp: This camp, unlike the others, isn’t built into the ground or into rock; instead, this clan utilizes the plants around them to create dens, hidden in the brush all around. (Think of it as similar to those ants who make homes out of leaves, but like… for cats.)

Cacti pieces can be stripped of their needles and used as a sort of makeshift wall, so long as they have something to hold it in place. If the cactus needles are thick enough, they can be used as a way to open infected wounds that had closed over wrong, or pop blisters.

Sometimes, a medicine cat takes time out of their day to put a little hole in the end of a needle, and use it as a way to stitch someone up. But that’s an uncommon usage of them, with both material strong enough to hold skin together and needles just large enough for holes to be made in the end of them being scarce.

These cats have hardened paw pads, and have an excellent sense of direction; its easy to get lost in their territory if you don’t have a good inner compass. These cats are bigger than the other clans’, if only because of the strength needed to regularly reinforce the walls and dens of camp. These cats have the second highest kits-per-litter, with Clan 4 taking the top spot easily.

This area is relatively close to Clan 1.

Here’s how it looks! It’s a lot more green.

______________________

Clan 4: Plains Clan / Lush Clan

Camp: With their territory having more trees than the others, they use it to their advantage. In the middle of their territory, there’s a copse of trees that, while not particularly tall, are large enough for cats to easily lounge in their branches, and mostly close enough to make crossing between trees easy. T

his clan, similar to Clan 1, have ‘bridges’ that link between particularly large gaps between branches or trees.

The nursery is on the ground, in a large tree trunk that is empty, save for the grasses and petals and leaves that make up the flooring/bedding of the nursery.

Not only can these cats climb up a tree, but unlike others… they can climb down it, too. The stereotype of cats stuck in trees are never applicable to these guys- where most cats would need to jump down, they don’t!

They have the highest kits-per-litter than any other clan because of how… lush their territory is, with both prey and water more easily accessible than any other clan.

Here it is, by far the most flower-y of the clans (mostly because the setting is Texas and u cant have Texas without blue bonnets)

______________________

Because Clan 4 is so close to a consistent source water, there are trails that lead to it so that the other three clans, in times of drought, can gather there unhindered. The gathering area is closest to Clan 4 because of the trails and water, too.

This is the gathering tree:

The little barn/house in the background is an example of the few homes that litter the overall area; they are in a relatively rural area, but they’re on the edge of urban society. The barn/house is abandoned, and the only ones who stay there are those unaffiliated with the clan; most often they are travelers.

______________________

Threats to the Clan cats:

Coyotes are one of the most dangerous obstacles for survival, but they come around during Leaf-bare, when other prey is scarce... but cats are plentiful. They’re semi-nomadic, intelligent, and hunt in packs.

Snakes are a pretty close second on this list, especially when it comes to kits. Snakes can go unnoticed if you aren’t paying attention, and it wouldn’t be a surprise to see one had managed to sneak into the nursery when everyone is distracted with something or other. It leads to cats always killing snakes when they see them.

Foxes? Fuck yeah, dude. They’ve got the intelligence of cats, and they’re sneaky little fuckers; they can get into almost any small space. Foxes, normally solitary, will try and fight a cat one on one, maybe even one against two, but they flee when numbers become too large, or they sustain too many injuries. Full-on attack isn’t their preferred method, though; they do ambushes, and traps.

Large herbivores can even be a danger, with stampedes, leading them to trample through a clans’ camp, or to trample an unsuspecting cat. Most of these consist of goats, sheep, cattle, deer, and horses.

______________________

Starclan: A huge forest teeming with life; it’s the greenest place to ever exist, practically. At least, to the Clan cats, it is. Has running rivers and streams.

Ref. Pictures:

This is the border between the Dark Forest and Starclan

The Dark Forest is the burnt out husk of a forest; there is soot heavy in the air, and the water is poisoned with ash. It’s sweltering, and it’s near impossible to breathe the further in you go; because of this, Dark Forest cats tend to stay as close to the Starclan/Dark Forest border as they can, but a consequence of doing so is risking themselves being burnt by the ever-living flames that protect Starclan, as well as smoke inhalation.

This is what the Dark Forest would look like:

The sky is always dark with soot and ash, and it glows with the unholy light of fire.

______________________

Prefixes and Suffixes that pop up because of where they are

(These include the Canon prefixes and suffixes, ofc)

Prefix-

Coyote- Cactus- Hare- Iguana- Gecko- Ram- Carrion- Cobra- Puma- Bear- Scorch- Vulture- Eagle- Brush- Scorpion- Dune-

-suffix

-drought -bear -whorl -flail -prance -stride

(NOTE: these are not the only ones that can be used, it’s just some prefixes and suffixes added onto the original canon list; might add more if I ever think of smth that could fit the theme)

#OKAY PHEW #posted this too early #my b #warrior cats #wc #wc au #warrior cats au #fanclan #oc #wc oc #warrior cats oc #wc fanclan #warrior cats fanclan #texas #because of course #spent way too long on this tbh #oh well

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fazbear-ent-official · 3 years

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Hello its my first day on the job and I heard something about a chore bowl? Could someone get me one while I'm sitting Shadow Bonnie in the corner?

no prob, i've picked a chore from the bowl for you : exorcise the backroom (yeah there's a lot of shit going on in this god forsaken room) ! you'll find holy water in the kitchen fridge, good luck !

#work with fazbear ent

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cosmicfurby · 2 years

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i'm going to rant a little because an important anniversary is approaching for me and i'm starting to sense the negative effects it may have on my psyche if i don't talk about it

a fair warning, though, about psychological abuse being mentioned. you absolutely do not have to read this if you're uncomfortable with these topics in any way and i'm only doing it as a journal of sorts to let the feels out. you can leave there's no prob

this month makes one year since i cut Her out of my life. to this day, i don't regret a single thing. it was the end of a five year long friendship and a two year long relationship, both of which were toxic, emotionally taxing, exhausting and devastating. she successfully isolated me from my family, from my friends, my classmates and the world. she wanted a tool to use, to manipulate, a little compliant puppet who would bow down to her will. someone who would be there at any time for her.

she found me at a very sensitive period in my life, one during which i had very little friends and was very susceptible to being brainwashed. and that is exactly what she did: we became friends very quickly, perhaps too quickly. i should've sensed her intentions coming, detected the red flags, however i was so happy someone actually wanted to be friends with me i didn't pay attention. and i'd pay the price for that. despite periods of not talking to each other and times when she clearly didn't care she made me umconfortable by overstepping my boundaries, i considered her my best friend. by the time i realized i had feelings for her, romantic feelings, she was one step ahead: she asked me out and tightened the shackles around my wrists. there was no escaping now.

her love was brutal and it was cruel. to this day, i suspect she envied me because i have what she never did: a loving family, a stable group of friends, a passion for something, and a heart. and it's sad, it's so very sad she grew up lonely with a mother that didn't love her as much as any child deserved. it is devastating. however that did not give her any right to treat me just like her mother treated her: with disdain, dismissal of my rawest emotions and coldness as freezing as ice itself. loving her was hating myself.

i came to think i deserved it. the screams, the insults, the periods of not talking to me. i didn't. of course i didn't. but i was so desperate, desperate to love and be loved and have someone. she had made me think i didn't have anyone but her, so i couldn't possibly lose her. i couldn't afford it. losing her would be being so alone in the world and so forsaken and so broken. i couldn't lose her. and so, i kept quiet and let her continue with her dictatorship over my entire life.

she mocked me for dressing in screaming and pastel colors. she would roll her eyes at my jokes. at time she acted as if i were a child, claiming my story ideas and my way of being and everything i did was childish. i started to make less jokes, dress in more muted tones. i stopped petting dogs i came across in the street. stopped smiling. if it was what it took to be with her, i told myself, it was worth it.

it wasn't.

she destroyed my creative process, as well. she made my writing entirely dependent on constant feedback, so much so now i can't write without some reading what i'm doing at any moment. that's not healthy. it took over a year for me to write again, and even then, i still struggle with the crippling insecurity she left on my talent and abilities as a writer. she knew what she was doing. she knew every time i stared at a blank page, with a head full of ideas and eyes full of tears, i'd remember her. her and how much she hurt me.

she hated my happiness. hated that i was happy. if i tried to share with her the progress i'd made, from an anxiety-ridden girl who was scared of talking to her own friends to a functional member of society, she'd snap. lie to me. invent these extravagant scenarios where her mother had tried to hit her or where she was oh, so sad. of course, any hint of relief or joy i could've felt disappeared, because how could i be happy when she wasn't? misery loves company, and she certainly loved mine. worrying me and making my entire life and happiness dependent on her was part of her calculated strategy to make me need her for living.

she once dragged me to a hellish holiday with her mother to the seaside. a holiday so traumatic i still have trouble talking about: the anxiety her fights with her mother caused me, crying alone in my bedroom, being yelled at for the smallest mistake and eventually being abandoned in the middle of a town i'd never been to. i felt alone, devastated, so, so very cold. she made me want to die. when i finally got home and broke down in front of my mother is when i knew i had to make it stop.

the breaking point? college. once i got to college, to a new environment where i made friends easily and became comfortable enough to realize i wasn't the problem. i'd never been. the day i broke up with her, she took it surprisingly well. i agreed to, at the very least, remain in friendly terms with her, if only for our shared origin account. it eventually became impossible to do so, given how badly she started treating me. the day i met with her to officially break up and tell her i didn't want her in my life anymore, she stormed out on me, leaving me alone on a rainy evening. i got home drenched in rain and sweat, sat down in my desk chair, looked at my unsuspecting brother and broke down in tears. i was free.

after that, i blocked her on all social media. if she attempted to contact me again, i wouldn't know. i created my own origin account. started talking to my parents again. hung out with my friends more. i started to live, truly live, and saw that it was amazing. i became consistently happy for the first time in my life. there were a few incidents shortly after the breakup, of course, such as her screaming at me and some friends across the street. but it stopped. it stopped, and she stopped, and my recovery started. it's still going on to this day.

i know i wasn't a good girlfriend, or at least not the one she needed. i'm not the hero of any story, and now i know she isn't the villain either. we are both survivors of a very toxic, very dangerous relationship that, as i see it, none of us would've survived. there are no villains or bad guys in the stories: there is two people who failed at having a relationship and broke each other's hearts. it's now been a year since the fateful day when i called her out on all the bullshit, the pain, the isolation she'd put me through. it's been a year since i'm free. i know her self-centeredness and her coldness will have prevented her from feeling the aftershocks, but i'm starting to let go of them. i am alive. i am alive, and i am loved, and i love, and i am happy.

and she can't take it away from me.

#cw trauma #cw abuse #tw abuse #tw trauma

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bumbleberrysky · 4 years

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alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 01

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.2k rating: sfw warnings: none except the appearance of battered gabriel fresh out of asmodeus’ hold notes: welcome to my first dive into writing for supernatural! i saw someone say that s13 lit a fire under their ass like nothing else and honestly i don’t think i could have described it better. i binged so much while catching up the past few weeks idk who i am anymore

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It's something you're destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you'd thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you're suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you'd been brought here in the first place? Maybe...

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

next.

“Honeys, I’m home!”

The bunker has the same light aroma of musty air and metal as you let yourself in through the heavy front door, feet carrying you, out of habit more than anything, to the steel landing that marks the entrance to the fortress. It’s been so long since you were last here that the two men you used to hunt with regularly have likely forgotten they gave you a spare key. Well, they hadn’t exactly given it to you so much as you’d made a copy on the down-low and kept it for occasions such as this.

One hand keeps pressure on your arm, an attempt to stem the bleeding, and the other carries your single carry-on bag. You make it about halfway down the stairs before your gaze swings out over the foyer and you freeze, mid-step.

Sam and Dean, the two figures you expected to find here, are standing stock-still with their guns half-poised (not directed at you) and expressions on their faces that are a combination of shocked, pissed, and extremely confused (mostly directed at you). Following the line of their weapons leads you to the other two occupants in the room, most definitely unexpected and completely unfamiliar.

One is in rags, cowering, and whimpering, unrecognisable underneath filthy tangled hair that covers his face, and the other is in a prim suit marred only by blood and a bit of dirt, barely a single strand of dark hair atop his head out of place.

“Twinkletoes? What the hell are you doing here?!”

It’s Dean’s stupid, old nickname for you that breaks you out of your shock, a glare already falling onto your face with the practised ease of muscle memory.

“I’ll answer that when you tell me what the hell I just walked in on—” You come the rest of the way down the stairs, slower and more cautious now, with your gaze trained on the two at the other end of the table. It’s when the man in rags finally looks up from where he had been cowering and you catch a glimpse of his face, bloody and bruised but instantly familiar, that your words swell and catch in your throat.

“… Gabriel?”

The brothers in front of you heave a great, unanimous sigh, a look passed between them telling you that you’re about to be on the receiving end of a very ludicrous and typical Winchester story.

x x x

The first time you met Gabriel was not long after you’d gone through the biggest plot twist of your entire life. You’d gone to sleep in your bed, in your home, and woken up in a completely different part of the world, like some magician had snapped their fingers and you’d been the punchline of their very next trick. Much to your regret and distaste, some minor investigation revealed that where you’d woken up in the backseat of a car on the side of the road was in some state in the US. You’d sworn to yourself that you would never step foot here in your entire life and then, like God or whoever reigned above was laughing straight in your face, you’d just up and woken up in some random car in a place that made you long to be literally anywhere else.

Preferably somewhere where the occupants didn’t have such easy access to guns.

…like the two men who screamed and pointed theirs at you when you popped up from their backseat after they climbed into the cabin, fast food in their arms.

That was the first time you’d met the infamous hunting brothers, the Winchesters, and the first time of many you’d nearly died in their company.

It had taken a while for them to trust you, but after you inviting yourself onto a few of their cases and saving their asses a handful of times (ignoring the amount of times they saved yours because you forgot that almost every American slept with a gun beneath their pillow) they’d eventually taken you under their proverbial wing. It helped that you had literally nowhere else to go and nothing but the clothes on your back and a bare handful of belongings to your name. Once they figured out you weren’t hiding anything up your sleeve and that you’re just naturally annoying and a little dumb, they’d happily invited you to become an official-unofficial part of their little hunting gang. This means you’re also familiar with the hilarious angel they have in their back pocket. Castiel is a riot and one of the things you miss most when you go off to hunt on your own.

Having been around during the whole ordeal of Lucifer and Michael going through the motions of continuing their family spat on an apocalyptic scale, you too grew to be familiar with their youngest brother, the archangel Gabriel. Of course, while you’d been there for a fair amount of the angel-turned-trickster’s shenanigans, you weren’t there for the final appearance he made at a hotel in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In complete juxtaposition to the fact that you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d interacted properly with Gabriel, the sensations you experienced at the news of his sacrifice, his death, were unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You like to consider yourself much more emotionally healthy and with an emotional range far larger than that of a teaspoon and the Winchesters’, but that… that news was something that it had taken you months to recover from fully.

And even then, apparently your recovery wasn’t as complete as you’d thought, because hearing what the boys have told you now has made your eyes burn and your stomach turn into a nest of manic bees, your insides lined with flowers and pollen. You think, for a moment, that you just might be sick.

You’re sitting in the library, Gabriel having been taken to a room of his own by one Winchester while the other fills you in before they’re both reunited before you, and you’re in the kind of mood where you sort of want to just sit there and dissociate for a few hours, truthfully. You can tell you’re not going to get that opportunity though, so in the wake of the bombshell they’d just dropped on you about all you’d missed in the past few months—that they had apparently forgotten to tell you over the phone when you checked in occasionally— you do the next best thing you can think of for the moment.

Put it on the backburner, baby.

You massage your temple with your fingers as you lean your head into your hand, a sigh escaping through your nose. “See, this is why it feels like I have been brought on as a babysitter—I leave for a few months and you old men manage to dig up another almost-apocalypse and find and raise Lucifer’s kid?”

“Alright, first of all,” Dean whips out a finger to point at you, filling you with glee. You’ve barely been back a few hours and already you’re stepping back into your favourite “stir-the absolute-shit-out-of-Dean” pants. As always, he is almost pitifully quick to rise to the bait. “Old? Who are you calling old? Alright so maybe we have a few years on you but that’s just because you’re a toddler and w—”

“Dean,” Sam places a placating hand on his brother’s shoulder, a look that seems to be a mixture of amusement and exasperation crossing his features. “You’re making it too easy for her.”

The older Winchester pauses, turning to pin you with an accusing look. You smile, not even attempting to appear innocent. After staring at you for several long moments, Dean makes the ‘eyes-on-you’ gesture with his fingers before turning away, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he takes a seat across from you.

“You were gone for almost a year this time, did you have any luck, well, leaving?” Sam brings your attention back to him, the question dragging out a sigh that feels like it’s been dredged from the very depths of your being.

“No,” you answer, sounding somewhat petulant even to your own ears. “Why is it so hard to leave this god-forsaken country! I hate it here. I’m sick of trying to make a run for it and being zapped back into a swamp, or—or a pool at the top of a penthouse suite in the middle of some random city! It sucks balls.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean waves his hand, enjoying the dirty look you give him. “So you still haven’t found whatever purpose you’re meant to fulfil while here?”

You huff, shaking your head. “No. It’s been years and I still have no idea why I woke up here that day. Or why I can’t leave.”

Over the time you’ve spent with the Winchesters, a few things became apparent to the three of you about your stay here. One, it was indefinite. You’d discovered quickly that you are, quite literally, unable to leave. Every time you get close to escaping this country you black out and wake up back inside. Sometimes in a helpful place, sometimes…. Not.

Two, the three of you had thrown around and entertained the idea that maybe you’d been brought here for a reason, that like them maybe you’d been divinely allocated a role to play. But you’ve been through a lot with the Winchesters, whether in person or by association, and still…

You’re no closer to being able to leave and return from whence you came.

You have no idea why you’re here!

This is something that has really contributed to your temporary career as a hunter here. That isn’t to say that this profession isn’t something you were involved in before you came here, but you’ve really… you really dove into it, whether as a distraction or as an ongoing investigation as to what on earth was going to set you free of your tie to this place. A part of you thinks that each case you take on, each person or family you save and creature you slay might be the one reason that brought you here, and the one task that with its completion will grant you freedom. You’ve never been a fan of being caged; just because this one spans a grand total of 9.834 million square kilometres doesn’t make it any less of one.

This most recent expedition that led you to part from the Winchesters for such a long time was another of your failed attempts to leave. You think you’ve tried escaping at every possible point along the coastline and border by now, with a definite lack of success.

“Well, if it really is some divine intervention keeping you here, then it’s better if you just sit back and settle down, twinkletoes.” Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back in his chair with an accompanying creak from the wood. “Those divine types have proven to be… kind of assholes.”

You frown, but he isn’t saying anything you haven’t already thought. It’s part of why you’d settled so easily into hunting here, actually. ‘When in Rome…’, as they say. You’re familiar with the hunting grind and there is comfort in familiarity.

“Are you going to stay a while?” Sam asks, opening the first-aid box he’d first brought over when you’d settled down. Ah, right—you’d almost forgotten about the injury on your arm, despite the fact that you are still pressing a palm to it. You listen as he speaks, almost swearing you can detect a hint of hopefulness in his voice. “You still have a room here for you, of course. We haven’t touched anything inside.”

“Yeah, mostly because we didn’t wanna deal with the mess and the booby-trapped doors—” Dean’s under-the-breath mutter is cut off by your coo, a wide smile pulling your lips.

“Oh, you two missed me, didn’t you?” Instantly, you are successful in ruffling Dean’s feathers— Sam might take a bit more work, though. “I know I really light this dark, dingy place up but I didn’t know it was that bad without me! Ah, perhaps I will stay a while. You know, out of charity.”

“Sammy,” Dean says, beseeching. “It’s not too late—you hold her back and I’ll find her key. It’s not too cold, she’ll be alright outside.”

An appalled and affronted look slips onto your face and Sam has to clear his throat so that he doesn’t laugh and add to his brother’s torment.

“I’m not a misbehaving puppy,” you say, holding your arm out for Sam as he comes over and finally freeing your bloody hand. “Wait, unless you want me to be. Been broadening your horizons beyond animated tentacle porn have you, Deanie-bo-beenie?”

On cue, Dean’s face flushes light red, whether from anger or a brief spritz of embarrassment, only God knows. You can see Sam’s face grow tense from the effort of holding back noise in your peripheral as he tends to your arm.

“You know what? I’m better than this. I’m gonna let it go.” Dean rises from his chair, making a show of dusting off your metaphorical drama. His light eyes flick to you, squinting. “I’m tired; I have a date with my memory foam pillow and nice, warm, feather duvet and a good night’s rest, so goodnight. I hope your bed has bed bugs, twinkletoes, and I hope they bite.”

“I hope you sleep well too, Dean!” you call after him, deciding you’ll have to give him a break from the bullying tomorrow or else he’ll explode before you can have much fun. “Do you want me to come tuck you in?”

“No! Goodnight!”

His yell and disappearance down the hall is followed a few moments later by the familiar sound of a door slamming shut,

“That’s not very fair of you,” Sam announces, sounding strained and very much like he’s trying not to laugh lest Dean has an ear pressed to his door. “He’s too tired to fight back right now.”

“I know,” you answer, wincing as he wipes down the laceration on your bicep and cleans the blood away with an alcohol wipe. It burns, but it’s definitely not the most painful thing you have ever experienced. “I hadn’t seen you guys in so long, though. I couldn’t help myself.”

Sam simply snorts, reaching for the needle and thread to being stitching the skin back together, and you breathe harshly through your nose as you reach for another topic to distract yourself.

“Are the two—sorry, the three of you actually dads now? To… to Lucifer’s half-angel kid? I thought angels getting frisky with humans was, uh… illegal up in heaven.”

You feel rather than see Sam roll his eyes, your own pointedly directed away from your arm where he has begun to get to work. “It’s Lucifer, y/n, I don’t think he cares about what’s illegal up in heaven.”

You purse your lips—he makes a fair point. Honestly, you feel a little silly for questioning it. “Right, and he’s… trapped in some other dimension? An alternate world where the apocalypse really happened.”

“Yep,” Sam says, hitting a particularly painful spot with his needle. You hiss, giving him a glare.

“I wasn’t even gone a year! Just hearing all this shit is stressing me out so much, dude.” You sigh, attempting to adjust your position in the wooden chair without jostling your arm too much. Thankfully, practice has made Sam quick at his job and already he is almost done piecing you back together. He finishes up with a knot, snipping the thread and then placing a large bandage carefully over the wound. He dusts his hands once done, standing from where he was leaning against the table and proceeding to loom over you like a T-Rex.

“You’re blocking my light, bro,” you inform him, narrowly avoiding a subsequent good-natured smack to your good arm. “Damn, what the hell! Didn’t you take an oath or some shit? I’m your patient!”

“I was studying law, not medicine,” Sam retorts dryly. He turns to leave and put the first aid supplies away, his back facing you but not before you see how his lips twitch. “So your annoying ass is free game.”

“Maybe so,” you acquiesce, rising from your seat with a light grunt as you jostle your arm. You consider asking Sam where Castiel is, to see if you can get a hit of the good stuff and skip the healing process, but think better of it. You always feel a bit bad asking him to heal you, though you barely ever have to since he’s like a rabid mother hen the second he sees blood on any of you. “God, I’m beat. I didn’t think I could get any more tired than I was before, but as always catching up with you two has aged me a few years and now I’m just about as tired as you two are all the time.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the ‘old man’ bait you dangle in front of him—never really does, if you’re being honest; that’s mostly Dean’s vice— but he does offer you a smile that is unexpectedly sincere and fond.

“Go to bed, toddler,” he retorts, before continuing in a softer tone, “… It’s good to see you again, y/n. I’m glad you’re here. Dean and Mom are going out on a hunt in the next few days and I think you can really help with, uh… the whole Gabriel thing.”

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You’d sort of been trying to avoid thinking about the elephant in your mind, for the very same reason that makes your eyes burn once more. It hurts, a lot, thinking and imagining what he must have gone through at the hands of Asmodeus. It feels like your heart is going to tear itself to pieces in your chest from the sheer extent of your empathy and how terrible you feel for him. The Gabriel you saw cowering before you earlier is nothing like the confident feathery asshole you used to know.

Even having only seen him once, it’s enough to make you fearful of the possibility that… he might be too far gone to ever return to that last echo of his previous self.

“I’m not sure what I’ll even be able to do to help,” you respond, approaching the doorway to the hall with your bag in tow. You pause to finish what you’re saying, meeting Sam’s puppy-like gaze from across the room. “But I’ll try. It hurts to see him like that, so… I’ll stay a while, to do whatever I can.”

Sam’s answering thankful smile and nod is all you can ask for in response as you turn and head further into the bunker, dragging your bags back to the room you’d come to call your own over the years. Your gaze strays on the way to one of the doors that has a little note taped on saying, ‘please do not open suddenly or loudly’, undoubtedly the room that they have allocated to Gabriel for the time being. Heart heavy in your chest, you continue on down the hall and tear your gaze away.

You’re not sure how much you can do for him, but you hope you can do something.

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isuzukuretsuki · 4 years

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I FINISHED CHURCH ROUTE, SO I’M OFFICIALLY DONE ALL 4 ROUTES IN FE3H *CHUCKS SWITCH OUT WINDOW*. Clocked 388+ hours in this god forsaken game!!!!!! Overall it was a really fun game and probably my favorite Fire Emblem game thus far.

TLDR:

Playthrough order: CF > AM > VW > SS

Favourite route: AM > VW > SS > CF

Favourite house: BL > GD > AW > BE

Favourite house leader: Dimitri > Yuri > Edelgard > Claude

Favourite characters in general: Dimitri, Felix, Marianne, Ingrid, Sylvain, Ashe, Dorothea, Yuri, Lysithea

Anyway!!! More thoughts below the cut.

+ Out of the fire emblem games I’ve played, this game probably has the most in depth, immersive, and well thought out story and world building. Writing in general is probably this game’s strongest point.

+ Out of the fire emblem games I’ve played, this game probably has the most fleshed out and memorable cast of characters. The lords were all really interesting too. I really love all my children.

+ I really enjoyed the game play and I liked being able to train and raise your students to go into different classes. Clean and easy to understand while giving you the freedom to play around... though I didn’t since I’m a basic bitch with zero creativity.

+ Combat was pretty solid, and while I have grievances with the recycled maps, I enjoyed most of the map designs. I really liked the whole mechanic of having monsters and battalions.

+ Battle music is A+++. Chasing Daybreak is prob my all time favourite FE battle theme.

+ I wrote a whole ass post gushing about how much I loved Azure Moon but I want to point out that that route in particular really nails the desperation and direness of the war torn atmosphere immediately after post time skip, and slowly turning the war around one step at a time and saving your devastated country could not have been more rewarding and gratifying.

+/- I like the concept of three different paths/stories with each giving you a piece of the whole narrative, and most of the routes do bring something unique to the table (well… except for SS/VW being carbon copies of each other), but the academy phase/monastery activities are an absolute chore and it becomes a massive slog on the nth playthrough. I know you can skip it but with my completionist ass? Never.

+/- This game could have been literally just Blue Lions and I would have been 100% satisfied with it because most of the fun and joy I derived from this game was from that route. I was honestly extremely lukewarm on all the other routes, and I literally do not give a rat’s ass about the lore in this game. I think the story could have completely done without the slithers plot line. There really isn’t any reward or gratification in beating them, they’re just… there.

- Crimson Flower’s writing sucked donkey dicks but it wins points for being the most unique route. AM/VW/SS were way too similar in terms of maps and story formula. VW/SS were essentially the exact same. While I know having four completely standalone routes with different maps and story beats may be too big a scope, at the same time… you have four whole ass routes to flesh out your story, use it.

- The presentation of this game is pretty bad. Like a full five steps down from Echoes, which is a shame. The 3d model animations were extremely awkward and I wish they just went with sprites but alas. Also the UI sucks monkey ass, it took me a million years to locate everything at first.

- The difficulty is whack. Hard mode is piss fucking easy with a couple of challenging maps sprinkled in, maddening is piss fucking difficult and it was hard for me to find a good difficulty level for me.

Anyway this game was lit lmao I spent 10 months playing this game and now I have a FE3H shaped hole left in my heart after finishing all four routes. It definitely feels nice to finally put this game to rest though.

#fire emblem three houses #ellie plays #ellie plays fe3h terribly

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ririnpoga · 3 years

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Rules: list the 1st 10 lines of your last 10 stories, see if there are any patterns, and pick a fave.

1. Kay stared at the blinding, glowing lights of the night. Each one of them illuminated her own path to glory and happiness, gloved hands slowly arranging her scarf over her mouth as she gave a faint, weak smile under it, cold wind blowing across warm skin. Even if it felt weird at the beginning, Kay has kind of got used to doing her job alone, but... 2. ‘’Hey, birdboy!’’ A grin was clearly visible on the blonde’s face the first time they met already, along the disgusting smell of blood and the uneasy darkness of the alley. Still, her own looks and voice were able to break through all of that, and he recalled her words at that exact moment perfectly ‘’don’t you ever get tired of being nice? Sometimes, don’t you just wanna go apeshit?’’ 3. Dream held a smirk on his face as he walked down the school corridor, other sexymen’s staring at him with envy, disgust, fully aware they were all now left in the past. He was now on the top of the sexymen food chain, having surpassed the legends of Bill, Sans and Onceler on just a few months. (I HATE THIS ONE TOO OK) 4. The sun rays welcomed the three of them to another day, Padpa grumbling something that, honestly? Didn’t matter for any of them as Rutile sighed, slowly trying to roll off the mess that Padpa’s hair was. Another day, another time having to somehow awake the two idiots that for some god forsaken reason they had to fell in love with. 5. Dabi quickly spiked up to the screams of two of his recently adopted children, eyes widening as Hawks snored. If it was of any help to him, he could clearly tell it wasn’t Toga because he recognized her screams from years on the league, but it also brought panic knowing it wasn’t her at all. 6. ‘’Wow, we’re finally here, huh? Dashcon?’’ 7. Keigo grunted as his eyes slowly stared at the clock, hands trembling with the fact he had passed another day fully awake and without sleep while trying to achieve his old goal. At this point he was fairly sure he could go to jail just based on all the sleepless pills he had taken, but considering the fact he was trying to bring back a dead person to life, he doesn’t think taking sleepless pills would be his worst crime. 8. ‘’What the fuck do you mean Miku isn’t at school today?!’’ 9. ‘’You really are an idiot for falling in love with some weird guy called Phoenix, huh?’’ Miles could only nod at his sister, fully aware he was, in her words, a foolish fool. 10. ‘’Why is your fursuit in my room.’’ I don’t have a pattern. At A L L ;D send help I think if I could point out something is uh... Ig most of my crack stuff starts with only a SINGLE dialogue line and nothing else? But then I know I have crack stuff that breaks this rule so uh h hhh h I also like lights apparently ngl. I’d maybe say that I enjoy using ambience to settle the tone of a story but idk??????????? help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! we dont talk about the tumblr sexymen fanfic My favourite rn is 100% the first one because I’m biased on ship hyperfixation and also because I like the mix of what could be calm ambience with somewhat melancholic thoughts heehee hahaa hlep also listen the moment i write a *but* somewhere u can be sure that the character is not doing well theyre prob dying inside ok send help to them too I’m tagging @peachygos because again only person i talk to here :))))))))))))) Thank you @soysaucemachine for tagging me!!!!!!!!!!

#my stuff help

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the-yellowturtle · 4 years

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The Last of Her Name (Pt.1)

@levitatingbiscuits here’s the bit i have written so far~

The Katara’s Maternal Grandparents are Free Real Estate ! AU

This is still technically a rough draft, so i’ll prob change parts of it in the future.

Spring 55 AG

It is only after the victims of the Fire Nation ambush have been properly laid to rest, after the injured have had their burns soothed, after the waterbenders have repaired the damage done to the walls, after hawks have been sent to all of the neighboring clans, after countless hours of debate about what their next move as the tribe should be, after decades worth of pain that occurs in the span of a week, it is after all of this that the Tribal Elders bring to the foreground that the current Sea Wolf of the Southern Water Tribe had most likely failed.

The highest honor that could be bestowed upon a member of the Southern Water Tribe, the Sea Wolf could be of any gender, sexuality, age or bending status. As long as the people of the South believed an individual was the most qualified to complete a crucial task, they could be granted the honor of becoming the Sea Wolf. After being elected, the Sea Wolf was adorned in clothes provided by every clan, bathed under Tui’s light, presented with the Wolf’s Fang, and asked for the Spirit’s to grant them favor. If the Sea Wolf was unable to complete their task and failed to return the sacred blade to the tribe, then they were said to be forsaken by the spirits. To be forsaken was the death sentence of one’s memory; to become one of the Forgotten. From then on, no one could share their name, no one could retain possessions made by their hand, and no one could tell stories of their feats during the long winter months nor any month. A failed Sea Wolf would cease to exist.

The current Sea Wolf had set sail in Winter in hopes of reuniting with the estranged North after hearing rumors among Earth Kingdom traders that the next Fire Lord was likely to cease the policy of global expansion. The North’s offer of a Peace Summit had made the people of the Southern Water Tribe optimistic. That had been in Winter.

It was late Spring now.

There was no word from the North. No word from the Sea Wolf.

Instead, multiple villages of the Southern Water Tribe had been ambushed in the early morning by elite Fire Nation forces. Hundreds had been murdered in their own homes, and hundreds more burned while pushing the invading forces back.

Grandmaster of the Southern Water Tribe, Daughter of the PenguinOtter Clan, and Current Sea Wolf, Ka’ena; had been tasked with securing peace.

She had failed.

The Elders of the South did not need to see a corpse to know this. The only thing that could have stopped Grandmaster Ka’ena from returning to the South, from returning to her young daughter was death.

Thus it was only one week after the start of what would become known as The Southern Raids in the Fire Nation and Genocide in the South, that Ka’ena of the Southern Water Tribe was spiritually banished.

Her home was deconstructed and all of her worldly possessions gathered to be returned to the ocean. Friends and family solemnly added the trinkets and jewelry made by her hand to the growing pile of what represented her previously admired life.

Beads for a friend with a consistent hairstyle.

A bracelet carved for a student successfully achieving the rank of Master.

Embroidered armbands for a brother that enjoyed dressing up.

A TigerSeal plushie for a young daughter that needed to hold something and be held to fall asleep.

Kya’s uncle had to restrain the sobbing four year old as she listened to her grandfather banish her own mother before the tribe. How could a child possibly understand the intricacies of being disfavored by the spirits? How could a child possibly understand that her mom failing to return home almost certainly meant her death? How could a child possibly understand that she was never allowed to speak of her mom ever again? How could a child possibly understand the horrors of the past week?

“Mom’s gonna come home! She promised!” was what the girl had started to wail with the certainty only a child could possess before being dragged away from the ceremony in her uncle’s arms.

A moment of silence followed before the Chief of the PenguinOtter Clan as well as the other Chiefs of the South simultaneously declared, “From this day on, Ka’ena of the Southern Water Tribe shall be the last of her name.”

And then Ka’ena was one of the Forgotten.

It would be decades before such a name was spoken aloud once again.

#mine #will prob delete this when i finish the whole thing

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