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devildomwriter · 1 year

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Nightbringer Story Delivered

Major spoilers (I don’t go into depth but still watch out in case)

- We get to see the founding of RAD and why Diavolo wants to found it

- We get to see a lot of Devildom politics

- There are lots conservative demons and mentions of nobles and aristocrats and riffraff

- We get to see that the brothers didn’t necessarily fall to the Devildom but that it was the only place to go and taking them in nearly shattered the unstable peace between the realms

- Lots of examples of hatred and grudges on both sides of the angels and demons spectrum

- The brothers facing lots of prejudice and being offended by the term “fallen angels”

- We get a Cerberus backstory because of Mammon

- Lots of good big brother Mammon trying to elevate his brothers position in the Devildom to fight against their prejudice

- The brothers were held inside the castle for a full year after the war

- We see more about Diavolo having a messed up and strict childhood and just needing a break from work

- We learn more about Diavolo’s father and his very sudden deep sleep

- We see how much Diavolo struggles to navigate the present to fix the future and avoid getting stuck in the past

- We see how Lucifer and Diavolo’s dynamic changed when Lucifer became a demon and the tension it caused

- We see Henry 1.0 backstory and an explanation for his changing in size

- We get to see the hours long castle tour mentioned in the OG game that the brothers dreaded and Diavolo forced them into

- We get to see Diavolo being a bit more blunt and controlling in his youth

- We get a Lotan origin story (even though it retcons two other origin stories mentioned in the OG)

- We get to see more about the relationship everyone had with Raphael, Michael, and Simeon

- The angels being considered brothers and sisters is explained more

- We finally see why Simeon isn’t a seraph anymore and why Lucifer blames himself

- We see Simeon’s issues discussed more in depth

- We see some TSL origin story

- We meet the TSL characters and they’re intense

- We see the brothers truly becoming demons and having less and less impulse control and fitting their titles more and more, something they find strange

- Goldie’s origins explained

- The credit card in the freezer origin explained

- Lucifer still being prejudiced against demons

- Lucifer being a good big brother to his siblings and being worried they felt forced to follow him

- Lucifer trying to raise his anger child

- We see why Mammon is scared of ghosts when originally he didn’t give a crap

- We get more insight on Mammon and Lucifer’s relationship

- We get an origin story for Mammon’s gambling issues (It’s Solomon’s fault)

- Levi’s love of cosplay origin story

- Levi’s fear and self hatred and other issues explained

- Origin story of Levi’s love for Ruri-Hana

- We get to see how Levi got his powers

- Satan literally only having one emotion due to being born from one emotion

- Satan feeling out of place because the demon king told the brothers to take him in

- Satan’s love of cats origin story

- Feral Satan is literally the best thing ever

- We get to see why Asmodeus decorated the room the way he did

- Asmodeus’s issues are discussed in depth including ones we didn’t really know were there

- The surprising origin of Asmo nights

- Asmo trying to be so strong and upbeat because someone has to

- We see a deeper explanation on the original pact made between Solomon and Asmodeus

- We see how Asmodeus feels about Solomon

- We see Asmodeus was pretty interested in Barbatos even before the two shared Solomon

- We get to see how Asmodeus got his new powers

- Beelzebub suddenly developing his intense hunger that he can’t explain and can’t control

- Belphie’s issues discussed in depth

- Belphie having slight suicidal ideations

- Belphie needing someone to blame for Lilith’s death but not being able to figure out who (in our original timeline he’d obviously decided to blame humans)

- More about Lilith being a prankster and too blunt and her first meeting with Michael

- The brothers kind of blaming each other and trying not to blame each other

- The relationships progress with MC well and not just one person at a time

- More Solomon and MC and their sorcerer and apprentice dynamic

- Barbatos absolutely fucking hating Solomon and Solomon not remembering how he pissed off Barbatos at the time

- Solomon being dominant with Barbatos

- Barbatos being over all very mysterious and a bit more aggressive than the present Barbatos

- We get a solid reason for why MC can’t just return to their present timeline

- We see more of Diavolo’s powers

- The present timeline is mentioned including the brothers being anxious to get MC back

- A ghost who goes by Adam (probably not THE Adam but who knows)

- Nightbringer is mentioned a lot and heavily hinted to be Barbatos (pretty obvious)

- The interesting way MC being in the past impacts the others (they’re all very attached and comfortable in MC‘s room)

- We see where Solomon always strays in the Devildom and his relationship with Diavolo

- Solomon’s reputation in the Devildom and him forgetting most of it

- Someone is creating mass illusions and realities to trick the brothers and make them choose sides (angels or demons)

- Solomon getting really mad at Barbatos for teleporting him into a dragon nest

- Solomon offering pacts like a salesman and still trying to get one with Lucifer

- Solomon wanting a pact with Leviathan and asking Lucifer for permission

- Solomon being jealous he didn’t tame Cerberus

- We see more of Diavolo’s love and obsession with angel Lucifer and how it’s since changed

- Overall a lot of stuff happening in the story and that’s just the main story and not Devilgram which reveals even more

If you want me to go more In depth on any of these things just send me an ask

#obey me nightbringer

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play-now-my-lord · 1 year

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let me clear out the riffraff a bit: I'm an anarcho-communist, emphasis on the communist. I'm not especially a transfeminist but I think blowing off trans women who talk about transmisogyny is busted. Misandry sucks ass but more because it makes racist assumptions about what men are and experience than because it hurts white guys' feelings. If you seem like the sort of person who would do a land acknowledgement at a corporate event without understanding a word of the local ndn language I actually think you're worse than useless. Formal politics, including every election, is a parlor game for rich bastards with mortgages and reading about it will bring you only misery unless you're one of those. If you spread callouts or gossip about anyone who can't afford to sue you, you're more of a problem for the community than the person you're after could possibly be. Labels are just words and fighting people over whether they're allowed to use some word or another is goof troop shit. You're all working for the CIA by posting here and I love every single one of you

#frog thoughts

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beanieman · 11 months

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what do you think of shin using internet terms in like main games. like he hits sara with a 'L+ratio+the riffraff' or something,,

I'm shocked that he hasn't already.

He seems like the type who thinks that using an internet term is a killer blow as well. Like he says "L+Ratio" and then stand there with his arms crossed and a really smug smirk because he thinks that was devastating.

#yttd #your turn to die #asks #shin tsukimi #nishibal

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noowayybroo · 1 year

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Bite Shift (Part 2) (Thanks for all the love so far! )

Characters: GN!Vampire!Reader, Corrupt Cop!Leon Kennedy

Warnings: NSFW CUZ KISSING N TOUCHIN N STUFF, Blood, Mentions of Assault + Violence, GN!Vampire!Reader, Corrupt Cop!Leon Kennedy. Mentions of / attempted non-con, biting n vampires n stuff (NSFW for violence's sake), Reader is AGAIN GN for purpose of inclusivity! None of the reader's age, job title, gender or appearances described also. Brief seduction, Copy n pasted warnings etc (am lazy monke)

Not a fun, lighthearted fic, gonna get a bit violent. Leon is entirely inspired by @lipglossanon's Corrupt Cop Leon character and Character.ai Bot!

I'm keeping this short as hell cuz I don't love the idea and I don't know what to do or how to take it seriously... Sorry!

Just further warning. In this part Leon gets pretty bitten up and he bleeds a lot and it's described in quite some detail. He ultimately ends up submitting n letting the reader drink from him. This bit is pretty graphic. More notes at the end.

"My stop's... just... there...", you say, timid yet firm as you point at a house about 4 buildings down.

Silence came the reply.

Odd.

You make eye contact with Leon in his rear-view mirror, only to find his eyebrows slightly raised as he watches the road, continuing to drive. He seems to have heard you, but makes no move to reply to or acknowledge your statement. In fact, he avoids eye contact with you as he does all but slow his vehicle. It's as if he feels almost guilty or unsure of his actions, you think, and in a split-second, you're able to realise that this man does not intend to drop you off home, safe and sound.

Offering a generous benefit of the doubt to the man, you continue to point as your house as it gets nearer, nearer, even nearer and then eventually, it's behind you.

Leon's expression is entirely stoic and hardened as you snap your head back to look at him in angsty disbelief. He picks up on the attitude in your actions and movements, and begins to wonder to himself what his next plans were as he continues to dodge eye contact with you. His eyes dart away almost nervously each time they meet yours in any of his mirrors.

Something you loved about the area in which you lived was how quiet it was, but something you loved even more was the small forest near your house. As a skulking creature of the night (and sometimes day), you often enjoyed spending time amongst the shade of the trees, basking in the cool shadow and observing the wildlife. It was also a good place to prey on humans who were up to less than good, grabbing a light snack here and there.

Of course, as a vampire, it was stereotypical that you'd drain people entirely of their blood, leaving nothing but a lifeless corpse, or that you'd bestow upon them the curse of eternal life, but you didn't have the heart nor care for all of that. Why make more of me? You think sometimes, All they'll do is compete with me for my meals. Also, killing your prey would not only draw attention to yourself somehow, but it'd also decrease your pool of prey to choose from, so so far, you hadn't actually killed.

This dilemma swirls within your mind a little as you notice Leon continue forward on the same road you lived on. You hadn't killed, but that didn't mean you didn't want to. He could be going home, you ponder, he did say his house was along here somewhere, but he could also be going... to the forest. That was a dark thought, even for you. You'd seen your fair share of horrible people dwelling in that forest, especially at night. It was like a crime city once the moon hung in the sky. A tasty crime city, little did Officer Kennedy know.

That's right, despite being as inhuman as you were, you still had a moral compass (albeit rusty.) The riffraff were your favourite meal. You could convince yourself you were doing some great deed and service to your local area, teaching them a lesson or two about karma. A game you often liked to play was, whilst attacking them, reminding them of all the bad deeds you'd witnessed them partaking in. In some ways, you saved their lives, because they fixed up quickly.

You can only wonder what you'll have to teach Leon a lesson for now as he does as expected and quickly turns off towards the forest. The car trembles a little as it meets the dusty rubble path, leading deep into the mass of trees and shrubs in your wake. A strange heat wells up within you. You know you're not shy or worried, but you can't seem to place a finger on whether you're hungry or whether the car's heaters are just a little too efficient.

Your surroundings grow darker and darker as you leave the generous street-lights on the road behind and venture deeper into the woods. Many of the trees are so densely grown that not even the moonlight dares shine on the path before you. A few minutes later, your cage-on-wheels comes to an abrupt halt on a grassy bank by the side of the path, which is so rarely used it's hard to identify. You can't help but foreshadow that the car is more of a prison to Leon than it is for you, but your mind is silenced as you hear a faint shuffling followed by a quaint click sound.

You did not expect to turn to see a handcuff fastened rather tightly around your right wrist, and the shock you were in allowed Leon to reach over and grab your other wrist, but you were able to pull away before he could secure you. The jig was up; now he would speak to you.

"I want you to make this easy for me." His voice seems almost choked at how cold it's suddenly become, his steely gaze locking your eyes in, as if all of his avoidance was saving up some kind of energy for this moment. He swallows thickly, before continuing, "If you try and run, or scream, or cry for help... or fuck with me...", he lists, shaking his head more and more aggressively as he seems to think of possible ways you could aggravate him, "It will not end well for you."

You can't help but stare back at the man, shocked. His entire cute, cuddly and soft demeanour has disappeared as he leans over you, kneeling in his seat and easily towering over you. He still seems a little hesitant, though, as if he hasn't planned this out too well. You suspect you're his first. That thought makes you shiver with disgust as you narrow your eyes at him, making your disdain more than evident. You want to give him a chance to prove he isn't like this, you really do. So, you decide to play along with him for a while, just to get a feel of things.

"Please... Just let me go, Okay? I won't tell anyone-", You plead, acting far more fearful than you really feel, hoping the bent man might straighten himself somewhat. His mouth hangs open a little as he watches you, predatory eyes cunning, calculating his next move.

You make to disobey him, noticing how unresponsive he is, almost as though his next actions are still buffering in his brain. You timidly place your free hand on your door-handle. As if you'd lit an unknown spark, you were about to witness the most fear-induced, rage-filled fireworks you'd ever seen. The officer springs to life, grabbing hold of his cuffs which are half around one of your wrists and using them to violently tug you away from the door.

The force of his pull has you crashing down over the gearbox and hand break, letting out a hiss of pain as the gear-stick jabs into your ribs. He then cuffs you to the steering-wheel before leaping from his door with the fervour of a man possessed. He's had an idea, and you don't feel fond of finding out what it entails. You do hold some inhuman strength thanks to you being you, but it certainly wasn't enough to break out of steel cuffs, especially after not feeding recently.

Your door is thrown open once Leon has finished stumbling around the front of his car in the pitch black to get to it. He doesn't say much, other than faintly grumbling and huffing as he roughly leans in to release the cuff from the wheel, and pulling back to admire his catch. He stares down at you as though you're some object he got for a bargain. He's so pleased with himself. He doesn't seem to feel an ounce of pity. You begin to feel a little enraged. Still, though, you look up at him with a pleading expression.

"Sorry sweetie, no chance of escaping now. Y're all mine, y'hear?" The officer practically drools the words into your ear, breath tickling your neck once he's pulled you up from your seat and as he uses his body to force you into the side of his car, facing it. His weight is pressed firmly up against you, and his voice is nothing but condescending and gruff as he seems to further accept and adapt to his new role, laboured by the force he's exerting on you.

You're not pretending to enjoy this at all, as you stand uncomfortably frozen. There is no doubt in your mind that this man knows what he's doing is wrong, and it's probably why he won't let you see his face.

Whoops, you were busy thinking, that and fear of humiliation kept you from answering his question. To politely make you aware of this, the officer promptly grabs your shoulders in a firm grip and jolts you forward harshly, like a child with a toy, crushing your front against his vehicle as he leans in closer, holding you rigid against the cold metal. "I asked if you heard..." Yeah, you snark in your mind, just like I wondered if you heard me asking you to pull over...

Whilst the cop's display was quickly causing you to become sore, it wasn't really that intimidating. In fact, your biggest worry at the moment was how unpleasant the cuff on your wrist felt, and when you'd get it off. First things first, though:

"Y-yes, I hear you sir. P-please tell me what you'll do with me...", It's a lot to ask for someone of such insane mind as Kennedy at this present moment, but you decide to try your luck. You'd had a good idea of what he wanted, but felt the need to pry, to be sure. Satisfied you seem frozen and intimidated enough, Leon pulls away from you slightly as he replies, the smirk evident in his voice:

"I'm gonna give you what you deserve, honey. Gonna take a little payback for your lift home, hm?" One hand remains on your shoulder, whilst the other slowly droops down your side, coming to rest on your waist. Leon's voice is thick with sick desire, his hips remaining attached to you as his torso is pulled away. The hand on your shoulder snakes up to your neck, gently grasping at your throat as he strokes your warm skin with his thumb, thoughtfully.

He then leans in again, almost burying his face into the other side of your neck before humming, "And there's not a thing you can do to stop me." He jerks his hips to the side a little until you can feel his holstered gun brush against you.

Ok, even for a vampire, that was a bit of a risk. You had some pretty powerful regenerative abilities, sure, but a gun? Repeatedly fired at you, especially once he got a whiff of your... undead-ness? You were toast if you didn't act carefully here. Somehow, you needed him to let you turn to face him.

You begin to plot to yourself, ignoring how his bodily warmth fights away the slicing cold of the night time air. You could tell he felt it too, his large hands beginning to shake amidst their new conquest to remove your clothes. He trembles behind you in freezing excitement, his breath and saliva warm and wet on your neck as he presses sloppy kisses up your neck towards your jaw. He takes in your temperature and scent with some form of feral passion as he marks you as his.

It clicks. That's how you'll do it. Leon wants to claim you, it's clear he won't be letting you go - you know his name. There's no way he'd be dumb enough to let you wonder off back into society after this. You had to act now, or something very dark would be in store.

Abruptly, you turn, causing him to retract his head a little in shock as those cold, predatory eyes meet your own. He scowls. The officer dislikes his sudden loss of access to your neck. He loathes his sudden lack of control. Temporarily, his lips quiver and his brows furrow.

...And he takes the bait. Leon leans in, consuming your mouth with his. He wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth, wrestling it with yours. He seems cocky, pleased as you turn to face him now, resting your hands on his toned chest as you let him kiss you roughly, kissing him back.

He's too distracted to continue trying to pry away your clothes, and instead resumes his grip on your throat with one hand, whilst the other seizes your hip, pulling it flush against himself. The heat within him only grows. In his mind, he's won entirely. He gets to use you, he gets to abuse you, and then he gets to... or rather has to... throw you away...

But he'd rather not think of that miserable task right now, and instead, he breaks away to purr shakily into your ear.

"So good for me..." He shivers, almost groaning as his hands caress your body lazily. His pupils are fully blown, both from the night, and from the equally dark lust breeding within him. He can barely see you, and that upsets him. He's also uncomfortably cold, and so he has an idea... again. "You cold too? Want me to warm you up inside?" A deft smirk brushes his features as he can't help but let his mind wonder to God knows where. Really, though, he was suggesting moving inside the car.

That was it, that was your chance. You nod, feigning bashfulness. "P-please. I'm cold, too..." You whisper, and before you know it, Leon has yanked you away from the car with one strong arm, securing you against him tightly for fear you'll escape. He walks you far enough backwards to have access to the car door, pulling it open and forcing you inside. He seems to take some care so that you don't hit your head, but as soon as you're inside, he leans in, lifting and pushing you backward forcefully so he may crawl inside too to join you. He slams closed the door behind him and reaches up to activate the light on the ceiling of the car.

Dingy yellow florescence floods the car, illuminating the features of the both of you for the first time in ages. The shadow cast only further accentuates how menacing the man is on his knees between your legs, hunched yet towering over you. His breathing laboured, his trousers strained and his face hungry. You have him right where you want him.

So, you decide to fulfil your curiosity somewhat as Leon leans back down to assault your neck and shoulder with more kisses, beginning to pry your clothes from you once more. You remark at how oddly gentle he's being with them, for a man who probably intends to murder you.

"Officer... can I ask you a question?", You whimper against him. Truth be told, you have no idea how he may respond and don't want to anger him further, but you just can't help fuel your wonder. Groggy comes his reply, mouth still cemented to your skin, sucking and licking like a man starved.

"What is it?", he croaks.

"Am I your first victim?" Leon pauses for a moment and your heart sinks as you hold your breath, before letting out a somewhat relieved sigh at his answer.

"I guess you are.", he chuckles darkly, "Everyone's gotta start somewhere, I guess." Kennedy sucks into your neck, ensuring he leaves a mark as he can't help but grind into you, pinning you down with his weight, not that you'd have tried to escape just yet.

Talking of blood and biting starts here so please don't read further if it might make you woozy!

Eventually, he leans back to admire his work, eyes focused on the purpling and glisten of your neck. Little did he know, his own neck was soon to follow suite. You'd had enough: his smug gloating, his lack of respect, even the sound of his voice irked you violently. You could feel it within you, the hunger you'd been distracted from rising up again to the front of your mind. It engulfed you, it drove you, you pictured it: sinking your fangs into that muscular throat of his.

He had you pinned down. Your first move was to convince him to come to you.

"P-please let me... let me kiss you-", you whimper, fluttering your lashes and mustering all of your acting ability to even attempt to appear aroused. His mind races, he thinks you're a fool. You've submitted to him, you're enjoying his force and power over you. He hasn't even removed your clothes and he's already desperate to do this to more and more people.

Your mind also screams at you. He's aroused, he's fired up, his blood is coursing through him double-time. Furthermore, he's an idiot. In a matter of seconds, he's going to lean into you, he's going to submit to the minimal charm you've had to employ, and he's going to give himself to you on a platter.

You imagine your fangs extended as they usually do, emerging as fine points, perfect for piercing skin and flesh. You picture the sensation of tasting his meat with them, delighting in the thick crimson that flows from him. But that image doesn't sit quite right with you, no. That way is far too painless. You're going to pincushion him with as many of your teeth as you can at once. Heck, you might even tear his flesh from him. You're burning with rage, and hunger, as once again that familiar scent draws closer.

Your eyes focus as the man leans above you, but not on his face. You can't help but stare, transfixed at his jugular as it pulses and throbs before you - just for you.

Bon appetite.

You shoot upwards, your maw wide and fanged like that of a striking snake. You connect with his neck, biting down on as much of him as you can fit, teeth sharpening subconsciously as you dig in. He begins to choke, his breath stuttering madly as his eyes widen, but otherwise he is frozen, shocked.

Your priorities are certainly straight now, reaching down to grab his gun firmly and throwing it somewhere towards the front of the car, out of his reach. Then, your hands come to rest on his shoulders, grabbing firmly as you pull away, watching as that stream of red flows from him. In your blackened, ravenous eyes, It resembles nothing but a heavenly waterfall.

The officer's bug-eyes, wide and once staring forward now connect with your own. If you could describe his expression, parted mouth and shocked brows, he looked as though he'd seen a ghost; his own. Your face is pale, but still as enchanting as when he'd first seen you walking along the road. Your eyes were black and lifeless, like his previous intentions, your lips were red, courtesy of his own stain. His own lifeforce flowed from him, running down his front, dripping onto your clothes.

He quickly sits up on his heels, petrified gaze still glued to you as he shakes before your bloodied form. One hand reaches up to clutch at his wound, from which his red continued to ebb, dribbling from between his pale digits. His other hand made a mad dash for his gun as he further shuffles backwards on the seat, leaking everywhere. He goes entirely still when he finally realises he no longer has his firearm.

You're in no hurry to stop the officer as he blindly gropes behind him for the door handle. He's in a desperate stupor, his eyes locked firmly on yours. You don't need to stop him at all, as he falls backwards out of the swiftly opening door, grunting in pain as he scrambles sluggishly to his feet. He's going to bleed out or pass out before he gets far enough away, and he seems almost aware of this as he established a stumbling run, his only goal being getting away from that car. He has to get away from you, from your charm. He has to escape you, you... you sick freak.

You're sick. You're disgusting. You bit him. What kind of...? What person would bite... How did you bite him so... so deep? It was so painful, he felt so... He felt like he was dying. He felt rotten. No, like he was rotting. He's sick. He's ill. He's dizzy. He can't think anymore. He doesn't want to think anymore.

He can't see the warm vital fluid painting his hands and torso, staining his legs, but he can feel it. It's viscous and sticky, and gradually dries into hardened, tacky layers as he falters, surrounded by the cold night air. New on the job, he's never been good with blood. He hates the sight of it, and wondered how he'd dispose of you without encountering too much of it. Ironic, now, his mind barely has room to think, as it seemed as though you'd be the death of him.

Leon's breath is ragged as he stumbles blindly through the dark, banging into a majority of the trees, getting bashed and bruised. The overwhelming taste of iron burns his throat as he pants and wheezes, pushing his body towards exertion. He wasn't sure anymore whether he should be more fearful at how slowly he was bleeding, like you'd purposefully missed any vital arteries. You couldn't have been human. When did humans- When did humans as sweet and helpless as you-

And then he falls. The ground was wet, coated in fallen, decaying leaves, twigs and other debris which further concealed the upturned roots of each densely-grown tree. As of such, it was unrealistic for him to believe he'd get far. He lands on his outstretched palms, head hitting the tree on which he'd stumbled, as he rolls into his back, groaning in pain. Meanwhile, you slowly make your way from his car. You pick up his flashlight from the centre-console, and follow the scent of his blood in the rough direction he went in.

He can hear you slowly and ungracefully trudging through the leaves, in pain yourself. He can still make it, he thinks, not knowing that you can see in the dark, which would make things much easier for you. If he could just get to his feet, he thinks, as he turns back, struggling to rise to his aching legs again, he could escape. Maybe, if he were just quiet too.

'Click.'

What's left of Leon's heart sinks, he recognises that sound perfectly well. He'd only heard it about 10 minutes ago when he'd cuffed you. He turns, face more pale than yours, a look of horror in him as he sees you. Your face, like a scene from a horror is illuminated freakishly by none other than his own flashlight. His blood is dry around your mouth as you lick your lips, tugging your arm toward yourself and forcing him to land against you. His body crashes into yours, but without any of the force or strength he had last time, and certainly without any resistance. His breath quickens as he wheezes in shock and collapses to his knees before you, arm raised like that of a puppet as it remains confined to you.

The sight before you certainly pleases.

He still has quite a bit of blood left in him, he certainly won't die anytime soon, but he thinks he will. This horrible, rotten man, broken and on his knees. You smile to yourself as he stares down at the ground, ashamed, petrified. He shakes, frozen and terror-stricken as his blood-loss training finally kicks in and he does his best to breathe more slowly. It's your perfect time to feed, you think, crouching down in front of him, allowing his arm to fall to his side as one of your hands cups his jaw. You gently guide him to look up at you, and obediently, he follows. His puppy-like eyes glistened with tears, begging for any hope of salvation.

He was so young, he thought to himself, before berating his own selfish thoughts. Yet something beckoned him to continue, as if delving into his mind might protect him in some way, as if it may save him. He was stupid. He wanted to try something. In a way, maybe he deserved to die, he ponders as his pleading, watery eyes grasp yours. Say he'd managed to have his way with you today, say he'd gotten away with it. Then what? He'd have continued, wouldn't he? He'd have hurt more people, he'd have stolen more lives all for himself. You were simply nipping him at the bud, and he almost welcomed it in his dizzied trance.

Leon's face softens as he looks up at you, a small warm smile brushes his quivering lips. He seems to have accepted his fate as he goes yet more limp, but still watches you, respectful and patient. You have not the foggiest of what's going on in his little monkey brain, but you feel satisfied that he seems to have learnt his lesson, and more importantly that he won't fight back. He's given up on running, he knows any attempt would be futile. Really, he's just glad he gets to die a human, rather than a monster.

As you lean in, placing a hand on his back to pull him closer, removing his hand from his neck, replacing it with your lips. You begin to drink from him, the blood flowing forth so easily you barely need to suck, only to lap it up. You hadn't noticed earlier: how ravenous you were, how good he tasted... How warm he was...

...How youthful his scent was. His blood tasted... healthy. It tasted good, maybe because he was still somewhat pure. He barely even tasted like he drunk alcohol, it was completely different to the drugged, unhealthy blood you were used to. It was addictive.

Leon gasps as he feels a particularly large wave of blood slosh down his front as you pull away, drenching the clenched hands resting in his lap all over again. He recognises what you are now, a vampire. He marvels at your sharp fangs, your glittering black eyes and your captivating smile. He concedes, the officer leaning into you once again, giving himself to you as his smile only grows. His eyes close and he tilts his head, further presenting himself to you. You adore his entirely unexpected series of responses as you sit before him, getting comfortable before pulling him in again and continuing to drain him slowly.

You feel so powerful, so strong as you revel in his taste and scent. The further he submits and gives himself to you, the more excited you become, humming softly in appreciation as you pull him closer, drinking him deeper. You could get lost in this feeling, you could kill him.

Eventually, Leon begins to sway as he falls weaker and weaker. He rests his head against you, collapsing almost as you wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him close tightly to stop him moving away. Leon has no idea why he gave in so easily to you. Perhaps, he truly had fallen for you when he first saw you, he thinks. Maybe, he knew this was what he deserved after treating you in such a horrible way. It may have been that he'd known escape was futile, but he'd like to think with the last of the dying voices in his mind that he at least knew how to accept his deserved fate.

With the last of his strength, Leon gently reaches up with his free, blood-crusted hand and places it on the back of your head. He holds you tenderly, like a loved one, and gently pulls you closer, as if guiding you to continue (not that you had stopped.) He wasn't able to see how your eyes widened at his embrace, nor was he able to sense how your heart fluttered just a little. He wanted you to continue, he wanted you to have him. Consciousness abandons Leon, his hand resting on your head for a while before falling back to the ground, as enervated as the rest of him. His blood flow slowed a little as he fell senseless, leaving you with one last soft breath and a silent apology.

It was then that you realised for good that you wouldn't be making a carcass of this man. Perhaps he had planned that, perhaps he had wanted to leave you with a silent plea, begging you, praying on any mercy you had within your inhuman self for forgiveness. You couldn't bring yourself to blame him, though, as you silently tend to his wounds, ensuring that he had just enough to live.

You leave then, making a point of keeping his cuffs... just in case you ran into him again.

Leon awakens an unknown while later in a hospital bed. The mark on his neck is sore, but he is clean and heavily bandaged.

He first remembers your face,

and then he remembers the entire encounter.

He remembers forcing you, he remembers being attacked.

And he also remembers where you live.

Guys, if any of you are even still here, I really really hope you somehow... enjoyed that??? My flow was so off with this fic?? It took days and it was so hard to write n every paragraph or 2 I paused and went like bro what am I writing??? This fic is not sexy at all it is just gruesome but I think it's cute at the end where reader spares Leon but especially where leon just gives up and kinda falls for the reader. It's sick. it's twisted. I';m sorry I didn't mean for it to get that weird. i had no idea where i was going with this and I feel like I described actions too much and emotions too little but it is what it is.

I also set it up for another part....? If any of you want that but I doubt it. LMAO. I hope someone out there was able to enjoy this. I'm not horrible i just really like the thought of bringing him to justice, I guess?

I also thought of a funny WWDITS thing while I was writing that so that's why there's a link on the drug blood text lmao.

I also wanna apologise I know nothing about anatomy please do NOT come at me thanks

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil #leon kennedy fanfic #re leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x vampire #vampire!reader #vampire #resident evil headcanons #bite

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utilitycaster · 1 year

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I feel myself being somewhat torn about Beau's and Caleb's involvement. While I love M9 and was far more excited about them showing up than VM (and it makes sense in-game that they did since Ludinus is the BBEG this campaign), I can't help but feel a little bit disappointed that we get even more callbacks to previous campaigns rather than letting this campaign be its own story. Would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Honestly? I'm completely fine with it. I don't see it as any different than having Planerider Ryn or Ira there - it's powerful NPC allies working towards the same goal for their own reasons. They just so happen to be past PCs.

I should probably start by addressing why I didn't like the party calling on Keyleth when Laudna died, which is that I feel, and I still do, that it cut off potentially more interesting avenues. There was the potential for a permanent death; the potential for a deal with Jiana Hexum with long-standing ramifications for the party; or a much greater potential for Delilah to come back if a cleric less storied and powerful than Pike attempted the ritual. Honestly, I've talked with other people who feel similarly who have pointed out that even having Manaia take the party to Whitestone on the grounds that it's Laudna's home and then leaving Bells Hells to fend for themselves would have been a more natural progression.

This is not that. Bells Hells were already at the Tishtan site and knew that there were potentially still allies there. This is legitimately not just a potentially world-ending cataclysm; but one that people are aware of. I mean, it's the apogee solstice, and this is a historic site of a past solstice! It's like if our summer solstices were a once in a lifetime event and someone decided to engage in massive shenanigans at Stonehenge or Machu Picchu. And Beau and Caleb are well-established to be after Ludinus. They have every reason to be there, they're providing Bells Hells with some additional information and potentially some limited support (while they're very powerful, monks are mostly helpful during combat or for scouting, and the anti-magic field means Caleb can't really provide buffs) but they aren't stealing their thunder. They're opening the possibilities and helping the party focus, rather than doing the steering. A lens, rather than a mirror.

For what it's worth I also, given the context, don't mind Keyleth showing up here. Again, the comparison is more like the Ashari and the armies of Tal'Dorei and Syngorn helping out during the Thordak fight - they're here to fight the various riffraff while the PCs do the important stuff. By having Beau and Caleb here, there are people to take care of Ludinus so Bells Hells can focus on the key, Otohan, and Liliana, and by having the Ashari show up, they won't be swarmed by Vanguard and Paragon's Call underlings in the process.

I guess the last thing to bring up is that two party members, Orym and Laudna, have always been deeply tied to past campaigns. I still would probably have preferred the hypothetical campaign where that wasn't the case and where the characters were more based in Marquet and where there had been a bit more discussion about the nature of the campaign that steered character creation. But I also don't see the point in judging the Campaign 3 we have over the Campaign 3 that could have been at this point, especially since there's still plenty to enjoy. And even had Marisha and Liam created Marquesian characters with no ties to past campaigns and with every reason to be knowledgeable about moon lore, Beau and Caleb's appearance here would still make sense.

I do hope that after the solstice we get to dive more into Bells Hells backstories and the culture of Marquet for a while! But having some Nein members here is in my opinion making that more possible, not less.

#answered #Anonymous #critical role #critical role spoilers

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gebo4482 · 3 months

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youtube

Sleight of Hand Trailer

Website / Steam

#sleight of hand #riffraff games #indie games #adventure games #action games #trailer #Youtube

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trainingdummyrabbit · 6 months

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oh btw i spent all of my time away thinking about angelica and argalia uhhhhh vaguely sorted rough notes of some kind or whatever

Angelica was always the more sociable of the two. At first it was to get a leg up, but it eventually became a thing she did just for fun. She liked seeing what made people tick. What didn't. What saying certain things would get from people. (She was always a bit too soft at heart, in Argalia's opinion.) Shes very perceptive of how people act around her, and very good at hiding whats going on in her own head at the same time. The laid-back attitude helps.

Argalia, on the other hand, would much prefer if they stuck to themselves. He's not exactly Untrusting (though he is to an extent,) he just sees other people as some arbitrary riffraff thatd only get in the way. They're annoying, mostly. But he does know how to talk his way around things-- hes just a bit sharper with his tongue than Angelica is. He hides it pretty well, at least. Aside from that, Argalia is much less tempered to frustration than his twin is. He tends to get much sharper much quicker if things start going downhill-- so he simply makes sure that doesn't happen. He overplans just about everything, treating it like a game or challenge to overcome. He doesn't much like losing. (He doesn't understand how Angelica can be so lax about it. It worries him.)

After everything that had been done to him, Argalia had foolishly believed nothing else could hurt him as badly as what he'd already been through. Of course, this city finds ways to surprise you. Post-Pianist, he has a bit of a… main character syndrome going on. He believes he will be the one to lead the foolish world to freedom. They just didn't understand. He does though. It's no surprise they're too stupid to figure it out. (Such a shame that Roland lost it that badly. He cant say hes too surprised he reacted so gracelessly. Oh, well. What was he to do about it?)

The two are highly protective of each other, but it manifests in different ways. Argalia looks up to Angelica a lot, though it shows in a rather subtle way. He's much more passive in his defensiveness-- he doesn't much like letting much of his intent show, but he is just about always keeping an eye out for her.

Angelica, in contrast, will visibly take the lead if they're together, sometimes going so far as to physically put herself in front of her brother if she doesn't like the look of a situation. It's not something that shows very often, but she tends to get rather anxious if she is away from him for too long, or if she does not know where he is. Normally it isn't much of a problem, as they tended to be within vicinity of each other more often than not, but she can get rather fussy over him if she's nervous. (He never comments on it, but he always notices. He does his best to keep her from worrying.) It was a lot more prevalent when they were younger, but it's something that relaxes a lot with time.

in conclusion: yuor honor. Two Of Them

#raaahhh AGAIN .. DISCLAIMER. havent gone thru everything again so i may b missing crucial details or whatever #imjust spinning whatever comes 2 mind. godbles ✌#piktalk #projmoon #picks them up by th scruff and shakes them around a lil. ineed to study them under a microscope. thanku. bows.

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taruth3mighty · 1 month

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... :( Some more Player headcanons since I'm just sad. As much as they are silly n goofy, they see through Joseph the mere moment they see his help center request. They're willing to give him a chance but they aren't comfortable enough to explore his house like other people n definitely get the creeps from him if the attic dialog is any indication. Whenever you try to go upstairs to Joseph's room or whatever, Player flat out refuses to go up there, saying they don't feel comfortable going up there. And considerin that Player definitely doesn't trust him, it's up to the User who can force Player to essentially help Joseph. Player likes seeing Riffraff, like they get excited every time they see him. They know he gonna come in clutch, if not, at least he tells em the right direction to go, he's reliable. He's been constantly a Player supporter n most definitely, when given the choice between Riffraff or DoodleCo, they'd choose Riffraff every time. Player just has that ride or die type of friendship with Suzie, no matter what. They're willing to do anything as long as Suzie says it. And Suzie doesn't complain much about them unlike Quincy n TJ so they get along much better. Player has that sleeper build, like underneath their hoodie, they be built different, literally. This kid can lift a fucking sewing machine with no issue, along with a whole ass bookshelf and several weights. It's safe to say they'd be pretty buff. Also it's funny to think of the silent kid being like that. Player often gets into weird ass places, like one minute they're on the ground. The next they be up in the trees. Player is actually afraid of Zavier, mainly due to Chronos. I mean why wouldn't you be afraid of the guy holding something capable of literal save states. Once Chronos decides to not listen to Zavier, that's when they throw hands. Since as afraid of Zavier they are, they are willing to throw hands with him if it means keeping their friends from harms way. Player uses gaming terminology for shit, such as "opening menu" and "click it" or stuff like that. Like Cassidy tells Player to click on the board, which to them is just looking closer at it. But to us, it means actually clicking it. Y'know? We don't know the canonical reason why Player doesn't have a phone, they just don't. TJ dropped his and it stopped working, Quincy doesn't have his since it's with Reginald. So like what if Player's mom just... forgot to give them a phone. Like they mainly stay at home so like they can just use the landline phone if ever needed.

#doodle world #doodle world roblox #player doodle world #my headcanons #headcanons

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oksana-moods · 1 year

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Queens of Promise - Part 6

Summary: There are a lot of things that you learnt throughout your life, but getting under Wanda’s skin is one of your best skills.

A/N: Didn’t take long, right? Thank you all for passing by and showing some appreciation, this means a lot.

Trigger Warning: Violence, mentions of blood, death, burial. Game of Thrones canon violence.

Previous parts here

"A darkness comes at dawn"

Campsite at the Battlefield

Wanda sighed, trashing the scroll on her hand to the fire before her feet. Seeing her friend so bothered, Natasha asked. “What was in the letter?”

“Pietro endorses my deal with Taharr, but he said that Vision disapproves it, saying that they can see our fear as a weakness and use it to double cross us.” Wanda worked her lips with the same vigor her fingers tried to ease her headache.

“Fear?” Natasha inquired, confused.

“Vision thinks that negotiating a truce to spare our army is to show our enemy that we fear lacking soldiers or can’t afford more combatants before running out of liegemen.” Wanda clarified, tired of this whole nonsense, yet she was angry for not seeing the whole picture.

“I’d hardly call it fear. Sparing your men is acting with intelligence, if anything, makes you a human worried about your own people.” Natasha offered to her friend whose crinkles looked permanent between her brows.

“I know and I agree with you.” Wanda sighed one more time, eyes cast on the fire. “They want us to return home. Immediately.”

“Will you?” Natasha was genuinely confused about the defeat on her friend’s tone.

“I already sent a bird saying that we’re leaving the campsite by tomorrow.” Wanda locked eyes with Natasha and the latter could see determination burning in them. “But we’ll move to Karov Village, I’ll only ride north after making sure Steve is free and safe with us.”

Days had passed and Wanda’s unit finally arrived in Karov. The tragical events of her last visit still fresh in her memory, a sour taste lingering on the tip of her tongue as she led her horse through the streets. Although the sign of Nebula’s Pub ‘n’ Lodge had new paintings on it, the princess saw that its interior still looked like the same.

Same smell, same people or volume of conversation and even the same person she had met few years ago. Almost on the same corner as before, you were seated with simple clothes but this time there were Taharrian details oozing from it.

You and your companions were enjoying a song-tale sang by Lady Carol, the Marvelous, just like before, however this time there was a woman seated on your lap. Hands running absentmindedly through your hair while you had your hand on the small of her back.

Wanda stared at the two of you a second too long, all the noise went to the back of her head and all she could focus on was on your hand softly caressing the woman’s skin while said woman played with your hair as if there was no one else around, even though you were talking to your friend, Captain Lady Rambeau.

There was this sick feeling bubbling, simmering on her stomach that she had to physically restrain herself from taking the remaining steps until your form and rip that woman away from your lap.

Such feelings were unexpected and completely foreign to Wanda, but she thought that seeing such behavior in public was uncanny, especially because you were a princess and should behave like one and not as riffraff.

Begrudgingly, she walked to where your group was and made herself known.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda’s voice alarmed everyone on table, except you. You kept that dashing smile that was imprinted in her mind by now.

“Did you know that Nebula’s wheat beer is the best in Noveria?” Wanda head snapped towards you and your hand lifting the beer stein as if offering her to take a stein herself.

“I’m here to retrieve a friend, not for beer tasting.” The northern princess spat, then turned to the woman sitting on your lap, who was rather wide eyed. The woman had recognized her. Good. “Who are you?” She inquired without a single trace of politeness, if the princess of Taharr could be unladylike, so could she.

“I-I’m…” The woman’s eyes darted around, as if only then she realized where she was or doing. “I’m no one, m’la-… I mean, Your Highness.” She tried, after she found her voice. Wanda could see the woman coiling on your lap and reminded herself to bite back a smile when she tried to get up.

However, the woman was stopped by your hand keeping her seated, and that brought a scowl back to Wanda’s features. You were insufferable.

“No need for pleasantries, dear. She doesn’t really care.” You half-whispered to the woman but you meant for everyone to hear you. You meant for Wanda to hear you.

Then, you turned to Wanda and spoke. “You’ll have your friend when and where we agreed, Princess.” You took a sip from your stein carelessly and Wanda couldn’t help but think that you were stalling just to get under her skin. “I remember agreeing that I’d return Lord Rogers to Sir Barnes’ care, though, not yours.”

The redhead stared at you dead in the eye and oh she hated how you could talk about important things in a tone that mixed sarcasm and seriousness the way you did. It was exasperating, to say the least. “I’m a Maximoff, and I can do whatever pleases me.”

“That little, then?” You inquired with a smirk wide in your lips. “Because with a scowl like that, I’m sure no one ever pleased you.”

Wanda’s murderous look could’ve set you on fire on the spot if she tried harder, you were sure. “I’d keep that promiscuous mouth shut if you want to live one more day, Lioness.”

“Experienced.” You muttered in between gulps of the stein’s content, pretending you were completely unbored by the conversation or her threat. To be honest, you loved to see how much effect you had on her, she hated you, of course, but you always loved to make her angrier.

Somehow, whenever she tilted her head in what should be a warning in itself did for you. She was beautiful, but there was something about her when angry that always made her look like a mad goddess. It was dangerous and you loved it. “I beg your pardon?” Wanda shot you a puzzled look and you had to fight back a laugh at how adorable she looked at that moment.

“I said my mouth is experienced, especially in pleasure, Princess.” Your smirk turned into a toothed grin while you saw Wanda registering the words you had said and their meaning.

“You are- uh, you are infuriating!” As her face burned red, Wanda stormed out of the pub before she did something she might regret later. She, surely, didn’t want to send a letter to her brother informing him that she had killed the heir of Taharr’s throne.

----

She could kill the Princess of Taharr and, certainly, would. Definitely. After they had dealt with these bandits, she would definitely kill you.

“Stop scowling and start chopping, Maximoff!” She heard the Lioness shout over the confusion generated by the clangs of metal colliding against metal.

“Let me remind you that we’re in this situation because of you.” Wanda shouted back, after she parried another sword coming to her direction.

Though completely focused on the fight happening in front of her, the redhead could still see how expertly you moved during a battle, fighting three enemies at the same time. You were indeed a great warrior and Wanda simply knew that you probably born wielding a sword.

“Please,” From the corner of her eye, she saw you kick an opponent in the chest before replying. “Could you remind me later when there isn’t a blade trying to cut our throats?” You punctuated the sentence with another strike of your sword. Now there were only two opponents.

Wanda moved swiftly parrying, striking and it felt like there was an endless sea of black hooded men, while there were too little warriors in red with gold or silver. Though Taharrian and Sokovian’s forces were visibly more skilled than those bandits, they still had numbers.

Lots of them, apparently.

She raised her shield to block another sword, but quickly counterattacked and the lifeless form hit the ground at the same time another man tried to cut her with his spear.

Wanda lost count on how many she had chopped, as you had said. Although she could feel her feet getting slower due tiredness, the redhead wouldn’t stop fighting. She felt someone bumping on her back and when she turned her head, she saw that it was you.

It took only one glimpse for her to understand the scenario. There were at least six or seven enemies surrounding you both, hence why your back was pressed against hers. You expected she’d protect yours while you guarded hers.

Could she trust you, though? Wanda’s mind was plagued by misgivings that were long carved in her brain: ‘one should never trust a Taharrian, let alone a lioness.’ You could easily hurt her now, or even let an enemy hurt her exposed form.

Her brain was haywire with doubts and concerns when her thoughts were sliced by your voice. It was muffled as you breathed through your mouth, you were tired, yet you stood tall. “I trust you’ll have my back, Wanda.”

Trust.

Was it possible for sworn enemies to trust in each other? Was it possible for her to trust you?

Right in that moment, Wanda realized that she respected and trusted in you more than she wanted and far more than she was willing to admit. Despite the war, despite all the mystery surrounding the heists and facts that didn’t add up, she trusted that you wouldn’t hurt her, and your honor would never let her get hurt on your watch.

Was she crazy for believing in you? For trusting in her enemy?

The heat of the battle made impossible for her to dwell on it any longer. Two enemies came after her at the same time and she could feel your body moving behind her.

Grunts, screams of pain and metal clinking were the only sounds she could hear past her own heartbeat on her ear. Suddenly, she felt her body being shoved by a hand on her shoulder. The movement brought her chest downwards a little, but she was still on her feet.

When her eyes found the owner of the hand, she saw an arrow craved on the ground and she could tell that you had pushed her so the arrow would miss her chest.

She was flabbergasted with you. You had just saved her, and this was probably the nth time after this strange battle had begun. Not to mention how skilled you were keeping your awareness during the battle with so many enemies attacking from so many directions.

Despite the madness surrounding you, she took her time to find your eyes and they were dark, she couldn’t see the shine and mirth they usually held. The adrenaline of the fight had hooded your eyes in a way that it was almost unrecognizable, and this brought a new feeling to her heart. One that she didn’t have a name for, though she didn’t like it.

You nodded at her then resumed your set of strikes and kicks. Taking the hint, Wanda did the same. It was visible that there were far less black hooded men standing and she could only hope that her unit had survived this slaughter.

A second too late, Wanda realized an enemy striking from her right. All that she could do was to brace herself for the attack, though it never came.

Again, you had come into her rescue and the knight’s blade found yours instead of her shoulder. With your own shoulder you pushed the man far enough to make a slice movement with your weapon and seconds later the man was kneeing on the ground, lifeless.

Princess Maximoff was about to thank you for saving her life again when an arrow hit your shoulder and your face contorted with pain.

Stunned, she watched as you barely acknowledged the wound before raising a javelin from the ground with your feet, weighted it a little then threw the spear with incredible force. Her eyes tried, and failed, to track its trajectory but a second later she saw the archer falling with the piece of metal jammed into his heart.

Wanda could only blink at the speed of the last events, still it looked like she was watching it in slow motion. With a start, she realized that the fight was over and, though not far from her there were few men running away.

Death had claimed the valley as its stage.

Most of the bodies on the ground didn’t belong to their troops, gladly. But she could recognize the ones wearing crimson and silver or burgundy and gold laid to never get up again. Their bodies and souls would be part of this valley now and forever.

Raising her head, Wanda fought back the sadness trying to invade her eyes. She could and should mourn later, right now there was too much at stake and, more importantly, to process.

Only a few knew about this meeting and even fewer knew where said meeting would take place. For all that’s worth, this was a secret, yet a whole troop of bandits had ambushed them.

This wasn’t a random attack, Fury’s Valley wasn’t a common route of traders and with the ever-growing amount of snow, not even locals would use these roads. If anything, the number of attackers told her much. Common groups of bandits rarely strike with more than ten at a time, and they would never attack a Kingdom Unit. No matter their crest.

There was a traitor.

And she would find out who they were.

Wanda looked around and saw you gathering with your people, trying to help the wounded while looking for your fallen men.

The look on your face would haunt Wanda forever. The sadness was visible but the expression you held was utterly failure. You had failed your men. And Wanda had failed hers.

Then, as if life had swatted her feet from the ground, her eyes caught an image that she thought she would never be forced to see. Not far from where she was, she saw Steve’s broken form in a pool of blood laid on the cold ground.

Sir Barnes was kneeled by his side, mourning his friend and mentor and didn’t have in him the strength to look at Wanda. She understood. Her own heart was broken beyond repair.

Lord Steve Rogers, the Righteous, was like a big brother for her and Pietro. And after their father passed, Steve guided them through their grieves and taught them the most important lessons rulers should learn. As he was known, he always sought to do what was right, no matter how hard this could be.

Wanda could only cherish on those tutoring and hope that she was prepared to do the right thing. Even though she wasn’t quite sure what the right thing was anymore.

Soon, grieve was replaced in her heart by a raging fire that ignited her whole body. She hated the war, she hated that she was losing people so dear to her and there was nothing that she could do. Therefore, she embraced rage and used it as a new source of fuel.

“You!” Wanda shouted as she walked towards you, sword raised in a menace way. From the corner of her eye, she could see the reminiscing Taharrians with puzzled looks and others already preparing to protect their princess. “I hate you!”

Maria Rambeau tried to walk towards Wanda, but she was held back by you raising your hand. “This is your fault. Steve is dead because of you!” Her voice sounded broken even to her ears, but she didn’t care. She had gone to hell and back to care about how she should behave in front of subjects or in front of her enemy.

Though never really worried about how you were perceived, your patience had been gone an hour ago. You had lost good men, and there were others that could not make it through, however, Wanda Maximoff kept acting like an idiot that couldn’t see what was in front of her, clear as crystal.

“Care to enlighten me how?” You snarled at Wanda, taking the remaining steps until you stopped inches away from the tip of her blade. With your chest plate laying on the ground, to pierce your heart with her sword wouldn’t be a difficult task.

“I won’t take your sarcasms any longer!” The redhead shouted again, though her tone was a little lower than before. “Not in a time like this!” Wanda’s body shook with anger, so much so that her hand raising her sword betrayed her. And she hated it.

Against better judgment, Wanda pushed the tip of her sword into your chest. It wasn’t much, but the white tunic soon was stained with new red blood.

She was hectic and you were the face of the calmness, barely sparing a glance at the metal cutting your skin.

“It’s not sarcasm, it was a question.” Your eyes scanned hers and the Maximoff knew you were trying to understand her outburst, even though you were shattered by your own grief. “I was fighting by your side this whole time, at least four of my own people died protecting Lord Rogers, I just don’t understand your accusations, now.”

“Those man that ambushed us…” She forced her hand to push the sword a little harder, yet you didn’t complain, didn’t even flinch, sending Wanda’s nerves further in tatters. She wanted to fight her anger out, however you acted as if she wasn’t piercing you with her blade. “You hired them.”

“I’d say this is unbelievable, but you’re always too keen on making absurd assumptions, aren’t you?” You took one step towards Wanda, and she stepped back as reflex, otherwise she’d trespass her sword through your heart. “I’m tired of this nonsense. So, you either kill me right now, or you let me take care of my wounded.”

You held her eyes and Wanda felt the moment freeze before her. Though contorted with anger, your face still held beautiful features, try as she might, but Wanda couldn’t think straight with you looking at her the way you did. Try as she might, there wasn’t a single reason for you to hire mercenaries to attack them.

Although her head was a pure chaos, your eyes grounded her somehow. The purity, the certainty pouring from them crumbled her resolve and for a second, she regrated accusing you.

Lowering her sword, Wanda retreated without saying a word.

Princess Maximoff looked around but couldn’t find Romanoff anywhere. Panic started to climb up on her throat, this couldn’t be happening to her. If she loses another friend, if she loses Natasha, it’d be her fault, no one else’s.

“Dreykov!” Wanda shouted for her lieutenant, who, in turn, was shouting orders of preparing a campsite, separate the wounded for attendance and prepare the ones they lost for their burial.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Antonia Dreykov approached the nervous leader. The woman was limping, but other than that she looked fine.

“Have you seen Romanoff?” Wanda avoided adding ‘among the dead’ into her sentence. Her heart was still hoping her guardian would be alive.

“Last time I saw her, the Black Widow and Captain Danvers were chasing the men who just attacked us, Your Highness.” The woman pointed mildly in the direction she had last seen both woman run.

“Are you sure?” Wanda frowned, why would Romanoff go out of her way to chase mercenaries? Frustration plagued her heart and the princess felt too tired all of a sudden. The recent events took a toll on her, she needed to rest.

“I am, Your Highness.” Antonia nodded her head and seeing the tiredness dripping from her Commander, she offered. “There royal barracks are basically ready, Princess. Perhaps you could rest a little and I’ll send Romanoff your way as soon as she gets back?”

Maximoff looked around and saw people complying with Dreykov’s commands, she wouldn’t deny some alone time to process the recent events.

“Okay.” The redhead muttered and started to follow the lieutenant until they stopped in front of her tent. There were more guards than usual but after the ambush, it was only obvious the extra security.

Wanda shed her armor to the ground and washed her hands and face. After fetching herself a glass of wine to help ease her nerves, her feet dragged her to a makeshift sofa near a table on the corner of the improvised room.

She closed her eyes, as if the action could help her find the answers to all her questions. She was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do or think.

Who had betrayed her? Was she wrong in accuse you? How could you be so brave even with a sword puncturing your skin? Why your somber face during the fight had bothered her?

So many questions, little to no answers.

Having let the guards aware that Romanoff and only her was allowed to disrupt her rest, Wanda wasn’t surprised when the Nat’s voice reached her ears. However, she was very relieved knowing the woman was safe and sound.

“Nat, by the gods, Antonia said you ran after the bandits.” Wanda hissed getting up to her feet.

“I did, Princess. Though Danvers and I didn’t have much luck.” Romanoff accepted the cup being offered by Wanda, her voice was rougher than usual, probably due the exertion of the fight and chase. “We only captured one, he’s in our custody.”

“And Taharr let him?” Wanda was impressed by their trust in letting them interrogate the man.

Could that mean that they were innocent indeed?

“Well, I captured him. Lady Danvers couldn’t argue against that. The others died during the fight. But considering that I only captured him because she had arrowed his thigh, I said I’d let them interrogate the man as well.”

The princess snorted at the stubbornness, an attribute accredited to Captain Lady Danvers and shared by you. Maybe all Taharrians were stubborn. Wanda, on the other hand, wasn’t one to fail with her word, and a word vowed by her unit was hers. She’d keep the deal made by Natasha.

“When will you?” The Maximoff girl felt her spirit renew, this man could give them some answers. Ones that she craved too much.

“If Your Highness agrees, I’d do it first thing in the morning.” The assassin brushed a sweated brand of her hair out of her eyes. “Tonight we’re lighting up the fire, right?”

Romanoff’s eyes were dark with grief. Lord Rogers had been by her side since she arrived at Wolfgang Castle. By then, she was perceived as a ruthless assassin, but he had seen the person underneath the title, he gave her what to fight for. A realm, a family.

And Sokovia had become her home, and the twins, though a little troublemakers, were like siblings to her. With time, people started to respect her, and Natasha developed friendship with a lot of people, many of whom had lost their lives earlier.

Therefore, her heart was grieving and begging for a revenge. She wouldn’t rest, she wouldn’t let whoever betrayed them rest, or live.

She’d learn the truth about this story, and she’d bring an end to it. Whatever it takes.

“I’ll find who tipped us off, Princess Wanda. No matter what.” She vowed to her Commander.

“Please. I want the culprit for Steve’s death.” Wanda acknowledged her protector’s words and gave her permission to do whatever she may need to uncover the truth about this whole ordeal. They were ambushed, they were a bit lost now, but that was about to change.

----

Sokovians believed that people were dust and to dust they shall return after death, therefore, the afterlife would be granted to them. Death represents part of one’s journey and their beliefs sought to respect said journey.

A huge bonfire was arranged in the middle of their battlefield would be lit by Wanda and the body of the fallen Sokovians would return to dust that night, so in the morning, their souls would be running free in the field of reeds.

Much to Wanda’s dismay, you had asked her to partake in Sokovian’s fire ceremony. The Maximoff knew that your people dealt with your deceased differently, however, here you were, not only respecting their beliefs, but also asking to add your dead soldiers into her fire.

Usually, when a person perishes in Taharr, a boat is prepared with flowers and as the boat floats with the current an ancient song of guidance is sung, after the dead is far into the waters, a member of their family shoots an arrow in flames to sink the boat consumed by fire.

Wanda always thought beautiful your culture and beliefs concerning the dead. It gave her an idea of cycle, something sacred, when everything, every energy comes from the water so after a cleanse through fire, the water shall take the strength of that person and return it to the nature.

She supposed that being so far from the seas or a river, you couldn’t give your dead the ritual as per custom, but your alternate idea still surprised her. And for that, Wanda realized just how much she respected you.

Though the solemnity last for hours, the night passed in a flash.

And with the first light in the morning, four woman strolled to where their prisoner was being held captive.

The man was afraid, fear was written all over his face as the famous assassin Natasha Romanoff, Lady Danvers, and the Princess of Sokovia and Taharr stopped right in front of him.

His eyes darted around and by your faces, he knew none of you were pleased with what happened. None of you would settle for little. His interrogation dragged for what felt like a whole day, but the Black Widow was convinced about everything he had said, eventually.

It wasn’t much. But now they’d had something to work with.

The prisoner didn’t know the name of who had hired them but showed a note with a stamp that belonged to a Hydrarr family, judging by the black and red patterns on the wax.

The note was everything they had but only read: ‘winter will be their demise’. Well, they had the note and the information that a man with northern accent hired them a moon ago.

Your head spun, trying and failing to understand what this would mean. Northern accent could mean Sokovians, Hydrarrians or even northern Asgardians that lived close to Hydrarr borders, where the accent would inevitably mix.

How many pieces does this puzzle have?

Part 7

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit

#wanda maximoff #princess wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #queens of promise #medieval au #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x female reader #slow burn #enemies to lovers #game of thrones elements #wanda maximov

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lauravanarendonkbaugh · 3 months

Text

Word Finder Tag Game

@whatwewrotepodcast has tagged me in another #Writeblr game!

My assigned words: soft, purple, lies, coward

So let's see where this goes....

Soft

“It was his own son who caused the damage,” Lisveth protested stubbornly.

“It was.”

“By climbing through a window when he’d been told to keep away entirely.”

“That’s so.”

“And we not only schooled some poorly behaved brutes, but you nearly got your arm broken when you suddenly had to work around a child.”

“All of that is true.”

“And you want us to have done all of that for less than promised.”

Galen sighed. “Want? No. But there’s only so much water that can be squeezed from a stone. And I wouldn’t feel right leaving this man in worse condition than when he hired us, even if it’s not our fault.”

Lisveth blew out her breath in an irritated little puff and crossed her arms. Galen relaxed; she was acquiescing. “I don’t like it,” she said. “But I wouldn’t feel right, either.”

The baker ruined it by calling to them. “I’m not paying that much after my oven’s broken. And if you keep insisting, I’ll tell you to get out.”

Lisveth turned on him. “Get out? Or what? Or you’ll walk two towns over to fetch the sheriff? The same sheriff who couldn’t handle the riffraff you needed us to get rid of?”

He scowled, lacking an effective answer to that.

Galen stepped back and scuffed his foot, drawing Lisveth’s attention back to him. “Let it go. We’ll take half.”

“What’s that?” the baker called.

“We’ll take half,” Lisveth snapped. “And you can thank my soft touch of a partner for it.”

Purple

Pasiphae Jade smiled, amused by his hurry. “Don’t you think we might eat together? Discuss the kingdom and its affairs? Mend our friendship? We don’t know one another well, and I thought we might change that.”

Not even she pretended to believe her words, and Kayvin did not return her smile. “I don’t believe our friendship can be mended with a meal.”

“Our partnership, then. I don’t mind if you dislike that we must work together, but we must do it regardless.” She dipped her fingers into a proffered bowl and selected a small ball of baked dough. “And I have wanted to give you a gift, though my efforts have fared poorly so far. I thought we might talk about that, too.”

He exhaled. “I did not want what you sent.”

“I know. I was so disappointed in my gifts, because they disappointed you.” She took another bite and nodded toward the garden. “Don’t worry; there are consequences for failures. Would you care for some pork? It’s so tender; it’s the first of the season’s piglets.” She indicated the approaching servitor.

Kayvin turned toward the offered platter. The meat was white and moist, sprinkled with finely diced herbs. He selected a slice and glanced up as he lifted it. He jumped in his seat, nearly dropping the meat.

The woman holding the platter faltered, more visible in her posture than expression. Her face was too swollen to convey subtle emotion, her cheeks red and purple with bruising. Her lips were split and scabbed. She dropped her eyes from his gaze.

Kayvin stared.

“You remember Fiera, don’t you?” Pasiphae Jade said, choosing a piece of fruit. “But perhaps you don’t recognize her, though it was only yesterday. You saw her so briefly, and of course she does not look quite the same.”

Lies

A local apprentice tries to hire Lisveth for a retribution job. She's explaining why it's both beneath her and dumb.

Lisveth shook her head. “I saw revenge would only continue the disaster they had started, and I refused to do their work for them. Instead, to balance the disaster, I wanted to do something great and heroic. I dreamed I’d save a town from a landslide just before it was buried, or fight away one last dragon from a guildhall, or something like that.” She shook her head. “But I don’t have that kind of magic. All I’m really good at is lies. And lies are never going to save the world.”

Confused, he frowned. “I don’t care—”

"Shut up. My wanting to do something heroic, wanting to save a thousand lives, that was another kind of revenge. And it wasn’t any more possible than the first kind, and it still wouldn’t have changed what had already happened. Saving a thousand lives won’t undo a thousand deaths, and breaking another man’s arm won’t make you any better at turning a lathe. You need to learn that early.”

“You’re not so much older than me.”

“I am; I’m just prettier. As I was saying, then I was lucky enough to meet someone who could talk me into something else. I've realized I can’t be a great hero, and I can’t do anything to change what’s already been done.”

He started to stand from the bench. “I don’t see how any of this matters to my—”

“Sit down!” she snapped. “I’m not saying this for your benefit. I’m saying this because I need to say it, and I’m saying it to you because I can’t tell anyone whose opinion I care about.”

He blinked as he worked through this.

Lisveth continued speaking over his confusion. “I’ll never make a great difference. But I can make a small difference, again and again, and that’s worth more than a silly dream of stopping a landslide. That will do more to correct the broken world than my best revenge.” She waved her hand in a lazily derisive gesture. “I know you don’t understand. Pray you’re fortunate enough to never understand.”

He screwed up his face and delivered his best dismissal. “So you think you’re a tiny hero, now? A savior of small things?”

Lisveth leaned over the table. “Even on my tiniest day, I am still not the hero of taking up a shopboy’s petty fight in a village bar for scraped together spare change. If you can’t be enough of a man to admit someone else’s skill, then at least be a big enough boy to have your own tantrums.” She gestured with her drink, sloshing. “Go.”

Coward

Galen has just survived a fireball and is drawing reasonable but incorrect conclusions.

That would make sense. It was a gift from magicians, who wielded magic against one another. It could not have helped him against the guard Ned, who had offered purely physical threat. But the fire, the magical conjured fire, had rolled over him like a wave and left him unburned.

If this were true, then the sorceress could not harm him. He stared at it, his mind working at the realization. And if she could not harm him, he could be the one to bring her down. He could avenge the caravan’s fallen and win honor for himself. And he needed honor; he had fled, had run like a terrified rabbit, had not even thought of what he was doing. He couldn’t return to San as he was now, without any explanation but his cowardice. But if he returned with the captive Fire Brigand, it would be different. And surely there was a bounty for the Fire Brigand? He could gain wealth and renown, and he could make San proud of him.

He squeezed his fingers about the amulet until the twisted wires pressed grooves into his skin. How foolish of his uncles to argue over the thing when it was of no use to them, could never be of use to them. The Heel had not faced magical danger in generations. But now Galen, son of the Heel, could use it once more to make the world safer.

Thanks for the tag! These are all from my in-progress epic fantasy series The Poet's Eye.

I'm tagging @iamtheshriekingguineapig, @avaantares, and @amarawraith, with the words none, unbelievable, blister, and sweet.

#writeblr #writing #writing game #am writing #wip #writing community #writers of tumblr #write #creative writing #The Poet's Eye #my writing #epic fantasy #fantasy fiction #authors on tumblr

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