#that if cheese could experience mortal pain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foxymoxynoona · 4 months

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So...did we ever actually get a drabble with Jungkook getting to hold Kai for the first time after he's born? 🥺 the lil' boy who's made up of him and the woman he's loved for decades 🥺

I got carried away 😅

Story: Amended Characters: Isabella & Jungkook Length: 7,322 CW: Birthing scene with references to cutting cords and placentas and stitches, health complications at birth, stress, fluffy fluff

“There’s evidence of meconium in the amniotic fluid,” were not the first words Jungkook had expected to hear the seconds before his son’s head began to emerge from between the legs of his wife. It was surreal, what he witnessed, it had seemed like an impossible thing –like a cartoon, not something women actually went through. But Isabella was real, really going through this, really clenching her fists against her chest as she curled forward and pushed with everything in her, his tough strong girl who had agreed to go through all of this again so they could do it together. She had known what this was like. He kinda did but, he was learning in the moment, not really.

Watching Isabella go through this pain and being unable to fix it was a guilt second only to knowing the pain he had caused for her when they were younger. Well, he had sort of caused this too… but she had asked him to! Very sexily! How was he supposed to have resisted sex and getting to have a baby with her! No mortal man could resist that.

“Head is out,” the doctor called and Jungkook realized he was both present and not. They had suggested he watch. He would never be able to unsee what he was seeing now, but it was trippy –not just the baby’s head, covered in gooey gunk and some kind of white… cheese looking stuff??-- but this whole image, this whole experience.

“What does that mean, meconium?” he belatedly asked as the nurses encouraged Isabella to wait, not to push, as they quickly wiped off the baby’s face and sucked snarfy sounding stuff out of the nose and mouth. A head of hair he hadn’t expected stuck out at odd angles as the baby’s mouth opened and closed in protest, eyes firmly shut in what looked more like anger as the injustice of this introduction to the world.

Do they look like me? he wondered, feeling like the room had gone still despite the rapid actions of the doctor and nurses.

Isabella yanked him out of it, demanding, “Do you see the baby? How’s it look? Is everything ok?”

“The meconium,” he repeated, not sure someone had answered.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” one of the nurses said. “It may mean nothing, we just want to get Baby really clean to keep it out of their airway.”

“What if it’s–”

Jungkook was interrupted by the doctor calling, “Ok let’s get this baby clear–” The baby’s cry interrupted him, like it was say yeah get a fucking move on here, I’m a head sticking out of a vagina!

Jungkook grabbed Isabella’s hand, wanting to be helpful and involved somehow but feeling absolutely unnecessarily. For most of labor Isabella had not wanted to be touched. It had all moved so much faster than he’d expected. It wasn’t like he could contribute much of anything as Isabella curled forward, face sweaty and red and everything in her clenched as she expelled a tiny human from her body.

“Fuck you’re so hot,” he rushed –not quite what he’d meant to say, but absolute admiration for her loosened the words.

“The fuck?” she laughed. “Doctor this man is harassing me.” Her breath was panted, her words a cheat as she stole a break

Maybe those were the first words their child heard from their mother, if the baby could hear anything over the crying.

“One more push, one more push, you’re almost done!” the nurses chanted and Jungkook saw with amazement that a baby from the hips up had now emerged. He couldn’t process that it was real, that this was really happening, that Isabella had not just grown a big belly and that there really had been a tiny person in there all along. Their tiny person.

“I love you,” he said to her, to the baby, to both of them. “You’re so cool, Isabella.” He had the sudden need to rush out as many good things as he could, so the baby would be born surrounded by words of love and kindness. He assumed Isabella had showered Ezra and Lily with love at their births but he knew their “fathers” had not, not the way he did now for them, not the way he would for this baby.

He had wanted so badly for everything with this baby to be different and now he had contributed basically nothing to Isabella’s labor. She hadn’t wanted the massages or the kisses, she hadn’t found it amusing that he’d driven her to the hospital in his cop car with the siren on, and it had all moved too quickly for him to walk her up or down the hall with their arms linked and his words of devotion carrying her through her contractions.

They’d arrived at the hospital approximately eighteen minutes ago and here she was pushing out the baby.

This wasn’t what he’d planned. He wanted to be better than Landon and Stig.

“I love you, baby, you’re amazing,” he said. Isabella grabbed his hand and squeezed it this time with her push –a short one, replaced with a stunned, open face and a gasp. OUt of the corner of his eye, Jungkook saw the baby suddenly slide down, followed by a rush of fluid and the cheers of the medical staff.

“It’s out!” Isabella cried.

“He’s been screaming, didn’t you hear him Mama?” one of the nurses joked.

“Dad, are you going to cut the cord?”

“A boy,” Jungkook cried over his son’s cries, hands itching to grab him and comfort him. He glanced at Isabella to see if that was ok, that they’d had a boy. She had insisted so many times she didn’t care either way but… but a son, a boy might be like him… would Ezra be ok with a brother…?

Isabella was reaching forward, eyes glassy as she called, “Give him here.”

“One second mama, we want to make sure we got his mouth cleared–”

“Does it look like he aspirated–”

“I see some in the mouth but–”

“Dad, you cutting this cord?” the doctor called, stretching an intestinal-looking thing as a nurse held out a pair of scissors. Jungkook took them in a stupor. He didn’t really want to do this thing, it felt wrong to cut a body party, a piece of Isabella and their baby, but in the moment he was too overwhelmed to remember he’d meant to say no. He’d never forget the way the cutting felt in his hand and quickly thrust the scissors back, attention turning towards the baby who was now being dried and looked over, a stethoscope pressed to his chest as his little legs kicked and his hands reaching for a parent who was already failing him.

Jungkook didn’t realize he’d put his hand on Isabella’s head until she grabbed his wrist, her other arm hanging in the air as she called, “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Jungkook, I can’t see–”

“They’re looking at him and listening to his chest,” Jungkook said. Isabella’s panic made his rise. Was something really wrong?

“Hey, what’s going on?” he demanded, leaving her side and striding over to the rotisserie-chicken-heating looking thing the baby was on now. He didn’t know the doctor who had suddenly appeared from nowhere in all the chaos.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Gardner,” she said, “I’m the pediatric specialist here.” She held her finger up and listened again to the baby’s chest, though he’d stopped screaming. It was more of a gentle, plaintive cry now, as if he was giving up on life–

Or comforted by Jungkook’s sudden near voice.

Jungkook shifted the active part of his brain away from the doctor and to the baby –his baby– who needed him.

“Hey, hey little guy,” he cooed, leaning down and reaching right out to stroke a little chubby cheek. He got goosebumps, saying that to his son, to a real baby that was his. The baby’s head turned, wobbly, as if trying to press against his finger. “It’s ok. It’s ok you’re just born now, and your mama is waiting to hold you close.”

The pediatric doctor was rattling things off –a weight, a height, an APGAR score.

“I hear a slight crackle,” she told the nurse writing things down. “Breathing is slightly elevated but hard to say whether that’ll linger. Let’s check his vocal cords…”

“Excuse me, Dad. You can hold his hand but I need his head,” a nurse said, nudging him out of the way to first slide on a tiny yellow hat and then hold the infant’s head steady. Jungkook felt a jolt of alarm as the doctor suddenly slid a massive camera light clamp tool thing into the tiny little mouth. The baby didn’t seem more upset by this than he already was, didn’t even flail about it, though a nurse held his legs still anyway.

“Wait, what’s going on? Is this really necessary?” Jungkook demanded, worried he was already failing his son. He needed to understand what they were doing before they just did things!

“Koo?” Isabella called. “Someone tell me what’s happening!”

“Hands and feet are still bluish but may be pinking up,” the nurse holding the legs said.

The doctor nodded and removed the tool –which Jungkook saw now was just a light, not even as big as his panic had made him think. The baby screamed louder and he felt a surge of anger that no one was answering their questions.

“Excuse me,” he said, not as politely as he intended, and promptly scooped his baby up right from beneath the doctors. There was so little weight to the body as Jungkook’s hands lifted, his skin warm and oddly dry-feeling but with a softness to it he couldn’t describe. Jungkook didn’t know what he had expected, but not for the this newborn to feel like such a baby. He was only minutes old, how did he feel so real?

Unphased, the doctor touched Jungkook’s arm and cooed at the baby, “Good good. I’m sorry, little sunshine, we just have to make sure you’re ok.”

The baby continued to cry. He was so small! And yet, not quite as small as Jungkook had expected. Sorah had been miniscule, and Amelia just about. This baby felt bigger than Sian and Parker and Sam had been, but maybe he just didn’t remember? Jungkook tucked the baby down into the crook of his arm, nestled against his chest, and took it all back; suddenly the baby felt tiny! Impossibly small! He felt like his arms were too big and awkward despite ample experience holding even very fresh babies. Many times! Not quite as fresh as this one.

He was moving on fumes now as he bounced and hummed and tried to believe this was real.

“It’s ok, you’re ok, shhhh, I’ve got you.”

“Jungkook? What’s going on?”

“We can go to mom,” the doctor said, touching Jungkook’s arm. She had a smile on her face which soothed Jungkook because it had to mean nothing was badly wrong, though he couldn’t quite fight off the resentment that this doctor had already upset his baby and delayed his comfort and not even answered his questions.

He turned away from the chicken-roaster and saw Isabella watching with absolute terror that seemed totally disconnected from the doctor and nurses still working between her legs. She looked completely ignorant of that, her whole attention trained on Jungkook and the baby. Everything right now was so weird.

The baby gave a full body shudder and a nurse suggested, “I’ll get a diaper.”

“Who cares about a diaper,” Jungkook snapped, offended she’d think he was afraid of whatever the baby might produce. He was just born! Jungkook was his dad, he didn’t care, let babies be naked! “A blanket? Please.” It was tacked on. Politeness wasn’t at the front of his mind right now; his baby needed things and what, they were worried about some pee or poop? If that would make him feel better, he could poop all he wanted!

Jungkook’s throat felt thick as he tucked the baby higher, pressing his jaw gently to the hatted top of head as he carried him over to his anxious eomma. It was crazy. It was unbelievable. He was holding the baby and he couldn’t even make sense of that yet because it actually didn’t feel that weird at all, of course he was holding his son, hadn’t he always been holding his son since the dawn of time? Wasn’t this all just a really nice dream?

A nurse held out a blanket but first Jungkook lowered the baby into Isabella’s waiting arms, then took the blanket himself and tucked it around the baby. Isabella’s gasped and immediately pushed the hat off and stoked the hair and chubby little face and papery-thin ears as tears spilled over.

“Oh my god, our baby. Look at him.”

Only then did Jungkook more fully appreciate that he had held his son for the first time. His real living breathing in-the-world son. The baby’s cries quieted to a single final chirp of complaint and then nothing, just peace on his mom’s chest. Jungkook decided the baby had been real a moment ago, there was this haze of unreal around everything until Isabella and the baby were together. Now it was real. Impossible, but real.

“Oh my god,” Isabella said again. “He’s got so much hair!” Jungkook laughed and reached out to stroke the baby’s face again too, leaning close on the bed beside Isabella, ignorant to the bustle around the room. That was just background noise now. All that mattered was that suddenly they had a baby and Isabella was holding their baby.

He felt complete in a way he had not known was missing. Him, Isabella, Ezra, Lily, Gidget, and now this baby to tie them all together, he felt whole. He suddenly desperately wanted everyone here so he could hold everyone at once. His heart would burst.

“Was that you?!” Isabella gasped, looking up at him. The whining noise had come from him, not the baby at all, though it sounded like a baby noise. He tried to explain himself but only a cracked non-word came out and he blinked rapidly against the tears. “Oh my god you’re going to cry,” Isabella giggled. Her face glowed with sweat and effort and joy and Jungkook wasn’t surprised at all the way their son stared adoringly up at it. What a beautiful first view.

“I’m trying not to,” Jungkook admitted and laughed as his eyes threatened to run over. He pressed his face to Isabella’s shoulder and drew a deep shaky breath. The blanket moved against his chin, a little foot cycling. “Hey, are you trying to kick me already?!” The baby was a solid warm lump under the blanket, so warm Jungkook couldn’t believe it as he patted the little butt he’d been shown so many times on the ultrasounds.

“Ok, I’m sorry to interrupt again, we want to draw some blood,” the pediatric doctor said.

“You have to take him?” Isabella asked, shifting as though trying to sit up. The doctor down south told her not to move, so Jungkook slid his arm across her, trying not to notice that there were stitches happening in a place stitches shouldn’t be. How was Isabella not pay any attention at all to that?!

“In a moment, but you keep holding him now. Often that helps a baby improve and wake up, which is what we want to see, he’s still a little sleepy. Right now we’re just going to stick his foot. I will explain while the nurse does that. We noticed meconium in the amniotic fluid right before he was born. Meconium is the baby’s first stool, it’s this blank inky stuff–”

“We have two other children, I remember it,” Isabella interrupted. The joy was gone from her face, she looked so serious at the doctor. Jungkook could read her mind. Spit it out already.

“The concern is whether the baby aspirates the meconium into his lungs. If so, it can make it difficult for him to get the oxygen he needs. The good news is, he looks really good, his color is good, he is responsive and strong. There were no signs of fetal distress during labor and you delivered quickly, but a quick delivery can be hard on a baby too. I do hear a slight crackle in his lungs,” the doctor continued. Jungkook watched the nurse grab their baby’s tiny foot with a needle and resisted the urge to push her away. The baby didn’t seem to notice or care anyway. He was just… existing against Isabella, breathing quickly like he couldn’t quite trust the air of this new world.

“That’s bad,” Isabella said. “Is that why he’s kind of breathing fast? Does he need oxygen or something?”

“It’s not good but we don’t know if it’s bad yet. We’ll run a blood gas to look for low blood acidity, low oxygen or increased carbon dioxide. The most accurate way we can look to see if he’s aspirated is with a laryngoscope, which we’re setting up now.”

“Right now?” Isabella asked with alarm. “He was just born!”

“The last thing we want is your baby not getting the oxygen he needs to do well,” the doctor explained. “If he needs to go on oxygen therapy, better we do that quickly.”

“But…” Isabella trailed off, face distressed, but she was already shifting to hand it over. “You can check quickly?”

“I don’t understand, he’s in danger?” Jungkook tried to catch up.

“We hope not but we want to make sure so we can react quickly. Your baby’s APGAR score was a 5, which means–”

“He needs help,” Isabella said. “Take him, do what he needs! But tell me what’s going on!”

Jungkook felt like he’d done the wrong thing bringing the baby over now. He didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t what he’d planned. He and Isabella were just supposed to snuggle their new baby now; he wasn’t supposed to trail after the doctor carrying his son back to the chicken oven where medical staff had set up several tools next to an incubation bed. Just the sight of that was terrifying and known. It meant something was really wrong.

Jungkook barely held himself together as the baby was braced again and the doctor slid an actual camera this time down the tiny throat. Jungkook wanted to push them all away but was frozen with the terror of it. What did it mean if the baby didn’t have enough oxygen? He didn’t understand in a real way, only that it was bad. What was happening to their baby?

“Faint staining,” the doctor said, looking at a grainy image on the small monitor that meant nothing to Jungkook. He wanted to scream at the awful image of his newborn child with a camera in its mouth. This was wrong, this was a nightmare.

“Very faint though,” she said as she withdrew the tools and set them on a tray for a nurse to carry off. “Let’s recheck APGAR.” Jungkook could only stand there as they ran through a series of questions again –about baby’s skin tone, response to thwacking on the heels, a pulse check, temperature. Jungkook felt like he’d shit himself, he was so anxious, but mindlessly called things over to Isabella before realizing she’d just delivered the placenta. Did he want to see it? No, he told the nurse; how could he care about that when they were listening to his baby’s lungs again? Also, kinda gross…

Suddenly the baby jolted and cried out.

“Ah! Sorry, little one, was that cold?” the doctor grinned and shared a smile with the nurses. She concentrated on listening and nodded, then glanced over her notes as the baby began squirming.

“What’s happening?” Isabella called again. “Someone tell me!”

“Your baby’s APGAR score is improving,” the doctor called back. “That’s good. That’s very good.” She slid her finger along his arm and palm and smiled when little fingers curled around it. “That’s better. That’s better, little one, you’re waking up.”

“Oxygen?” the nurse asked.

“Set up for the chest x ray, let’s do that since I saw the staining but… but these signs are good… come, let’s get baby back to mom for now.”

Jungkook wasn’t thrilled the doctor picked the baby up this time, after the nurses had added a diaper. Something about the diaper seemed wrong, like they were already trying to clean the baby up when he and Isabella just wanted to be with the baby, no diaper needed, just them. He trailed along as the doctor whose name he’d already forgotten returned the baby to Isabella’s chest, offering her a reassuring smile. Isabella looked terrified and Jungkook didn’t know what to do about it. He wasn’t sure his touch would be comforting since it hadn’t been for labor, so he just hovered beside her and watched.

“Good news, mom and dad, baby’s looking a little better. I do see signs of meconium staining on his cords but it’s very, very faint which hopefully means he aspirated very little. The crackle is still in his lungs. This is all very slight but something we want to monitor closely. His heart rate is picking up and his breathing is slowing down, all very good signs. We’ll redo the blood gas in a few hours as well but there’s a balance to strike between making sure he’s supported and not being too aggressive with anything that will tax his little lungs.”

“So what does that mean?” Isabella asked, bless her, because Jungkook didn’t understand a fucking thing.

“It means he is looking better by the minute despite aspirating the meconium so right now I want you to take the time you want to do skin to skin like you are, try to nurse him, just love on him. But we will want to watch him closely for the next few hours and if anything changes, put him on oxygen, so you’re going to see a lot of us until we’re sure he’s all right.”

“Should we do that right now?” Isabella asked. “I don’t want to hold off just for my sake–”

“No no, I promise I would not risk anything. Right now the best thing is for him to be surrounded by you and watched. When you sleep though, we will want to take him to the nursery for close watch, ok?”

“I’m here,” Jungkook reminded. “I can watch him while she sleeps.”

The doctor smiled and agreed, “Yes, absolutely. I will explain the things to watch. But both of you should rely on medical staff while you are here to get the rest you need to take care of him at home. We may have him stay here a couple extra days.”

“In the NICU?” Isabella asked.

“I don’t think he needs NICU as of now, we’ll just keep watching. He is seeming stronger by the minute, we just want to make sure we’re quick to react if that changes. See, he’s rooting, that’s a good sign too.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like she’d tossed a bucket of stress over them. He watched the baby with more anxiety than fascination as Isabella went through the motions of stroking his face and pressing her nipple into his mouth –something that seemed old hand to her after two kids but Jungkook thought was pretty fascinating. The pediatric doctor remained to watch too, a whole party of nurses as well, but Isabella didn’t seem to mind the audience.

“Is it bad?” he asked her quietly, hoping she would know more and could give him an answer.

“I don’t know… he looks so perfect… I think if it was really bad they’d have him on oxygen so they’re just watching…” She looked nervous. Conflicted. He resented that the doctor had interfered with their joy. He felt like worry was making him miss everything.

“Ready to move her to a room?” a nurse at the door called.

Jungkook trailed after them, not sure how he was supposed to fix any of this and angry that they hadn’t had more than a minute to bask in each others presence after birth and terrified that a big hand was going to suddenly reach down and steal his son away before he even got to know him.

The baby had been born shortly after seven o’clock in the morning. It was weird to get messages from family members about delivering the kids to school, about work, wanting to know when they could visit and asking for pictures. Jungkook hadn’t even taken pictures during labor or immediately after the baby was born. Another failure. He tried to make up for it in the room, snapping photos of Isabella exhausted but mooning over the baby, the baby snuggled against her chest, the baby trying to nurse because Isabella said that was fine to photograph.

Eomma and Appa came by right away and couldn’t believe a whole baby had been born in such a short period of time. Soona came too, and Gina. They all fluttered around Isabella and the baby and Jungkook was glad to have something to do, taking pictures, fetching Isabella water and food, reciting the things the doctors had said even though they didn’t make sense to him. He wished he could believe everyone’s assurances that the baby would be fine, but they didn’t know.

Soona went with him for the baby’s x-ray because he insisted, needing to feel like he was doing something for his baby. His sister was a doctor, no one would refuse to answer her questions, and Soona would tell him what they were really saying. It was all so scary. It didn’t matter that the doctors were saying things were improving, there was still that crackle in his lungs, and they decided to start him on antibiotics because he was running a fever, and Jungkook worried worried worried. A newborn baby shouldn’t run even a small fever! He was glad to have his big sister there to ask the right questions.

It was several hours before family left to let Isabella rest before more family would come by later. Jungkook nodded seriously when Eomma told him to be firm if they wanted fewer visitors –that was another thing he could do. But he knew Isabella would want the kids to come by and meet their brother as soon as they were out of school. He hoped the baby would be healthy and strong enough; it wasn’t risky, right? And–

“Jungkook.” He went at her call in an instant, leaning down on the side of the bed. “You’re worried,” she so wisely detected.

“Yeah.”

“But he’s doing ok,” she said.

“Shouldn’t they put him on oxygen just to be sure?” Jungkook asked. He’d made the mistake of looking up on his phone what it meant to aspirate meconium in a quiet moment. Low oxygen at birth could cause all sorts of brain trauma. They might not even see it for months or years. He might seem fine now but then get worse later.

“Koo.”

“Hm?”

“Snuggle down with me.” She shuffled over as best she could in the bed, and he kicked his shoes off before balancing on it with her, not trusting it would hold them both until it did. The baby had fallen asleep on her chest, sound asleep, mouth open, perfectly at peace.

“What if he’s got brain damage?” Jungkook whispered, afraid the baby would hear.

“Then we do whatever he needs,” she said. “But it wasn’t much meconium. It’s light staining. His blood gas wasn’t bad.”

“But–”

“I know,” she murmured. “Everything is so scary. Everything can go wrong and they’re so little and you feel so helpless to do anything. I feel that terror too. But look at him. He’s here, and he’s strong, I can tell.”

Jungkook had to admit the baby did look healthy and peaceful. He looked less blue and more like a little plump puffy baby. He didn’t even seem to be having a hard time breathing right now; his whole chest didn’t convulse like it had off and on all morning.

“Is he breathing?” Jungkook suddenly gasped.

“He’s breathing. I can feel it. He’s just content right now,” Isabella said. “He’s good.”

“He’s good,” Jungkook repeated.

“We have a baby.”

“We have a baby,” Jungkook repeated, then added, “And I only cried a little. There wasn’t time to cry.”

“I know. That was scary but… but it’s quiet now.”

It was. It was so quiet and peaceful. Isabella was a beast and seemed to have come through labor as if it was nothing, which he did not understand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked her, realizing he hadn’t in a few minutes.

“I’m still fine, Koo,” she laughed. “Puffy and sore. They’re going to come tell me to try and pee soon and I’ll probably cry about that. I don’t want to get out of bed.”

“You should rest. You… did a lot.”

“You think?” she giggled.

He stroked her face to get her to look up so he could kiss her and finally his touch seemed welcome. He hadn’t had time to entertain the fear it would be permanent, that space she wanted, but it was gone now anyway, just a figment of labor. He could feel she was sleepy by the low energy of her kiss, warm and soft and lazy.

“It’s so different,” she murmured.

“What is?” he asked. He kissed her forehead, his hand dropping down to rest against the lump of the baby because he needed to be part of this joyful love too. Whatever happened, the baby was loved and wanted and Isabella was right, they would figure out whatever he needed if something did go wrong later on.

“This part,” she answered. “It’s so weird. When Ezra was born, I almost felt bad for Landon because I just had this instant connection with the baby, he was mine and… and I think Landon felt very left out. He didn’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re amazing, Koo. When he was first born and the doctor had him over there and I didn’t know what was happening but you were there.”

“Doing nothing.”

“Being there. When Lily was born, you know it was just the two of us, me and her, and that felt right too. I would have liked to have a partner there but not Stig. He didn’t belong in that moment with me, meeting my daughter. She was never his. And this time… honestly, I was kind of afraid I would resent you being here.”

“Resent me like… being present at all?”

“I’ve never been someone’s wife. I’ve never had a partner the way you are. Just… people who interfere, Landon, Stig… failures as parents… I was a little afraid the baby would be born and I would just want him in my arms and everyone to go away, even you.”

Jungkook swallowed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had similar fears but it was terrifying to hear Isabella admit them. She’d fought so hard to protect and raise her children, and he’d never done this before, he fully expected his bumbling might make her defensive.

“But seeing you hold him, it feels the same as if I’m holding him,” she said. “There’s nowhere in the world our kids are safer than with you.”

Relief flooded Jungkook’s body.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Koo. Labor sucks and I couldn’t have done this again without you.”

“You seemed to do just fine,” he mumbled, abashed by her affection.

“I know I didn’t want much touching but… but you were here. And you listened when I said something and you nearly shoved that elderly couple out of the elevator so I could get in–”

“I thought you were going to have the baby in the hall,” he chuckled. “They thought so too, everyone was jumping out of the way.”

“I almost did!”

“It went faster than I thought it would.”

“Me too. My perineum isn’t happy about it.”

“Ah, the tearing…”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

“I’ll still eat there all the same but–”

“Jungkook!”

“We’ll wait until you’re all healed up and then I’ll take care of things,” he assured her, overjoyed by her scandalized glare.

“You just watched a child emerge from my vagina. I would think that’d cool your engines for a while–”

“No way. You’re so cool, Bella.”

“Here, take him.”

“Oh do you need–”

“No, just you hold him now. I bet he won’t even wake up, he’s so out. Maybe he’s going to be a heavy sleeper like you.”

“Is that bad?” he asked.

“Having a baby who sleeps well would be the greatest blessing.” He was barely listening to her because she’d started to drag the baby towards him, the whole little burrito. At the last second Jungkook recalled all the conversation about skin to skin and yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it away.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh… they said that uh, skin to skin with dad is–”

“You’re so cute,” she grinned, and dumped the baby burrito onto his chest. He was so warm Jungkook thought he must still have a fever though the nurse’s said the fever was gone. His hands and feet were now a healthy pink that Jungkook hadn’t even known to hope for.

He adjusted the little one against his chest –who, as Isabella suspected, barely stirred. His face rubbed against Jungkook’s pec and for a second he thought the baby was rooting and would wake up, but he just relaxed and slumbered on.

“What a lucky baby to have two parents with big tits,” Isabella mused.

“I’ll scream if he goes for my nipple.”

“Count on it.”

Jungkook’s laugh trailed off. He was too mesmerized. Dark hair peeked out from beneath the cap, feathery soft over little skin rolls at the back of his neck. He wasn’t swaddled, just draped with a blanket, his little body curled up like he’d probably been inside Isabella. He was so, so new, so fresh. Jungkook knew within weeks, months, years this baby was going to turn into a little person but it was hard to believe right now. Jungkook slid his thumb into the little fist, long papery fingernails barely a scratch against his skin. He had that feeling again he’d had earlier: I am complete, my family is complete. I’ve been waiting for you and now everything is good.

“Maybe we should have let Ezra and Lily skip school so they could come sooner,” Jungkook said. “It feels wrong they haven’t met him yet.”

“They’ll meet him soon and have every day with him. Enjoy the quiet now.”

“That’s true… I just miss them…”

“What are we going to introduce him by?”

“What do you mean?”

“What should we name him, Jungkook,” she snickered, and kissed his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head, briefly again distracted by how amazing she was to have delivered a fucking baby and now just be hanging out talking to him like it was no big deal. She hadn’t even cried. He’d cried from constipated shits before and now she was asking him what they should name this baby she had made?

“We had that list of names.”

“You choose.”

“What?!”

“You pick his name,” she said again. “As long as it’s not something I hate. No Wolf.”

“But you gave birth…”

“And you’re his dad. I got to name our first two.”

Jungkook studied the little face pressed to his chest. He tried to fit a name to this person, but how? Nothing fit. He was a brand new baby, a blank slate. There was no personality yet to tag a name onto, only a little potato with a head of dark hair and a history of scaring the shit out of his parents from the first minute.

But there actually was a name on the list that had seemed familiar to him from the moment he’d written it down. Isabella had not seemed to react any particular way to it, but she hadn’t struck it out, and he’d been almost afraid to point it again in case she didn’t like it. He wasn’t sure where he’d even heard it, it had just lodged in his brain.

“Kai,” he said.

“Kai?” she repeated. “Kai Jeon?”

“It sounds cool, right?” he asked hopefully.

“It sounds like a manga character,” she said, then grinned. “The protagonist. I like it.”

“Really?”

“Ezra, Lily, and Kai. It sounds good together.”

“Yeah, I thought so too!”

“So you’ve thought about this.”

“I just liked the name… OK, and what about Ronin for the middle name? The ronin were samurais who no longer served a master or family, only themselves… kind of like wandering knights… That’s cool, right? Ah, too geeky?”

“Kai Ronin Jeon sounds cool.”

“And it’s kind of like Ezra Ryan and Lily Eleanor… and Kai Ronin… it sounds good, like you said.”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Hi, Kai. You are going to have a way easier time learning to spell your name than I did so you’re welcome,” Jungkook murmured, patting the little cushy diapered butt. “Kai.” He felt a joy course through him. Yes, the name was right, he felt it in his heart. The baby was right. The family was right. The woman was definitely right.

He wanted to say that, to tell her how much this meant to him, to tell her that he recognized the miracle it had taken for them to be together like this and married and having a baby, and that she had done most of the work. He wanted to tell her he would never take this for granted, that she’d been willing to do it all one more time with him even though the last times had been so hard for her.

What came out was, “Hey I look pretty good for a dad of three, huh?”

“If you weren’t holding him, I would push you off the bed.”

“You look banging as a mom of three–”

“Jungkook–”

“Your tits are…” He trailed off, realizing they were definitely getting bigger. He’d know. He studied them carefully.

“Yeah, I think my milk is coming in faster this time, so he better have an appetite. I can’t believe he’s over nine pounds…”

“Yeah, is that good?”

“It’s big.”

“Is it? I don’t know baby sizes. He seems bigger than my nieces and nephews were.”

“It’s big.”

“He’s strong,” Jungkook decided.

“I think it’s mostly his head. He got your head.”

“Wha? I have a normal sized head.”

“Tell that to my fourteen stitches.”

“Is it really fourteen?!”

“I don’t know, I made that up, I wasn’t listening –he’s awake.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped immediately down to the little face, to the little dark eyes cracking open. His brow and mouth were scrunched, making him look very grumpy to get woken up.

“Oh hey look at that scowl, he’s definitely yours, Bella–”

“I swear to god, Jungkook.”

“Ah, I think he’s doing that breathing thing again,” Jungkook frowned as the baby began to breathe with his whole chest again. “I’ll give him to you to nurse and get a nurse to check him again.”

“You think we should?” Isabella asked and Jungkook was floored by the question, by the way she looked up at him, by the trust he felt from her. She was the one who’d had babies before! But she was relying on him as the father to help make sure their baby was ok. That Kai was ok.

“Yeah. I’d rather check too much and annoy the nurses than wait too long if he needs oxygen, right? I’m sure he’s fine but I’ll get the nurse.” He felt puffed up with the responsibility of it as he gently eased Kai over to Isabella. Kai let out a cry of complaint, just a little single yowl, and Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat.

“You like me already, huh?”

“Your tits are better,” Isabella teased.

“Definitely not true, sugar butt. I’ll be back.” He said it just to get her huff of annoyance at the saccharine pet name. Good. He loved Isabella grumpy with affection. He loved her needing him and trusting him and pulling him close when it would be so easy for her to push him away in her exhaustion and fear over their baby.

He hadn’t felt like it wasn’t true, but he felt for sure now that they were in this together. Maybe that was partly where the sense of completeness came from, not just from holding Kai and feeling like his family was complete, but this bone-deep proof now that he was Isabella’s –to have, to hold, to rely on– in a way he thought he never could be.

He went off to bother the nurses again, gladly, because there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his wife and kids.

Isabella felt it too: that connection, that worry, that relief, that wholeness.

Kai would be all right, she believed it because she had to, and because he had his daddy to take over when Isabella couldn’t. It didn’t matter if Jungkook didn’t come into this with the parenting history she did. He was Kai’s dad, and he wouldn’t quit until he got it right, until Kai had whatever he needed –just like he had with Ezra, and Lily, and Isabella.

Kai was perfect, just as both her other children had been. She had the most wonderful children in the world, and any of her fears that blending a family would be hard vanished when she held Kai. He belonged here, and Ezra and Lily would feel it too, just like they had with Jungkook even before she did.

Jungkook came back, chatting animatedly with the nurse. He’d been up all night with her once the labor pains started, trailing her like a duckling as she paced the house, timing them because she was impatient and couldn’t remember to do it, bringing her ice water, keeping his distance when she said she needed space, jumping to her side when she needed someone to lean on.

“I think Kai needs a new diaper,” she shared as Jungkook and the nurse reached her. She peeked in the back of the diaper to confirm because these early meconium poops were odorless and easy, but she’d sensed it in the way he had just curled and relaxed. She was right. Maybe some of this baby stuff would come back to her, more easily than she had feared.

Jungkook stretched his arms out, cracking his knuckles, then beamed, “All right, let’s get diaper duty started, huh? We’re going to ease into this, right, Kai? Start me off with some non-threatening stuff, yeah?”

Jungkook’s gasps of horror at the tarry stools a moment later had Isabella suppressing the laughter, her body too sore for this kind of thing.

God, every time she didn’t think she could possibly love Jungkook anymore than she already did, she found she could.

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

There are more Amended drabbles on my masterlist or read the main story here

#dad jungkook #stepdad jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fanart #jeon jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #jk x oc #jk fanfic #amended #bts dad au

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lovethesequelbaybee · 1 year

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me & kurt.

10 Famous People With Scoliosis. That's how it started. I don't often admit that my obsession with Nirvana and Kurt Cobain as a 14-year-old in 2008 came from some ugly html website meant to make kids feel more at ease with their spinal deformities.

It was always cooler to explicate a more cinematic moment; the first time someone puts on "Smells Like Teen Spirit" for you, the first time you see that yellow squiggle subversion of the smiley face adjoined to the serif-font NIRVANA t-shirt on some doomy mall goth, the first time the local classic rock station in town injects "Come As You Are" into your earlobes.

But the truth is though I was abstractly aware of the magic in those melodies and production, I didn't really feel and understand the music until I learned more about the person's life who'd written them.

Seeing Kurt as the only cool, shaggy-haired, and haphazardly-dressed person on the list (also the only dead person), my pre-teen raised-as-a-boy brain was firing and I began watching YouTube docs on his life, his drawings, his art, his lamentations, his sarcastic quips, his gravely low drawl affixed to his dry humor, his blue eyes that burst so lively even in black and white photographs.

Like this dude, I was a skinny blonde depressive, friends with the theatre kids and music kids and newspaper kids and ridiculed with homophobic slurs by the jock breeds. I also lived in a small, lame town that was frequently cold and whose only hangout was a single coffee shop and whose only excitement could be found via vandalism, cursing, Apatow-era comedies, and loud music.

The chronic pain in my spine and my weak frame didn't feel so brittle when I could blast through Nevermind and In Utero in between watching and rewatching live performances, interviews, and eventually reading three different biographies of the man (which, surprisingly, I all rented from my Christian-ass high school library, known to not carry certain books that may have been too edgy or subversive. Fuck, in that town, Pepperjack Cheese was subversive).

I ripped holes in my jeans and grew my hair long and washed it less. I got droopier sweaters with bigger stripes and exclusively wore sneakers.

I don't know that I would've been cognizant of or able to articulate this then, but I had never before seen an artist be so capable of humor and melancholy simultaneously. Around my friends, I was jocular and amiable and the facilitator for hangout or party logistics. Internally and corporeally, I was in pain, deep, constant, chronic pain. Walking, sitting, standing, sleeping, it all hurt. It made me resent the things around me, the people I loved, the books I had to carry.

Every chance I got to implement Kurt or Nirvana into an English paper or journalistic endeavor for the school paper, I would. Knowing the band's impact and lifespan were so immense yet so limited made me crave every single detail, even though so many of them were yarns by Kurt himself. I related, often embellishing my own personal stories and dreams into something resembling a caricature of myself.

I may have been a lithe, witty kid to everyone around me, lustless and harmless to boys and girls who felt no pain and were fortunate enough to experience that "immortal" feeling so consistently and often inappropriately affixed to teenagers.

I was very aware I was mortal, I couldn't think from all the misery my body was inflicting on me. I wanted to die.

But at the same time I felt like if this emaciated and misunderstood kid across the country in some other shitty frigid town could make a big impact on the world and art, maybe I could too. Maybe I could do it and not die. I mean, at the time I honestly was young enough to believe the conspiracy theories about his death. I, like many people used to and many still do, considered suicide weakness, a failure, something someone I loved who was so dead could and would not succumb to doing.

So in the minutiae of Kurt's short life, I would cling to the similarities: On freezing bus trips to neighboring towns for improv and other speech/theatre-related meets or competitions, I would look out the window and reread Heavier Than Heaven and find solace in Krist describing he and Kurt befriending some kids in Iowa on the road while waiting in line for Taco Bell, I would wonder which Iowa town and if my school bus was passing by it on the way to my performance and I would feel an almost spiritual kinship to thinking it might have been that town right there. If I had been the right age and the universe had been kind I might have met him. I wore converse and Levi's because he did, bought "grandma sweaters" as my girlfriend at the time would call them because he did. I drowned myself with all the influences he indicated he was inspired by or straight up "copying": Pixies, REM, The Vaselines, etc. etc. etc.

And though this obsession would fade as I got into other music and issues and as my back surgery in late 2008 quelled a lot of my physical ailments, the flame would fail to burn out over the years. And, perhaps due to my back surgery or all the stress and pain pills I'd had to take over the years, my stomach soon mimicked many of Kurt's stomach issues, IBS a blanket term for what doctors gave up on learning about (according to both Kurt and me now, at 30, having just had a colonoscopy and still not having many answers on why my stomach can handle less and less types of food every year).

It's comical how much of a poser I felt like for getting so into Nirvana in the mid-to-late 2000's, as if it was my fault I was born too late to see them live. Now in 2022 I'll see comments on YouTube videos of Gen Z folks typing about how much they love Kurt and Nirvana unabashedly, praising his prescient feminist, genderqueer, and anti-racist and capitalist tendencies, alongside his knack for high-powered, heavy pop and rock melodies with lyrics that could be stupid and sagacious all at once.

I felt wrong for the false nostalgia I had held onto, felt like I was disrespecting what real grunge kids in the 90's had really experienced. This was before I understood that nostalgia doesn't always have to be one's own; the kids playing teens on That 70's Show were making a living off of other people's nostalgia for god's sake.

And now I'm nostalgic for that nostalgia. For 2008. For the moments in between class where I was smartphoneless and rereading the same passages about the Reading Festival or SNL performance. For my stomach's previous durability and the simple existence of completing homework without a job or taxes or the knowledge of true intimacy with another person.

Being a teen is one of the most miserable times in your life, especially if you're chronically ill, furtively queer, and so full of emotions and creativity that seems to have no vehicle for existence. And I miss it dearly.

"Teenage angst has paid off well, now I'm bored and old" Kurt sang. And I'm happy to know more of who I am now. Grateful to have lived longer than Kurt. But I do miss the spark of that intense emotion sometimes. I have to focus more to try to access it now. Trying to access it is like trying to write when you don't feel like it, it simply can't happen. The "psychodelic angel" from Conor Oberst's "Landlocked Blues" is not always "tugging on your hand." You need a breakup or song or film or conversation to ignite the embers of youth, of intense hormones, of that particular throb.

Part of what he was looking for and trying to explore is what has kept me alive. Part of him lives in me, or so it feels like it. That's an amazing thing for art that was written off as depressing junk by a lot of my parents' generation to do.

Sometimes I'm depressing junk. Sometimes I'm attempting to be the life of the party. I'll probably always be skinny and blonde and physically feeble. But when I'm doing standup or writing a song or editing a script or drawing a picture, nobody can stop me from needing to endure those processes and the catharsis they provide. Nobody can pilfer what I feel.

#nirvana #kurt cobain #reflective #blog #music #grunge #iowa #pellaiowa #i'm30 #aging #blahblahblah #lol

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sadnesslaughs · 7 months

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You have just been hired as the janitor at an academy of magic. This, of course, is the most prestigious role in the entire academy. As you are required to have extensive knowledge of everything magical in order to handle any containments, mutants, demons, etc.

“FOOL. Silly mortal janitor, person? You have uncovered the home of the queen of the demons, the daughter of hell, the eater of nightmares. I-“ Maiz held up her arms as she stood in the blue locker, her purple eyes locked on the janitor, giving him a grin. Josh only sighed, giving the small imp a look of pity as he helped her out of the locker.

“Did someone stuff you into the locker again, Maiz?”

The imp sniffled, nodding her head before breaking down into tears, hugging the janitor. Josh patted her head, careful not to prick himself on her sharp, pointy horns. He had already made that mistake once, and the pain from getting stabbed by a demon’s horn was like being bitten by a snake. Except with a hotter burning sensation.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong this time. I only demanded a sandwich as tribute for my services.” Maiz said, keeping close to the janitor. Josh continued to pat her head, pitying the small demon. She was one of the leftovers, a familiar that couldn’t find a partner to work with. When it came time for the students to find their familiar, there were always a few that got rejected. Usually, a rejected familiar would return to hell or whatever realm they came from, except the ones like Maiz.

Maiz wanted to experience all the joys that Earth could offer, even if it meant she had to walk this realm alone. It was a sad life and a dangerous one. Without a partner, a familiar was left weakened, unable to perform to their fullest potential. Josh, of all people, knew that, which is why a bunch of students were able to stuff her into a locker, of all places. Without someone to bind her to this realm, her powers were limited.

“You can’t demand things from people. That’s not how it works. If you asked nicely, you may have gotten some food.” Josh moved about the halls, looking for the source of the magical containment. He had been told to clean up a magic issue, which could have been several things, varying from a draining spell to a hell portal.

“Can I have your sandwich?” She said, snatching the wrapped sandwich from his pocket. The demon didn’t even bother to remove the wrapping, chomping down on the ham and cheese sandwich, squishing it in it’s wrapping.

“You have to wait for the person to say yes before you take it!”

“I do? Well, did you say yes?”

Josh let it go, knowing that teaching manners to a demon would take a lot more time than he cared to put towards the task. Maiz assumed the answer was yes, not seeing any reason the human would deny her of the meal. As Josh searched the hallways, Maiz followed, not having anything better to do with her day.

“So, what are we looking for?”

“We?”

“Yeah, are you going to drag some naughty student to hell?”

“No, we send them to detention. Not hell.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One’s a place created to torment people into submission and one’s a place where demons live.” It might have sounded like he was making a joke, but hell was hardly the horrible place that all those religious textures made it out to be. Hell was, in essence, a place where demons lived. Yes, it was hot. Because demons thrived in the heat. Yes, lava poured from the ground, again because it benefited the people living there. Still, it wasn’t horrible by any means. Demons weren’t even that unpleasant to talk to. Sure, they could be stubborn and evil. That was just their nature. For the most part, they wouldn’t actively attack you unless you offended them. Which was easy to do.

When the pair came across the source of the disturbance, Josh shook his head. “Why do they always play bloody Mary in the school bathrooms?”

“Bloody Mary?”

“Yes, it’s a game. You say bloody Mary three times in a mirror, and she responds to your call. You’ve never met her? I thought she travelled to hell a lot.”

“No, I want to. Think she will partner up with me? Bloody Maiz and Mary, the blood sisters.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“What would you know, cleaning man?”

Josh kept silent, knowing that it was pointless for him to list his credentials to her. If anyone knew anything, it was him. He had been this academy's best student, which is why they gave him the most trusted position in the school. He was the one who cleaned up every mess, the person whose knowledge could compete with his professors. Josh pushed open the door, seeing bloody Mary sitting on the edge of the sink, checking her nails as the sinks overflowed with blood.

“Josh Wallace, always a pleasure.” She smiled, those blood-red eyes locking onto him as she stood up. Behind her, a boy screamed, banging against the mirror, being trapped in her prison. “Sorry, I have to keep one prisoner. I can’t let people call me for free.”

“Wow, your dress is so pretty.” Maiz stepped to the woman’s side, the imp touching the bottom of her dress, only to gag when her hand went through it, getting coated in blood.

“Thank you. I made it myself. Whose the demon? Didn’t think you would get a pet. Does she know any tricks?”

“I’m not a pet.” Maiz hovered, staring at Mary. “I’M THE EATER OF-“ With a snap of Mary’s fingers, Maiz found herself behind a mirror, continuing her speech in a silent world of her own.

“It’s going to cost you extra to free your pet, too.”

“She’s not my pet. She’s a lonely familiar. What do you want this time? Blood? Money?”

“Hm, how about this? Make a contract with that imp.”

“Why?”

“Why not? It would be funny to see you, the almighty janitor, being reduced to babysitting some imp. It would weaken you, which works great for me. If I ever decide to try and kill you, I’ll need every advantage I can get.” She smirked, tapping on the edge of the sink, waiting for Josh’s response.

“You want to kill me?”

“Not currently. Things could change later, though. It’s always good to plan for the future. So, what are you going to do? I don’t have all day. Quick, someone’s calling me.”

“Fine, I’ll make an offer to her. If she declines it, that still counts.” Josh smirked, confident the demon would never allow herself to join his side. A cocky imp like her, he would have had better luck trying to coax Mary herself into being his familiar.

“Sure, I can agree to that.” Without even a click of the fingers or magical word, the mirror opened, allowing the imp to fall through.

“The one who burns brighter than hell itself-“

“She was talking for that long? How is she not out of breath yet?” Mary grabbed the demon by her tail, picking her up, making her face Josh. “Well?”

“Maiz, I was wondering if you wanted to become my familiar. Don’t feel you have to say yes. I’m certain someone else will give you an offer.”

“YES, I WOULD LOVE TO BE YOUR FAMILIAR!” She screamed, much to the disappointment of Josh. Had he known she was that desperate, he would have thought of another plan.

Soon they signed the contract, and Mary released the student. The boy falling onto the floor, trying to avoid the puddles of blood Mary had left. When he looked up, he saw Josh crossing his arms, with Maiz standing by his side, standing a lot taller now that her powers were back to their fullest.

“What did we learn?”

“Not to summon Mary to our school?” The boy said, still getting over the horrifying situation.

“Good. Now go to class.” The boy nodded and ran off, leaving Maiz and Josh to clean up the mess. Josh uttered a small phrase, creating an army of sentient brooms and buckets, ordering them to clean up the bathroom. While they did that, he went to have his lunch break, only to pat his pocket, remembering his sandwich had already been claimed.

“So, what are we doing now? Are we going to take down a monster or stop the school from being ripped apart?”

“No, those sorts of threats are rare. You’re going to buy me lunch, since you stole my sandwich.”

“Aww, that’s not a job worthy of someone with my powers, though.”

“If you do it, I’ll allow you to pick an item from the vending machine, too.” He said, handing her the money. She greedily snatched the money and started flying off. “Get me something nice. Maybe some salt and vinegar chips.” He hoped she heard him, watching her wings flutter as she dashed off.

#short stories #writing #writing prompt #story #writer

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regrettablewritings · 3 years

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Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer imagines #character ship meme #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #thanks for your patience by the way! i would've had this up last night but i went out with family for the evening!

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dreaminpetals · 3 years

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could i request hcs for naib and Jjseph reacting to their gn s/o coming back from a match severely wounded? like broken bones or having been left to bleed out (i saw someone hc that bleeding out feels like actually dying and someone else hc that the surv is left in a comatose state while they recover from exsanguination and i RAN with it)

🔪 naib and joseph react to mortally wounded s/o . . . 🎞

tw: emetophobia and blood

NAIB SUBEDAR ;;

art credit

♡ jack had left you to bleed out after being rescued. he chased martha all the way across moonlit while you writhed in pain inches away from the rocket chair. it was so excruciating that you considered chairing yourself so you could seek medical help immediately, but your legs were broken. you couldn't move an inch.

♡ once you finally went comatose, you faded back to the manor and martha hopped into the dungeon, panicking when she saw the blood pooling below you.

♡ his foggy blades had ripped through everything you had and you weren't looking good. you were rushed to the emergency wing where emily tended to you. the doctor was thankful you were comatose, because if you were conscious the disinfectants she used were so strong you would have let out screams of agony that she could never forget.

♡ naib burst through the doors the moment he heard of your condition. he kicked a hole in the wall when he saw how many machines you were hooked up to.

♡ had he been there, he never would have let this happen. martha is young, inexperienced. she wouldn't have been willing to sacrifice herself for you either. naib would have broken all of his bones himself if it could save you from simply bruising one.

♡ the usually stoic naib was wracked with grief, hiccuping back sobs and clinging to your bandaged frame. emily's heart broke as she heard him mutter "don't go, please baby don't leave me," whenever your breathing would spike.

♡ naib is furious with himself and with everyone who let this happen to you. his fists shake his rage and he nearly bites the head off anyone who tries to speak to him.

♡ none of the other survivors can console him. when he does leave your room, his actions are frantic and his interactions with others are limited. naib has complete hope that you'll wake up and he doesn't want to miss it. also, as much as he doesn't want to admit, he wants to be the first thing you see when you rise.

♡ the doctor and mercenary grew quite close over their shared anguish for you. naib would take your vitals as you slept and help flush out your IVs when necessary. he has some experience with tending to wounded soldiers so he knows all about the proper procedures for you.

♡ however, he's never seen something like exsanguination before. he can't bear to see you be drained. naib has seen plenty of disturbing and life altering sights but he needs to step out of the room when his lover is undergoing such a process. it would traumatize him more than your status already has.

♡ he cries himself to sleep every night. the thought of losing you claws the breaths out of his throat. he pulls up a bed beside yours and stays stationed there all night, only leaving when necessary.

♡ your steady breaths in the dead of the night help to ease his nerves but he can't stay asleep for too long in case that breathing stops and he isn't able to save you again.

♡ on the day you're scheduled to wake up, naib prepares a feast and a bouquet for you. you receive several bouquets from your friends, but naib consulted emma for the best, most romantic flowers to choose.

♡ your eyes flutter open to the sight of naib jogging towards you, eyes as wide as saucers as his fingers run through his hair in disbelief. so overjoyed he can't form a single word. he peppers you with kisses and his hot tears drip onto your cheeks.

♡ the bags under his eyes are a sign that naib hasn't been boding well with your affliction. pull him into your chest, mindful of any tubes you may still be connected to, and let him rest there. speak every once in a while or card your fingers through his chestnut hair stained with sweat so he knows that you're still with him.

♡ when he wakes up to you smiling down at him, he knows things will be okay. of course he'll be extra protective of you, but this has taught him that you won't go down without a fight. it's a tad reassuring for the mercenary.

♡ once you're able to walk and fight again, naib never lets you play against jack again for good measure, and he never leaves your side during matches. it doesn't matter how many rescuers the team has, naib is staying. and he's not letting you out of his reach, never again.

JOSEPH DESAULNIERS ;;

art credit

♡ joseph knows what courting a survivor entails. you're going to be hurt by the people he lives with and there's nothing he can do about it. he warns everyone to be gentle with his s/o, but the photographer's words fall to deaf ears during grisly rank matches.

♡ this match was one of those. one where zero survivors made it past the exit gate and the feaster was left to triumph over his four victims.

♡ you had been left to bleed out after reaching your self heal limit. hastur's mighty tentacle whipped you stronger than usual, breaking your ribs and leaving you wheezing for air. the red waves of pain that pulsed through your body with every breath left you a bawling puddle on the ground, curling into a fetal position as you silently pleaded to a god that wasn't listening for the last kiter to be chaired already.

♡ mike was finally stuffed into a chair and flown back to the manor while you oozed into the ground and landed on the cold tiled floor of the manor with a thud. he gasped when he saw your condition and alerted emily right away.

♡ laying in the hospital bed, joseph teleported into the room with knitted brows and a green tint to his complexion. the sheen of bile on his chin told you he had thrown up before arriving.

♡ your approaching lover, screaming as he saw your eyes close, was the last thing you witnessed before passing out for days.

♡ as far as joseph knew, you were dead.

♡ for the second time in his life, he lost the most important person to him. he shrieked and whimpered out sobs that chilled emily to the bone. she had to explain right away that you were alive, only comatose, and you were expected to make it through.

♡ the photographer didn't believe her. he saw the bones sticking out of your torso and the blood staining your shirt, he wasn't blind. his lover was dead.

♡ emily had to politely usher him out of the room as she and aesop went to work on your body, draining the blood to restore you to your former glory. this has happened to survivors before and you were no exception.

♡ as they operated on you, joseph struggled to walk back to your room. he clung to the walls and tables lining the hallways of the manor but nothing could propel his legs to move. they felt like bricks, chaining him down to the cold tiles you collapsed on upon your doomed arrival.

♡ there isn't a shred of hope inside of joseph's body. he isn't an optimistic person, especially not when he saw his darling draw their final, ragged breath. you had the death rattle. the same rattle claude had in his final moments.

♡ he saw aesop approach your hospital room. joseph took this as a sign of your departure, when it really was emily asking for a second hand to improve your chances of survival. all the critical thinking skills leave joseph's body when you're in any sort of danger.

♡ for days he laid in your bed back in your bedroom and slept with your clothes until your scent drifted away, replaced with his musty one from not bathing. he didn't want to wash you off of him. there was a small fleck of your blood on his sleeve that he would cherish forever as a memento of you.

♡ just as he became obsessed with capturing people after claude's death, joseph was itching to claim some lives due to yours. firstly he was going to snap a picture of the barbaric feaster who dared to steal his love away from him, then the survivors in the match with you who could have saved you.

♡ his final photograph was going to be your gorgeous corpse so you could truly be preserved forever.

♡ dragging his camera equipment down the halls, he was promptly stopped by emily calling his name. she told him to come to the hospital wing to visit you.

♡ he was appalled that the doctor would dare to ask him to look at his dead lover while he was busy avenging them. joseph was moments away from trapping her in his camera world for all of eternity, pinning the woman down and reaching for his film, when she exclaimed that you were awake.

♡ he gripped his lens so hard it shattered and cut his hands.

♡ with a snap of his fingers, joseph teleported back to your bedside where you were eating a plain cheese sandwich, a bit groggy with a bedhead but awake.

♡ he thought he was hallucinating.

♡ but he wasn't.

♡ you perked up where you sat and he dashed into your arms, deep cries rumbling from his chest as his tears stained your gown. his nose was dripping with snot and he had an almost vacant stare on his face as he scanned your features. feeling down your body, his hands ghosted against some bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly against your torso. he could feel your heartbeat thrum beneath his fingertips. you were okay.

♡ you were okay.

♡ joseph proposed to you and promised to murder any hunter who hurts you again. they all listen to him.

♡ though joseph's possessiveness and obsessiveness over you grew tenfold, you were never going to be hurt again and the thought lulled him to sleep every night as you snored in his arms. he was going to protect this innocent bundle sleeping with him until he drew his last breath.

#THAT HC ABT BLEEDING OUT... OUCH #naib subedar x reader #joseph desaulniers x reader #joseph desaulniers #naib subedar #idv x reader #identity v imagines

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 9: Magic Carpet Ride

Chapters: 9/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),Drug Use

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags: A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary: Loki, paragon of self-sacrifice, must face down a cultural taboo.

Loki stared ruefully at the little bottle of pills on the table in front of him.

“You've got to be kidding me.” he said, “Your weak mortal medicine will have no affect on me.”

Tony Stark shrugged. “Works on Cap.”

“I am not your Captain Rogers. We are worlds apart.”

“The guy's a never ending science experiment. We had to develop insanely strong meds for him because, in the event that he actually managed to get hurt, our strongest stuff couldn't help him. But I have it on good authority that this'll do the trick. That authority being your brother. King of Asgard.”

Loki glared in scandalized disbelief. “You are telling me Thor actually took one of these?”

“Took some persuading, but yeah. After he came back down, he was pretty sure they'd work on you too, despite your differences.”

Loki's eyes flicked to you, then back to Stark, then to the bottle. “Hold your tongue. We don't need to discuss this any further. I will not poison myself at your command.”

“It's not poison!” Stark insisted. “It's a painkiller and anti-inflammatory. It will help you heal.”

“You cannot expect me to degrade myself for your convenience.”

“No, I expect you to lie for your convenience.” Stark shot back. “Though I don't see how hiding this from me,” he gestured at the chair, the neck brace, “actually helped you at all. You don't get anything out of it. Anyway, you really need to start cooperating if you want to stay. I'm trying to be lenient, but the more you complicate things, the more likely it is you'll be discovered. I think we all agree that would be bad.

As for you, if you want to come back downstairs and rejoin society, we've always got space for you” he said to you. “The baristas have been asking after you.”

“No!” Loki burst, “If I must befoul myself with your medicines to retain my lodgings, then I require her assistance to oversee things while I am...impaired.”

It had been an accident. Or rather, a lapse in personal judgment. You had left Loki after dressing him one morning, to fix breakfast, and Stark had shown up. And because he was your boss, and owned the building, you had just let him in. That's right, you had helped out the landlord. Your parents would be ashamed of you. You were ashamed.

And the silent fury Loki had been radiating when he wheeled out into the seating area and Stark had gotten a look at him as he really was made you surprised that he wanted to keep you around at all.

Stark had given him an exasperated earful, and then left, coming back this morning with a bottle full of small pills. You couldn't even come close to pronouncing the complicated name on the label, but from what Stark was saying, they were the kind of thing that should never be taken by a normal person. Not if they had been made with Captain America in mind. Not if they were powerful enough to string out Thor.

You were surprised Loki was even pretending to go along with this, considering the cultural attitudes to chemical medicines in Asgard. Really, you fully expected him to order you to throw the pills away once Stark left.

When you brought him his tea, he sighed deeply, his expression a mask of utter melancholic resignation.

“Crush one of those accursed pills into a powder and add it to the tea.” he said woefully. “Stay by me as I suffer this indignity. Be forgiving of any upcoming transgressions, I implore you.”

“Hey, I'm sure it won't be that bad.” you said, grabbing a cooking spoon, and carefully breaking the pill down into a fine powder with the handle. “It won't stay in your system for very long. Your body will filter it out and flush it away, and you'll be clean again.”

You brushed the powder into his teacup, and stirred until it dissolved. Then you handed it over to Loki, who stared into the cup morosely.

“Won't it be good to not be in pain, even just for a little while?”

“I thought that many times, when I was in the clutches-” He stopped abruptly. “I've thought that many times. It is always denied to me somehow. There's always a catch.” He took a long sip of the tea, and sighed again. “And so I am tainted. At least the tea doesn't taste any different. You are getting better at that.”

“Here, have a muffin.” you offered him your freshest creation. “It says on the bottle that you're supposed to take it with food.”

He accepted the muffin with all the graveness of a prisoner at his last meal, but he thanked you graciously, and stopped you when you started to leave his side.

“I will be rendered a senseless fool by this foul poison. You must stay close, so that I do not do something utterly moronic, like throwing myself from the balcony on the assumption that I can fly. I might not actually survive in my situation, and I dislike long falls anyway.”

“You're scared of heights?” you asked, scarcely able to believe it.

“No,” he said haughtily, “I dislike long falls. It is different.”

“Why do they bother you?”

“That is personal.”

“I've seen your dick.” you pointed put.

“You would not be the first.” he said, matching you for vulgarity.

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Do you want more tea?”

Loki glanced into his empty teacup, bemused to see the bottom.

“Yes, I suppose I would.” he said, setting it down for you.

He had tried to teach you the fine art of pouring tea, and you had finally managed to do it without dribbling, but, as Loki put it, you also did it without grace. He didn't say anything this time, just tightened his lips in a sarcastic way, and took a sip.

At least you knew how to make tea to his specifications. It wasn't difficult, once you had figured it out. Just measurements and timing.

He had devoured his muffin, so you brought him another. Loki was extremely particular about flavors; not adventurous at all. Even banana nut offended his senses. But cream cheese met his approval in every application so far, even if he did complain about the texture of bagels.

“You'll have to get me an Asgardian cookbook, if this keeps up.” you said. “I might be able to whip you up something that reminds you of home.”

“I do not necessarily always want to be reminded of home.” Loki said. “And some of our dishes take many hours, even days to make. I need you for more than that. You cannot be in the kitchen at every moment.”

You would never admit it to anyone, but you got a surge of secret pleasure every time Loki said that he needed you. You'd always enjoyed hearing it from others, but it was so much better coming from a god.

Though it did make you wonder if the isolation up here was messing with your head a bit.

“Besides,” he continued, “enough cheese, bread, and meat will approximate the diet well enough. Asgardians have high metabolisms, and require many calories, and so do I. Our active lifestyles tend to make us big eaters as well, although I do not get my usual exercises these days.”

“If you would actually give yourself the time to relax and heal, you might be able to get back to that sooner.”

“Yap, yap, you nag like a bratty lapdog.” He scorned. Your eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Well gee,” you said with exaggerated shock, “if you don't want me here, just go ahead and say so. I'll go downstairs and be a barista.”

“No, you cannot leave me!” There was a distinct waver in his voice. “I will be polite. You won't leave me, will you? I didn't mean it.”

“Loki.” you said, suddenly feeling guilty. He sounded like a scolded little boy, on the verge of tears. “I'm not going anywhere. Don't worry about that. You should be more polite though.”

He reached out gracefully and took your hand.

“Dear lady...” he began, his words slightly slurred, and you finally realized that the medicine was taking effect.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, filling his tea again.

“Strange.” he said. “I feel light, but like there is a weight upon my eyes. Light, but like I cannot lift my limbs. One with this chair. Melting into the floor. I do not hurt...it's been so long...”

He really was starting to tear up.

You took his tea from his trembling hand and grabbed up a tissue.

“Here you go.” you said, dabbing his eyes gently. “Go ahead and enjoy it. Pain shouldn't be an everyday thing for you, if it doesn't have to be. You don't have to feel bad for enjoying a little bit of peace.”

“No, you don't understand. I don't deserve this. The pain was at least something familiar. I don't recognize this feeling. This lightness. It doesn't feel real.”

“Well, you are real, and I am real, and the medicine is real. The feeling is the medicine acting on your perceptions, so it's kinda real, it's just different than usual, that's all.” you patted his hand, and he grabbed for yours.

“Will this feeling go away?”

“Of course!” you laughed, “don't worry, this is just temporary. It will help your neck, and when you're healed, you won't have to take it anymore.”

“What if I can't stop?” he asked. “I am...not good at refraining from...indulgence.”

“If no one brings you anymore, what could you do about it?”

“If I am healed enough to remove this brace? To move about freely? What could I not do about it?”

“You know, that's a good point. I think we'll have to find you some of that ultra-powerful super weed the cops keep saying totally exists, but no one else seems to be able to find.”

He gave you a sideways stare. “More poisons?”

“It's to help free you from the other poison. But there are multiple strategies for getting clean, if that really becomes a problem. It's not like I've never seen addicts before; I'll help you if you need me.”

He reached for your hand again, and missed.

“Blessed thing.” he blabbered. “You are a draught of Alfar wine, brewed under the starlight. The fresh breeze through the forests of Vanaheim, just after sunrise. You are the faithful moon, pure as gold.”

“And you are high as balls.” you teased, bashful about the flowery praise. You really shouldn't be pledging any more of yourself, but the allure of being needed-wanted even, was as addictive as any drug.

“You are the only once who may see.” he said. “I want no one else to see me like this. Stark especially. None save you may witness my dishonor.”

“Loki,” you mock-scolded, “if you keep looking at it like that, you'll impede your own progress. You'll fight it subconsciously, and just slow your healing down.”

“How, pray tell, should I look at it then?” he asked.

You took his hand, which was still waving around after yours.

“Look at it as permission. Permission to relax, to let the guard down and just exist for a while. You have everything you need right here, you can just be. It's okay to take some time to just be.”

“Just be what though? What is worth it for me to be?”

You shrugged. “A prince?”

“In exile.”

“A god?”

“Blasphemed rather than worshiped.”

“How about...my master?”

He squirmed a little in his chair.

“I could perhaps do that effectively.” he said quietly.

#betathetaandme #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Brother Dearest Pt 54

English Composition, Trigonometry, Calculus, Astronomy, Sociology and Rhetoric filled your Tuesday roster of classes ended with you in your mother’s old chair lounging while you drafted up more of the first papers due soon then slept to follow the list of classes for your Wednesday line up complete with a stop in your Photography club. Soon enough a week had gone by and Saturday morning you sat up in wait for your appointment with Herc later today.

Since after Mass the prior Wednesday evening in a stare at the tv set across a legal pad sat diagrams for a new set that even had the guys in their continued paths through between offers of snacks and daily pears admiring the puzzling designs. Several parts and pieces you couldn’t even find in the books available to the public that had Elliot on his latest trip to your place in an amazed look over the pages he flipped through to your anxious stare. “This is impressive, and you dreamed all of this up?”

You nodded in his glance up, “We watched the night broadcast on the storm front last week and then when I woke up those were in my head.”

His grin spread, “Well this is a very good sign. Makes the sets available to the public infantile by comparison. Have you considered manipulation of materials yet?”

“I made a screw, like thing,” you said in lifting the half metal and glass like corkscrew shaped item you were a bit timid to show him, “But it doesn’t feel like any metal or glass I’ve felt before.”

Slid forward he claimed hold of the item and smiled at it in awe turning it this way and that, “Very impressive. Manipulation is quite impossible to master, only five of our brothers were able to even attempt it and only Erich was able to master it, part of why I imagine you chose him for your Second and guardian of your essence. Is this all you have created?”

“Outside of babies, ya,” that had him chuckle to himself, “Had to sleep nearly half a day after that.”

“Yes, it can be quite draining from what I hear. Chaos magic has a weight to it. This, much like a tube for the tv set you have over there is used to harness the image. However this is much more powerful and by this design you can harness solar power to load up the wave converter box, which I can imagine for you will be the most enjoyable to make.”

“Is it all going to have to be made by manipulation? Or can we find parts here on this planet?”

“The casing and some of the more simplistic materials, screws and brackets and of course the wooden box casing could be certainly. While the aspects that power and shift and project the image onto the screen must be from materials either you manipulate or we can bribe to be smuggled off of Asgard.”

“I can imagine Odin will be pleased to have us bribing his gate keeper to build myself a television set.”

Again he chuckled and replied, “Heimdall will not require bribes.”

“Not that we have his currency anyways.”

“You are learning,” he replied, “This time of growth will aid greatly in your remembrance.”

“Ah, yes, my awakening.”

“Not exactly, have to spark the memory first, then you can pave the way to awakening. The journals are helping to show you through time and spark your imagination and memory.”

“So, maybe five television sets then I can wake up?”

Again he chuckled, “Perhaps we can expand your horizons for topics of projects to keep your mind exercised.” The doorbell rang and he smiled stating, “That must be Herc.”

“Ooh, I’ll get the tea,” you said to the whine of the kettle that had him help you up to fetch it to pour for him to Eddie’s fetch of the door to let him in to join Ambrose in the living room for the weekly check up for the both of you. Back again mentally pushing the rolling cart you returned with Teddy on your hip after having helped him fix up some sliced fruit and cheese to go with your bowls of pickled beets and baby carrots.

Victor chuckled crossing your path accepting hold of Teddy, “Come on Teddy, let’s get back to your spot and watch aunt Bunny get her check up.”

Gladly to the excited wiggle of his sister on a padded quilt on the floor still goading her body in rocks back and forth on all fours on her way to the early stages of crawling beside Leanora on her back more concerned with the toy pinned between her feet that learning to move on her own at the moment Teddy sat on Victor’s lap on the chair closest to Leanora. James already in the living room fixed up your pillows again and moved the notes and part you had made aside to help serve out the tea and snacks so he could nestle you back into your seat.

Dawn from the other room asked, “Has anyone seen my coin purse?”

Eddie upon his return said with a grin, “You left it in the kitchen by your purse.” That had her let out a puff of air and smooth a hand over her clammy forehead, “You don’t need it you need to be in bed.”

Dawn replied, “I need something to do.”

Eddie, “You’ve already given your flu to Norma now you get your butt back in bed and I will bring you some soup.”

Dawn said, “I did not give-,”

Eddie sighed and turned to scoop her up in his arms and carry her back to bed, “Honestly Sweetheart you can be so stubborn sometimes. Now get back in bed and stay there the stew and rice will be finished in a little bit. Don’t make me lock the door.”

Her grumble was heard on the staircase and you chuckled to yourself and said to Herc, “Sorry, Dawn’s got the flu, been hard to hold down. We don’t catch it but it has made Norma miserable.”

Herc chuckled and said, “Not a problem, and if you like we could give you some ground herbs to aid in their recovery from our people easy to mix in with tea or coffee to build up their immune systems. We often give it to our mortal allies through our lifetimes here. To lessen what suffering we can.”

Victor asked, “Will it make them get better quickly?”

Elliot, “Oh yes, by tomorrow at the earliest, two days depending on how early in the progression we have caught it.”

Ambrose sighed, “Well that will be used often as my boys keep passing their colds and flu’s around.”

Herc smirked and said, “I can offer monthly supplies of herbal vitamins for them if that will improve their odds of staving off this pesky cold your planet has invented.”

“Are you telling me the common cold is native to our planet?” you asked with a smirk.

Elliot, “Oh yes, and quite debilitating to a fair bit of races. While the mortals have built up a way to trudge through it, quite impressive. Most planets eradicate bacteria all together while the intestines and stomach are just a few of the locations of the human body that create habitats for strains that help to keep their bodies healthy to stave off worse strains from the world around us. Ingenious, bit mad, but ingenious.”

James, “And Jaqi won’t get sick at all?”

Herc shook his head, “There are few substances strong enough to debilitate her healing abilities and all of those are for purposes of our race.”

Victor, “What purpose could that be?”

Herc, “Labor, for one. Not in the sense she wouldn’t heal but to grant pain relief. Though it is a heavy sedative, the other two are more hallucinogenic to lower consciousness of pain to keep you awake but, mellow.”

“Like laughing gas?”

Herc, “Yes, but stronger. Most likely for labor we will give you the latter for the birth and the former for recovery to allow you rest.”

“How’d you manage to discover those medicines? Even morphine couldn’t last longer than a few seconds in my bloodstream in the war.”

Herc paused a moment then said, “Well, you gave them to us, taught us to grow them and how to harvest and mix them with the first of us. You will remember. Time has written about your studies of medicine for our race.” You nodded then he said after accepting his tea, “For now, any discomfort?”

“Not particularly, though I did get a rather rude kick to my bladder last night and nearly made a puddle on the way to the toilet.”

Ambrose chuckled knowing the bladder wars well along with Herc who set down his cup and moved to take hold of one of your feet to begin the exam there. “I wish I could aid in that, however, toes to head so you can snack and calm your girls a bit.”

A little bit beyond the basic feels of your belly and back a few feels around your ribs came before the final neck to jaw checks that had his grin spread in saying, “Perfect health. How are your skin allergies holding up?”

“Still get a few red patches from perfumes from some of the ladies at school. But lotion at home tends to fix that.”

Herc, “Honey based?”

You nodded, “Dawn’s family makes it.”

Herc, “Very good, honey is very soothing for our expecting mothers. Even some in your tea or some honey based lozenges could help while you are at school if it grows too bothersome.”

“Not to bad, just mainly in my Lit class, there’s a whole group that seem to just exhale lavender. Close to when I go home.”

Elliot, “I could possibly persuade a few young ladies to avoid the scent.”

You smirked his way, “We don’t need to go to that extreme. Can’t blank out the whole plant from the planet.”

Elliot chuckled to Eddie’s saying from his spot with Teddy now on his lap to share the snacks, “Oh I bet they could if they tried.”

Herc, “Quite a common ailment for all our brothers on this planet. Though a few centuries of exposure has built up a minor tolerance to the plant. Yet, honey has aided in our tolerance. When our brothers arrive a great many colonies of bees will be bred to aid in the exposure ailments of those who have little tolerance from no prior experience on this planet.”

Victor said, “Jimmy used to get the worst of spring every time it came around until we managed to coax him to eat honey on his rolls. Local pollen from the hives nearby helps.”

Herc grinned and said in the production of his stethoscope for the lung and heart check before the girdle scanner, “If you change your mind let us know.”

“Hard to imagine,” you said to his switch from a listen of one lung to the next, “Tear planes out of the sky but a tiny flower can take me out.”

Herc chuckled to Eddie’s saying, “Everyone has a weakness. All the best heroes do.”

You nodded and asked, “Do you think I’d be more likely for a natural birth?” His eyes snapped to yours and Eddie’s lips parted to James’ hand smoothing across your back showing you’d had this worrisome conversation before. “By my progress so far, do you think?”

Herc gave you a kind grin and answered, “Caesareans as the mortals call them are quite common amongst our people. I could give you an answer now and most likely be proven wrong for how the labor develops. Though I assure you were we have to handle the labor apart from the natural breathe and push method you are in the safest hands, especially should Eric and Sarah be present. I will warn you either way you will require a break of rest. Which you are greatly due for.”

Ambrose asked, “From it being triplets?”

Herc nodded, “Mainly yes, however there is a drastic recovery for our birthing mothers.”

“How drastic?” James asked.

Elliot said, “Where mortal mothers gradually lose the birth weight within an hour roughly Jaqi should be back to her former size. The shock can be rather upsetting to mothers especially in their first birth. My wife barely spoke at all to me for three days afterwards.”

Herc said, “The response varies, however merely prepare to be at rest for a time afterwards, that mentality of an upcoming rest can be calming for some mothers, especially with multiples. And much like when you have lost a limb before while there is rapid regrowth should we operate we will ensure your daughters are all within sight while the change occurs. We have learned that lesson of distance being discouraged for a steadying moment after birth by a few very upset mothers.”

Victor, “The drugs, made them think they imagined the pregnancy?”

Herc nodded, “Something like that.” Earning a round of calming nods to the problems your birth might entail. “However, I am certain with all of us around the trio can be cared for along with Mother while she recovers her strength.”

Ambrose asked, “Did you want us to come out or do you think you would want the quiet away from the kids?”

“I don’t really know how I will handle the long drive back again to Canada, I’d hate to put you through that ordeal with your owl girl you have a system worked out and I know you like your space after. You shouldn’t have to fawn over me, I’ve got the guys for that.”

Making them smirk your way and her nod and say, “You do have a point. At the very least we can visit with Father Thomas for a joint christening for our girls.” She looked to Herc asking, “Is there a better way to get her to Canada if she can’t handle the long drive?”

Herc nodded, “Absolutely. We can use our mist gateways to travel through which is quite safe for expecting mothers. Quick and painless we can cut the travel time, middle of the night you get to a bridge and we can drop you on the long tree lined road just outside of your town up there.”

Victor, “Be a good change, especially since we haven’t picked a car yet for when the girls are here, truck won’t be big enough for all of you soon.”

Ambrose smirked saying, “Oh don’t you worry on the car, our family is picking something top of the line like we did for when Teddy was born.” You sighed and she smiled at you with a pat of her hand on yours widening the mens’ smiles around you, “You need something safer than a truck for your girls to travel in, just finishing up the paint job last I heard.” You sighed and she said, “Cars are a given from us.”

Belly scans to supper and the first dose of medicine was given to the ailing mothers who would indeed feel better the following day and both sit excitedly with you through the first bout of crawling that Marigold took with some goading from her big brother fully recorded on film by both you and Victor.

20 weeks along and in your third week of classes the first of your private study time in the library found you at a comfortable table in a corner near to the section of books you had scanned for any titles that you had yet to read. On the other side of the section you could clearly hear a group of pre-law students who were locked in a sort of prep debate that seemed to be a losing battle. The argument however had you turn your head and sigh softly in a scoot of your chair back to ease up to your feet and halfway across the room you stopped at the directory. With ease from the drawers you pulled out simple flicks of fingers brought out the first card that onto the pad of paper atop the wooden directory you used the pen there to copy the details of the book then put the card back to pull out another drawer and find a second card to copy that as well. Smoothly you strolled back to your section and then passed it to approach the table of bickering students who relented to irritated huffs and looked up at you with curiously raised brows.

Onto the table you set the sheet as they all had their hands full of notes and books they were drawing arguments from. “This will help. First one talks about the contract clauses you were referring to. The numbers underneath is the page then paragraph. And if whoever you are bickering against brings up Malone vs Tumnson that verdict was overturned 15 years ago with an undertone of profiteering by extortion. It’s noted in the second book.” On your feet you turned while the closest student lifted the sheet, “happy arguing,” you said and went back to your seat. Into which once you settled back again while they had looked over the now torn sheet two of them were off to fetch the books they returned with the books they each read over aloud then paused. A silence that had the hair on the back of your neck shift to the known feeling of the table looking in your direction.

All at once on their feet around the table they all walked around the shelves to your table where they saw you look up from the book in your hands. “How did you know about these?”

“I’ve read every law book in the New York City Public Library.”

Another asked, “Every book?”

You nodded, “I didn’t have many friends aside from the Brocks who adopted me.”

One of them nodded and after a moment of pursed lips asked for your opinion on what book could help him on his own prompt that led you to write him a note on a spare sheet of paper you handed him stirring up a round of questions to get more help from your wealth of knowledge. Then each darted off to get back to sleuthing for what else they would need.

Left to your notes again you read through and returned each of your chosen books ignoring the newspaper in your bag that bore headlines that Princess Elizabeth was pregnant and dared to stir up comments that you were jealous of that status. Two more trips to fetch book finished off your free period and then off you went to your next class once each book was returned to its proper home.

Notes copied in their next class for the missed lab were handed over by your lab partners to you in passing. Though it really didn’t matter as the next Chemistry class again in the library where on your way to the same table you spotted General Eisenhower alongside a larger group of pre-law students, each of whom you looked over wondering what they were up to aside from possibly asking for help with their study group references. “Hello General.”

With his grin he replied, “Hello Corporal. I overheard from a few of our Law Professors how you helped some of their students with their case arguments for the lead up debates to the mock court sessions beginning next week.”

“I did,” you replied.

The General said in a notice of the approaching Law Professors who head the mock court sessions, “Well then we have an offer for you to fill up your private studies schedule. Normally amongst our pool of pre-law students we divide them into groups for four cases, Defense and Prosecution and for our best student we grant the position of Judge with the remainder chosen as the jury pool. Although it would seem this year like the last we are in need of a neutral party as the former class was unable to avoid being swayed to side with their friends no matter how convincing the arguments of the opposing party. Would you be willing to assist us? You would be fully credited for the role.”

“I suppose, how often are the cases?” You said in a combination of curiosity and a loss for how to refuse.

His grin eased out wider, “Same dates as your free classes. We will keep the schedules to that time parameter and the cases will not last a full month each, we will be ensuring neither side stalls for time. To ensure the defense is granted a speedy trial as per their rights. Two cases the first month and two more the next. They will be fully followed by the journalism students and Columbia’s Paper. Since you are not versed in courtroom etiquette I will be sitting next to you as a sort of voice of experience if you do get stumped on anything as I am somewhat versed as a Judge and have seen a fair share of Court Martial cases in my time.” A book on etiquette was handed to you and he continued, “The week before your first two cases you will be given your supply of evidence and the file pertaining to the cases. All of which has been drafted by the visiting Lawyers who will be observing the court proceedings to aid our students in their paths onwards in their studies for their degrees.”

“Okay. Happy to help.”

“I hoped you’d say that.” One of the Law Professors stated.

“Hey handsome,” you giggled in James’ place at the bench halfway to the stairs from the car who wrapped you in a warm excited hug.

“Hello my Darling,” he locked eyes with Elliot in his own grin for your meeting, “Meetings and teacher politics not getting to you yet?” He asked in the blind acceptance of your armful of books, one book heavier that had him glance down at the book on courtroom etiquette then back up to the Professor again when he spoke.

“Not too terrible yet. Though there are whispers that prep for the Easter topics are to begin to be ready in time, as if they won’t just do the same as they’ve always done.” His smirk spread to James’ excited smile your way, “You seem to be holding in some news.”

James chuckled at your curious smirk up at him and replied, “Jaqi got a set of trunks from Spain, and a thick letter as well.”

“I don’t know anyone in Spain, do any of our people live in Spain?” You asked Elliot who shook his head.

“No. There is one just past Uraguay, but last I heard from his letters he said he was off to the Brazilian rainforests on an expedition of some traces of one of your lifetimes.”

You nodded and asked, “Well are you free and up for an adventure?”

That widened his smile and James’, “Thank you I would adore a chance to explore with you. And I speak and read various forms of Spanish if you require translations.”

“There’s more than one? Like French French and French Canadian?”

“Oh yes, not to mention Creole, which in Louisiana is a variation of French as well to an extent.”

Before you could ask in your turn James said, “We can’t go to Louisiana, me and Vic are still wanted there.” Your brow inched up and he flashed you a grin, “We um, blew up some buildings in the Civil War to track down a relative of a friend serving with us. I know they’re dead, but, some places still have our wanted posters on display.”

“I don’t,” you said in a shake of your head and he cut you off.

“Four of them were banks, you remember that guy who you asked if he was following us down in Texas?” You nodded, “He tried to corner me and Vic on your school tour trip. We hit a lot of banks, he wanted to ask where the money went. Had to make a few calls to make him leave.”

“If you just blew them up why would he think you had,” your lips parted to his smile that flinched wider a moment anxiously, and you asked softer, “You robbed banks too?”

“Hit a rough patch, after Xander.” He inhaled sharply then said, “But we didn’t keep it, drank it away, bought out some slave auctions to smuggle up North, but don’t worry, don’t have a cent of it now so it can’t hurt us.”

You pointed at him a moment then shook your head and curled the finger back and turned to the car, “Just when I was getting used to you’re being hired as a grave robber.”

He looked to Elliot and said, “We worked with Archeologists on digs.”

Elliot nodded mid chuckle, “Yes, I’ve seen you two in a few pictures, I’ve been collecting them. To go in our records.” James stepped back and opened the car door for you and Elliot said, “I’ll get my car and be right behind you.”

James nodded and looked to you in your ease down into the car he closed and hurried around to climb inside and fire up again with a timid grin. “Are you mad?”

You glanced at him and shook your head with a grin, “Just, bit of an odd day to hear you robbed banks.”

He shifted on the seat to ask, “Odd how?”

“Well the General found me in the library,” that had him nod, “And he asked if I would sit as Judge for the law students’ mock trials. Apparently there’s four trials and the top students are attorneys, the rest are witnesses, defendants and jurors. There will be a retired cop group for the bailiff and guards and actual attorneys sitting to judge the whole thing.”

“Why you? I love you, but why you? Clearly you aren’t in their classes.”

“Well I helped some guys the other day with their arguments and they told their Professors I’ve read all the law books in the Public Library and the General heard and he’s seen some Court Martials so he’s acting as my sort of buffer if I need help with something and gave me a book to read on how to act and procedure and all that.”

He nodded and said, “Well I’m sure you’ll be fantastic. Are you excited?”

“Um, I don’t know. They’ve scheduled the court sessions on my new study breaks and even the journalism students will be there to write all about it.” He nodded and turned to get you home at the mild shiver you fought back to get you home to the warm house to open your mystery trunks. “Apparently past few years they couldn’t get the top student to not side towards his friends or against those he doesn’t like so they wanted a neutral party I think they asked the General first and I was a convenient person to hand it over to.”

“Well if you change your mind just let them know.”

You nodded and asked, “Did you ever knock over any stage coaches or rob any trains or any other big heists I should know about?”

“Best you don’t know,” he hummed in a grin your way to your playfully challenging smirk, “Plausible deniability.”

“Ok,” you said in a content sigh settled into your mother’s chair, “I’m sitting down.” You said accepting he letter that Victor handed to you after having insisted that you sit first after the long day at school while his other hand lifted your legs for the footrest James brought over for you. “Hmm,” you said eyeing the front of the letter that was styled familiarly to how King George’s letters usually came.

Turning it over you eyed the wax seal there that had Elliot say, “That’s the seal of the Monarch of Spain.”

Once broken and lifted the flap was peers under and gently you pulled the folded pages out that you unfolded to read the top page after a clearing of your throat to the excited crowd of family around you.

“Baroness Jaqiearae Pear Howlett, we have not been formerly introduced. And I do hope you will not take this as forward of me however there is a new discovery of mine that I have wished to share with you since the first time I had seen your image in the photographs of the first meeting of you and His Highness King George VI. For a great many years I lived in Italy to focus upon my education prior to my having succeeded the Crown of Spain, and whilst there there is one figure that ages back to the very beginnings of my country.

The Queen of the Hare, for many nations all through Central and Southern America this figure exists and often in several places recorded at one time. Proof enough for some to have labeled her as a myth others used the name of to amass great fortunes and power amongst those they live in the same territories. All of them named Jaqiearae and described exactly the same as my Ambassador had described you upon his meeting you at the wedding of Princess Elizabeth of England with an affection for rabbits in one form or another.

The greatest in power, unlike the others, of which being the tales from my homeland of Spain. Said to have once been able to in a lift of her hand force an entire fleet of soldiers to strip them of their armor and weapons and in a cloud likened to a colorful starry sky fog they were off the shores and back on their ships that began to sail away from the shore. Eventually our King of old wished to have that devotion from those who in his ear whispered of plots to possibly overthrow him and put her in his place ordered her to be executed only to find her home empty upon arrival save for a symbol etched into the door.

Similar actions to those from central and Southern America from my studies and continuing even on further several kingdoms throughout Europe have similar tales with the same symbol and unreadable runes. All of which end in the same mysterious flight from all rumored to be directed towards Ireland, from where your family hails, to join the Pagans and to our people’s belief to spurn the advances of the British to claim their lands as long as possible.

Concerning the trunks, I have included a detailed list of how the documents inside are arranged. Including several letters in communications between various Kings and Queens with various Popes and religious figures to aid in overthrowing the assumed Witch ensnaring their people’s minds. While for others had been deemed a benevolent Goddess healing those brought to her with mystical powers unrivaled and unexplainable to even be able to bring those back from the very brink of death itself. All of which are amongst copies of documents both translated and not along with photographs of sketches and portraits of the varied women using the name. This is all I have acquired in my years of study into this myth that have been aided by copies from other countries to aid in possibly filling in some family history for you since I have been informed you were orphaned young and might have lost a great chunk of that lineage to have been shared with you as you grew.

My people were very disheartened to have heard of the stories being published concerning your health and know that you have been in our prayers wishing that those stories are false and you will be granted a great many children whenever God deems you and the Baron ready to welcome them. As always you will have a fond place within our hearts as the hopeful descendant of our cherished Queen of the Hare and know that when ready we will welcome you with open arms in a tour of Spain including the castle which your ancestor built herself.”

A moment you paused to giggle then say, “And it goes without saying none here will hold you responsible for any of the supposed crimes committed by the magnanimous Queen no matter how uncanny the resemblance or similarly brilliant mind capable of the same miraculous ability to protect those they cherish.” Making the others chuckle before you said, “Signed, Juan Carlos the first, Monarch of Spain.”

James teased, “So we’re not the only criminals of the family.”

That made you smirk back and then roll your eyes to Eddie’s saying, “Anything but a life of crime would never suit us misfits.”

“Just goes to prove I am not the voice of reason some people assume in our bunch.”

Victor chuckled and asked, “Which case first?”

You glanced over the second page and said, “The one from, Japan is in the hat box shaped one.”

Victor hummed amusedly, “You were in Japan? Wonder when.” He lifted the box and peered inside saying, “All in Japanese. We can translate those later for you.”

“Um, Czechoslovakia, Sweden and Norway are in the briefcase one underneath that. Egypt, Italy, Greece, and Ireland are in the smaller chest, with the copies of what he’s gathered from England’s records as well. Just leaving the large trunk for South America.”

Elliot nodded and said, “Well I can get started on the large trunk, browse through what he has gathered.”

You nodded and said, “I guess I’ll check out the briefcase one, since it’s the smallest collection.” James and Victor brought it over and from the top down you began to read the top page of the first paper folder bound with twine on the stack of more bound stacks that filled the box and named the order the history was complied.

Elliot however drew your gaze by his saying, “These are Royal Record copies. Not available to the non-noble born historians. No telling what’s in these.” More amused by the secrecy of it all while you smirked and unwound the folder that while he began to use his own golden pen and a legal pad from a stack of spares to translate the first document while you turned through the stack of papers you would need to translate later from translation guides the guys would pick up for you off the list they were making and stopped to each photograph of various photographs and diagrams and sketches throughout. By the fifth folder you had to take a break and move to have the dinner that had finished cooking where you said, “It could take us years to go through all this.”

Elliot said, “I could call the twins to stay with me.”

Dawn asked, “The twins?”

Elliot glanced between you and said, “Oh, yes, they live out in Maine, mostly hermits but they have a good deal of money to live off of from several sound investments over the years. While we work they could translate the documents.”

“Wouldn’t that be bordering on abuse of power? To have them translate everything for us?”

That had him chuckle and say, “The pair of them together aided in the formation of the Oxford Dictionaries and translation guides to several languages both dead and still kicking. They compile all of our discoveries into the directory vaults we have. Trust me, they are starving for information like this and much like the scans for your children the information will be compiled in holograms as well within our system for easy travel between locations and events. Even be able to show you pinpoints on maps for events to show where you were focused and then perhaps when they are done we might know why you chose now to come back and be solid again. We’ve already deduced James and Victor had to be in Canada before that big meteor shower that one of your former selves hinted at within our runes back on Asgard.”

Norma said, “That Hubble guy, he discovered the universe in 1925. We learned about it in school.”

Elliot drew in a breath, “Yes, how could I forget that.”

Eddie, “So, this planet finds out that it’s one universe of many and you decide now’s the time. It fits. Us being aliens and all.”

Dawn asked, “Is it that big of a deal to know why now?”

Elliot shook his head, “Not particularly to us, though others will question it eventually. Now we can say Jaqi chose the year this planet essentially realized they were not alone and came to help them grow.”

Victor, “Much better than the alternative that you came to fight in the war.”

You asked, “Could that be why that Ares guy came to start the First World War?”

Elliot nodded, “It is plausible. Discovery of other planets and technology of their own means helped to dismantle their power scope over the mortals. While the country is at war mainly brute strength is focused on, not intellectual growth.”

Norma said, “Either way I can’t wait to hear what you have been up to on this planet. Be a nice change to not hear another endless cycle of history written about the men of this planet.”

That had you giggle and say, “Well if I’ve had numerous Popes contacted to have me exorcised no telling what hell I gave those Kings and their soldiers.”

Pt 55

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam, @swoopswishsward

#James Howlett x OC #Victor Creed x Norma Jeane #Eddie Brock x OC #Venom #Elliot Randolph #Classes #Surprise Gifts from Spain #History of Mystery #Queen of the Hare #Marvel #XMen #Proposition #Mock Jury Judge #General Eisenhower #Baby Check #OC Herc

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spitefulqueenofdemons · 3 years

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https://spitefulqueenofdemons.tumblr.com/post/643713435650113536/sleep-deprived part 2

Pushing Up Daisies chapter 3

Tw: language, murder, guns, cops, mentions of drugs

Word count: 1373

Summary: After having woken up tied to a chunk of concrete under water and doing an unspeakable act (for your survival??) You find yourself out of options and people to help. Well almost, the only one you think might be able to help is the one who got you in this situation in the first place

After a long shower and several hours on the internet searching for anything that could tell you what was going on. Apart from a few hundred movies and books with undead content the most concrete actual zombie anything you could find was mostly about the voodoo dust that people used to put others under control. And back in the 18, and 1900s people accidentally being buried alive.

There was virtually nothing about zombies in Seattle. All you knew for sure was what had happened to you. You confronted Blaine, he grabbed you, shot you, dumped you in a lake and you woke up you dont know how long after underwater with no need to breath.

As you thought and absently read yet another article about 'Haitian Zombies' you rubbed your hand against your wrist that Blaine had grabbed you with. The scratch marks on your arm were as faint as old scars but you could feel them still.

And just like that realization hit. The red eyes made sense. Blaine was a zombie, and that lady who was working the front counter probably was too. It had to be some sort of virus or something that could be transferred through scratch. The teenager in you was thrilled that zombies were real and not mindless corpses that just wandered around destroying everything it came across. Sure when you first emerged from the lake you couldnt control yourself and killed that poor innocent man but you were literally starving.

Perhaps that was the down side. The hunger is enough to blind you from any moral standing. Even more unfortunate, you didnt know how long what brains you did eat earlier would keep you satiated and you didnt have a way to get more without committing more murder. You didnt know anything about the zombieism other than the scratch causes it.

You really only had an one option. Go back to Blaine. He had options. Once you got there he could kill you, or turn you away, or kill you. You had gone in only, according to your microwave, 8 hours ago guns blazing accusing him of being a utopium dealer. How could you expect him to help.

Now you also knew you couldnt go to the police. As an officer you knew they would either freak out or hide it. And by hiding it you knew that would mean hiding you, IE killing you and sweeping it under the rug. They might turn you over to some higher part of the government. The type that does a bunch of invasive and usually very painful experiments and research.

You could just drop it. Leave town and change your name. But then again that brings up the issue of how will you eat? Murder is just too horrible an option for you. Grave robbing coukd be viable but half decomposed chemically drowned brain is almost as bad as the moral stand still of murder.

Deciding on your course of action you breezed to your closet, choosing a simple black hoodie, dark jeans and boots, and a ball cap to hide your snowy hair to wear. You grabbed a glock 19. Not the gun you had when you went to visit Blaine in the first place. That one was gone, probably in Debeers' personal stash now. This time though if he pulled so would you.

Without a vehicle, you assumed it would no longer be parked where you left it in front of MEATchute, you were instead forced to catch a bus to the opposite side of town. The open sign was off but you could see people behind the counter. It looked like they were counting the drawer.

You beat on the glass with an open palm, hard enough for it to make a lot of noise but not hard enough to shatter the glass. The older woman from when you first came was the one to open the door. She looked like she had seen a ghost, but still somehow like she didnt care.

"Cant you read the sign? We are closed. That means you dont have to go home but you sure as shit cant stay here." She half growled.

You rolled your eyes, half willing to punch her in the face if she wanted to get cocky. "Move. Wheres Debeers?" You demanded, eyes flashing past the stumpy woman and to the counter where a large man with dark hair stood sizing you up. "You," you said. You recognized him as one of the names that gave a name that then gave you Debeers. "You work for him. I shouldnt be surprised."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Cissie, let her through." The man said. He looked like a knock off version of Patrick Warburton. "You are supposed to be dead little lady. You got lungs of steal or are you one of us?"

You scoffed, wanting to hit them all. You knew it wasnt a part of the zombieism either. These fuckers were all instrumental in your death. That enough was reason for a slight beating. "I got nothing to say to you Julian. I'm here for Blaine and I'm not leaving till I get to talk to him." You demanded, stomping up to the counter.

The man sighed as if this was one of the last things he wanted to deal with. "Well he isnt here but I'll call him. See if he wants to talk to you. Follow me." He said, gesturing to you.

Not exactly happy, but pleased you were getting what you want, you followed the man behind the counter. He took you further into the building and finally into a room off the kitchen that actually looked like a real office. The large mahogany desk was a mess with files and papers, on top of them all was the stolen file from your apartment. There was a few random art pieces.

"Wait here. Someone will be by soon." He instructed, leaving you in the room alone. Trusting that you wouldnt snoop. Normally you would but this situation was not the time. You needed help, and had already pissed off two of the three people you knew had a hand in that. Snooping through Blaine's real office would be like flipping the bird after you already spit on and slapped someone. Definitely not a good idea on your part.

It took less than 20 minutes before the door opened again and a familiar blond haired blue eyed gangster opened the door. "Ah Detective. What an unpleasant surprise. I didnt know you walked amongst the undead." He said with an air of genuine shock. "When Julian told me I really didnt believe him. You took those bullets like a mortal. What happened?"

You laid out your wrist on the desk, the marks almost completely gone. He crossed to the other side and sat down, moving the little lamp that was sitting at the corner of the table. He shone the lamp over my arm and the little pink marks showed up.

Blaine 'tsk'ed. "Was it me?" He had a fake look of disgust on his face. "It was me wasnt it. Damn it, I knew I shouldnt have blown off my manicure appointment this morning." He shook his head. "Thats why you arent dead. You gotta be starving though. Would you like a snack? Pudding? Crackers and cheese? Brains?" He questioned.

You looked at the mark on your wrist in the light, your jaw clenched a little. "No thanks I already ate, but that is part of what I would like to discus."

At that his eyes widened with actual shock. "Um, you already ate? Did you kill someone or dig up a body?" When I didnt answer he nodded knowingly. "You killed someone. Oh I bet that was a sight. Sorry about the cinderblock by the way. I didnt think you would be waking up. Im sure it wasnt the best alarm."

You scoffed, a little thankful he stopped asking about your food source. "Waking up underwater was definitely a new experience, but then again so far my whole evening has been new experiences." You told him.

"Well, allow me to formally welcome you to the land of Zombies. I'll explain everything."

#fanfic #zombies #zombie #romance #blaine #blaine debeers #blaine x reader #liv moore #olivia moore #peyton charles #ravi chakrabarti #dirty cops #cops #acab

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

predating silliness where loki joins reader on her lunch break or something and experiences midgard for the first time?? well for the first time in a normal manner at least instead of rampaging around with an alien army lmao

let the tension s l o w l y commence

part 11 of loki’s happy ending!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Loki hasn’t slept that well in nearly two centuries.

He hasn’t woken up to the sight of someone else in a hot minute either, but he groggily rubs his eyes to find your legs right in front of his face.

You’re tapping your toes, talking to someone on the other side of the desk.

Loki stifles a yawn, gingerly pressing his fingers to the knot in his neck from sleeping on the ground, catching bits and pieces of your conversation as he tries to pull himself from his sleepy daze.

Good, they’re just stopping by to say hi.

Losing interest in your gossiping, he sits up under your desk, long legs crossing underneath him and head slumping into his hands with another yawn. Gods, a shower, a bath sounds heavenly.

That’ll be next, he promises himself. I’ll have to find some way to ask.

A slight scent of something probably fried catches his attention as he patiently waits for you, and Loki’s stomach churns.

It’s been too long. Too long.

His stomach growls so loudly, he claps a hand over his mouth and prays to all the gods that your visitor didn’t hear that.

A few moments of continued chatter tell him he’s still safe.

That was extremely thoughtful of you, letting him do this. Just the chance to spend a couple hours as himself, no fake identities, no illusions, it’s rejuvenating to levels he couldn’t have imagined. He kind of forgot what it was like to not live in constant pain.

His gaze travels the length of your leg, almost cracking a smile at your fingers tapping away on your knee. You don’t seem to be completely enjoying this conversation.

You cross your ankles, uncross them, cross them again, and Loki watches. He’d like to touch you, he decides, just to let you know he’s awake, speed up your conversation. Perhaps on the knee, or the bare skin of your ankle, as taking hold of your calf may surprise you to the point of revealing him.

He settles for three quick taps of his finger against your ankle.

Your voice clips and he grins to himself as you cover it with a cough.

“So Friday, then?”

That’s a man, Loki realises. You’re talking to a man, your ankles crossing and knee bouncing and fingers tapping.

Maybe he misinterpreted your body language.

“Let me double check, I’ll let you know,” you reply, and Loki can hear your smile.

“You’ve got my number, sweetheart, just call if you need me.”

“Sounds good!”

Sweetheart.

The door clicks shut before Loki’s had a chance to decide if he’s just hungry or something about that man makes him uneasy.

“G’morning, sleepyhead.” You roll your chair away from the desk with a bright smile, getting out of the way so he can crawl out from his little cave.

Okay, it’s not the most glamorous thing he’s ever done, but…but…

Nah. It’s humiliating, one way or the other.

He should thank you, he knows he should. But you’re beaming at him as he flops into a chair, rubbing sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm, and Loki can’t help but hate the sheer idiocy he succumbed to, letting himself do that.

So he stares at you. Slumped in his seat, lips a thin, grave line, breathing shallow as it has been for the past few months, he watches you from across the desk, waiting for you to speak first.

You don’t. You just smile.

He heaves a tired sigh. “Did you get food?”

“Well, someone’s just a little ray of sunshine today,” you hum, leaning back in your chair. “I did.”

“And? May I have it?”

Your lips quirk in the most suspicious way.

“Sure.”

You bring the bags of food to your desk, taking out paper-wrapped burgers and orders of fries amidst an array of other…things, plopping a giant cup of some dark liquid in front of him along with two other glasses of something.

“Norns.” He blinks at the spread, stomach somersaulting again. “Now what if I told you I only eat fruit?”

“That’d be very rude of you,” you frown, snagging a french fry. “Not that I’d be surprised.”

A small smile cracks over his face.

“I suppose I’ll be adventurous today.” He cautiously picks up a burger, turning it over in his fingers with narrowed eyes. “What is this?”

“A burger. It’s meat, cheese, lettuce, stuff like that, between two pieces of bread.” You reach over and unwrap it from the paper—he looks about ready to eat it, paper and all. “I didn’t know what to get you, so I just kinda…got a mix of everything.”

Loki just quirks an eyebrow in acknowledgment. That’s awfully…generous, he can’t deny, but the way you watch him, that small smile on your face as you eat your fries, kills any expression of gratitude before it’s even reached his throat.

Eyes locking with yours, daring you to laugh at his state of wreck, he takes a tentative bite.

It only lasts about five seconds.

He gags, grabbing the trashcan and spitting out his entire mouthful with a cough, resurfacing to glare at you with a murderous gaze.

“That was disgusting.”

“Well I’m not exactly rolling in cash,” you huff, throwing a fry at him, “so sorry I couldn’t get you a gourmet burger, fast food is gonna have to do, okay??”

He’s still coughing, definitely over exaggerating, and he fumbles for the drink you set in front of him—anything to get that taste of pure grease out of his mouth.

The spit take that follows might be the last straw.

“LOKI, WHAT THE F—”

“What in all Hel is that??” He cries, dropping the cup back on your desk and clutching a hand to his throat. “Poison—that’s low, mortal, just turn me in—”

“It’s fucking soda!” Scrambling for napkins, you swipe furiously at your chest and laptop, now nicely sprinkled with soda from his spitting. “You’re disgusting, god, you spit all over me!”

“You’re trying to poison me!”

“It’s a drink!!”

Nails scratching at his throat, he lifts his chin and points a furious finger. “It’s stabbing my throat,” he rasps, “ripping my throat, it-it hurts—”

“It’s called carbonation, you idiot.” Your forehead falls to your palm. “Just drink some water, you’ll be fine.”

You hand him a bottle of water which he promptly rips from your hand and gulps, head back and throat moving furiously until the entire bottle is gone. In a matter of seconds.

“Good lord.” You shake your head with a frown, going back to your fries. “Didn’t realise you were this uncultured. Considering you wanted to rule us ‘n everything.”

“I didn’t exactly come here for the food.” He coughs a couple more times and tosses the burger back on your desk. “I’m not eating that. And if the rest of what you brought me compares in the slightest, I suppose I’ll starve.”

“You’re so, so fucking rude.” Flopping back in your chair, you swallow your mouthful of fries and cross your arms. “I actually went out of my way to get you all this, get you things you could try, get you enough—”

“Ah, you changed your shirt.”

Mouth still half-open after being so rudely interrupted, you glance down and nod. “Yeah? And?? I wasn’t finished—”

“So you left me in here, asleep and unmonitored?” He’s paused, eyebrow raised as he stares at you. “That’s incredibly stupid of you.”

“You were asleep for nearly three days. I wasn’t gonna wait around for you, you’re not that special.”

He blinks.

“Excuse me?”

“All-knowing gods, my ass,” you mutter sarcastically. “Yeah, you’ve been asleep under my desk for three days. I thought you died, honestly. But then you were still breathing so I figured if you were sleeping that much, you’d probably need just as much food, y’know?”

Loki blinks again, mind racing to catch up. It’d only been a few hours, hadn’t it?

You’re not lying—he checked.

“…you turned me in, I presume? Just let me finish my nap, is that some form of sympathy?”

“I actually didn’t,” you scowl. “But now I’m reconsidering.”

Silent again, he stares at the crowded desk.

That is a lot of food.

His stomach churns again, grumbling loudly at the neglect it’s been shown, and this time you hear it—and you can’t help but give a loud snort of laughter.

“Would it appease his royal highness if I didn’t watch you eat food of this revolting class?”

His staring continues—or maybe it’s more of a wistful gaze, considering the obvious struggle at play between his hunger and sense of morality.

“Just eat the fucking burger,” you groan, grabbing the burger with a bite taken out of it, leaning over your desk, and shoving the burger to his mouth.

His eyes go wider than saucers.

“HOW DARE Y—mmph—”

Taking advantage of his open and raging mouth, you shove as much of the burger into his mouth before he has a chance to protest.

Isn’t he just so charming, trying to yell at you through a mouthful of burger?

The mess of hair, ripped shirt, and tiny bit of mustard that smeared on his cheek aren’t doing much to help his godly image, either.

Surprisingly enough, he actually swallows the giant bite, immediately holding up a finger and glaring at you:

“As I was saying, HOW DARE Y—what are you doing??”

“You’ve got a little…y’know.” Biting back your laughter, you brush your thumb along your cheek again. “Right here. You’ve got some mustard.”

His voice falters and he angrily swipes at his face. “Once again—”

“Missed it.” You point, the mustard still stubbornly to the left of his lips. “No—no, other side.”

He wipes his face again, cheeks consistently reddening—and misses it again.

“For the love of god—” you give a quiet huff of annoyance and lean over the desk, grabbing his chin in one hand and wiping off the mustard with your thumb.

You can hear the record scratching.

Loki freezes, eyes shooting wide as you freeze, halfway over your desk with your hand hovering between the two of you.

What the HELL did you do that for?

Loki doesn’t move, just stares at you, probably imagining the exact way he is going to strangle you and make it look like an accident.

“I’m…so sorry,” you whisper, slowly backing away. “I-I don’t know why I did that, I forgot no touching, I’m so sorry…”

He carefully nods, finally breaking eye contact and scooting forward in his seat.

“It wasn’t as bad that time around,” he says icily, clearly deciding to pretend that didn’t just happen. “Did you get more of those meat sandwiches?”

“Burgers,” you breathe, shoving the bag of them towards him. “Yeah, have them all, um, anything else I can get you?”

“Water would be wonderful.”

You push one of the other cups you got towards him. “In here. The other one’s coffee, I thought you might want some caffeine…”

He flashes you a tight, anything-but-friendly smile as he unwraps his next burger. “I prefer tea.”

“How was I supposed to know that—”

“But thank you,” he interrupts, gaze dropping to his food. “Thank…you. A lot.”

That was eloquent.

And sounded ridiculously, painfully forced, which only takes away from the almost-sentiment of it all.

You just nod.

“Yup.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

feel free to send me ideas!!

if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki slowburn #loki fake dating #loki enemies to lovers #loki reader insert #pre-dating idiots

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missingartist · 4 years

Text

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter Five

I have had an awful week at work! But all your likes and comments have made me feel so much better! Please keep commenting!!!!!!!!!

Requests are open!

Geralt quickly snatched the women from Jaskier’s arms before placing the young women on what he could barely call a bed. It was a straw mattress lain against the far wall; her body was limp against him as he arranged her body carefully in an attempted to slow the bloodflow. The bottom of her blouse stained a rusty red as the blood slowly seeped from the opened wound.

‘Igni’ With the muttering of the word, a flash of light flickering on the dozen of candles around the room, washing them in a warm glow. ‘Jaskier are you just going to stand there? Grab me a cloth.’ Geralt grunted as he pressed his hand against the wound.

Jaskier pulled a drying cloth from a nearby rake and tossed it at the steely-eyed Witcher. Geralt tenderly soaked the blood with the rag, pressing it the wound to get a clear look at the offending incision. The golden eyes drank in damages. There were five claw marks that left thin veins of red against her porcelain skin, faint and light, they had started to clot, and the bleeding had all but stopped. Above the slivers of red, just above her hip, a weeping gash of blood poured from a gnarled wound. The knife had been blunt, and when the insane Tradi had lunged for her soft skin it tore and ripped. It was not a mortal wound, no organs or arteries damaged but the blood that seeped out of the slash was alarming. Cersi was across the town and even on the back of Roach there was no guarantee that she would not have bled out. Geralt could stitch her up or brand her with an iron to cease the bleed, but even with his mutant eyes, he could not see the damage inside. Even unconscious, her body was so reactive, a slight shimmer of sweat began to develop across her skin, and every muscle was tense.

‘Fuck……’ Geralt pulled back and fished a vial from his pouch.

Uncorking the bottle with his teeth, he pulled back the cloth and tentatively poured the liquid on the bleeding. Swallow was toxic, he had never used it someone who was not a Witcher, but Geralt had been a Witcher for longer then he could remember, and the times he had heard it used the people died horrible deaths, burnt from the inside out. If they did their life was not worth living, driven made or deranged. The two men watched her skin bubble and shift as the wound sealed itself smooth, no rough scar tissue, just an angry patch of red. He let her eye search the area; just a few freckles dotted across her hip. His cat's eyes raced to her face looking for the signs, anything that could betray the damage on the inside. Gradually her body relaxed, melted into the thin mattress, sighing in contentment.

It was only now that he let his eyes scanned her body. The clothes she wore where ill-fitting, hiding a feast beneath. In the commotion, her skirt had racked up bunching around her waist ,revealing smooth shapely legs, thick and chunky thighs. They travelled up under her potato sack skirt to a work of art, her waist was narrow, flaring out to round plush hips. Travelling up her breast stood firm, parting to the side as she lay on her back. Most women wore corsets, but her figure stood proud and firm, unaided but the amour like clothing. Her neck was graceful, swan-like, leading up to her face, her curls swirled around her like a hallow, the light highlighting the gold of her curls. Her face was peaceful but dark circle marred underneath her eyes, and her cheekbones looked hallow, dehydrated. Her beauty was mesmerising but confusing. Geralt was thankful but concerned. He wanted her to survive but he knew there was something, something strange. Nothing he had ever heard of could endure a Witcher’s potion. A less … no it wasn’t possible

‘Hmmm,’ Geralt hummed as he picked up a moth-eaten blanket and draped it over her exposed body.

Jaskier stared over at his friend. The white-haired man was staring down, pensive at the women on the floor. Witcher with a heart he mused. It would be a great song. Or bedding the grateful damsel in distress whom he rescues from the clutches of death. Even better. Jaskier turned his eyes to the man on the floor. The mage, Tradi, he was cold and death, throat cut open, twisted in anger. In his hand there was a heavily ornated journal, it was a deep purple with what looked like peals sown onto the cover and gold thread stitched into the spine of it.

‘Well, what do we have here… he won't be needing this anymore. I could rebind it and put my song it …..I could even have is published. The Tales of the Witcher and the Bard….no the Bard and the Witcher.’ Jaskier pondered as struggled to release the book from the death grip of the corpse. Brandishing in the air in success.

The scent of the pages hitting the air cause Geralt's nose to twitch. A mixture of sour milk, pig and decay. Human Skin. Without a thought, Geralt snatched the book from the victorious Jaskier, inhaling deeply he could smell it now. Some of the pages where old, 30 years at least, and somewhere new, recent, days old. Probably from the victims of the Griffin. A Mage would never use human skin; only the most despised magic was held on human skin. Old magic, evil magic that even Elves feared, not even using it when the humans massacred them.

‘Geralt…. You get the join. A bard cannot live on his art alone.’ Jaskier whined, attempting to reach up to The Witcher.

‘Human skin possess bad magic… igni.’ Geralt growled as the book remained unheard against the fire smell. ‘This must be destroyed properly, in a purifying ritual.’ Geralt bite out as he tucked it into his bag, his eyes training in on the girl.

Jaskier eyes followed Geralt’s. The girls stirred slightly and curled into the mattress; a pained hiss escaped her lips as she grimaced, brow furrowed. The bard's eyes soften, she was a beautiful thing, it surprised him that she would be working in a tavern which was little more than a high-class brothel. Adva looked almost childlike, innocent and sheepish, dressing in rags, making her look frumpy and older. She could be little more than 20, an orphan probably or sold to the tavern as a child, didn’t know anything better and properly wouldn't leave till she died, either and the hands of disease or a patron. But then again he had seen her throw a gigantic ball of water at the monster, powerful enough to stun to allow Geralt to strike the fatal blow.

‘Will she be okay?’ the bard asked.

‘Hmmm’ was the only reply that Geralt gave. As he wiped her brow of a kitchen towel found on the back of one a chair. The white-haired man crammed his bulking frame a ragged chaired she had in front of a large desk. The chair was possibly the nicest thing in the room, soft and padded; it looked like it had once belonged to a wealthy merchant, woven with vivid colours and threads. Settled down into the chair, the thin, timid legs at the bottom snapped causing the base of the armchair to hit the floor with a thud.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the glistening leather of a burgundy book, a journal that was too elegant for a mere kitchen maiden. Pinching it from the desk he examined it at the page it fell open. The words were curvey and neat; one letter flowed to the next if they could be called letters. It was not a language he had ever seen- not Elvish or the Elder language.

‘Fuck’ Geralt growled, wiggling himself into a comfy position and stretching his long let out in front of him as he settled his eyes on the women in front of him, the book lying in his lap.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx When the sun was finally up in the sky, Geralt left the woman sleeping, watched over by Jaskier. Geralt was certain that the Swallow he had used would take to ill effects of her, she slept peaceful and undisturbed even though Jaskier strummed his lute and practised and pondered his new hit. The tavern was now alive with the sound of life; they squeaked and squealed about the sounds of last nights battle. When the sun was high in the sky Geralt, with sword in hand, struck the head of the Griffin ignoring the cheer from the crowd that gathered at the back of the Tavern. The Witcher made his way through the town; no one bothered him, the people cleared a path, the sight of him bloody and carrying a severed head was enough. The guards at Lord Brightwater’s manor stepped aside without questioning him.

The Witcher found the way to his meeting room with ease. The scent of him was robust, old parchment and cheese, but it was mixed with another smell, the smell of Cersi, roses and honey, a sickly sweet smell that lingered in the air, temping. A smell mixed with the salt fragrances of sex. Sure enough, Cersi sat prompt up against a vase stand, looking at the greying lord as he busied himself with the accounts in the same dress as yesterday.

‘I have slain the beast.’ Geralt uttered, dropping the severed head of the mahogany desk, causing the Lord to look up from his papers.

‘A Griffin…you were right.’ Cersi grinned, cat-like as she moved to examine the head.

‘Interesting… it looks like the creature was hit with a water blast of some kind….whats wrong with its eyes’ the mage questioned as she examined it.

‘The price has doubled.’

‘I paid you to dispatch the beast, and you did. I will pay you the agreed amount.’ Lord Fagen gritted out, pulling open a drawer and tossing a large coin purse at the monster hunter, who caught it with ease.

‘Wasn’t as ssimplyas that, the best was being enchanted, controlled to stalk the people of Brightwater. I had to dispatch him to.’

‘Tradi’ Cersi winched as she sat upon the edge of the Lord's desk.

‘You knew?’ Geralt snarled at the sorceress.

‘I had my suspicions. Tradi was alleged to have been dabbling in dark magic, experimenting on his King’s people. The guild could never prove aanything, but it was enough to get removed from court. A mage without a king such a sad thing.’ Cersi shrugged.

‘Didn’t think to mention it before?’ Geralt nostril flared, as he looked at his friend with angry.

‘I didn’t have a lot to go on. Besides, I was quietly confident in you.’ Cersi spoke sweetly, playing with her blonde hair.

‘Hmmm. Doesn’t change a thing, the price has doubled.’

‘It is out of the question. The town has been damaged far too much. We will need every coin to rebuild, better and stronger.’ The lord bit back, acidly.

‘Now now, Fagen. Honest pay for honest work. Maybe we can bargain with Geralt. He is reasonable after all. There must be something that he wants. Or perhaps someone.’ Her tone was dripped in honey, but the inference was there, steel-edged and obvious.

There was silence between the three as they watched each other, ‘Tradi attached Adva. Wanted something from her. I will forgo the payment for Tradi for her. Her… powers would be helpful on the road.’ The Lord stood and slammed his fists onto the desk, enough for the whole room to vibrate at the force. ‘I will not allow you to take here anywhere. She is safe here. Take your money and go Witcher. Before I call the guard.’

Geralt grunted out violent puffs of hot breath. Something primal within him howled at this man; a poncy lord thought he had the power to separate him from Adva. He was never one to be told what to do, especially when it came to women. The magic he felt between them was intense; he didn’t believe it was a soulbond, things were myths, told to doe-eyed girls to give them hope in the bleak futures married to ignorant or foolish men. But he would be damned if he let Adva stay here. The two men inched closer together, centimetre by centimetre

‘Boys enough. Fagen…Love let me deal with this. I know what needs to be done. Go?’ There was an edge in her voice; it was forceful and almost harsh. The Lord slowly left, not before casting the evil eye at him . Awww the things a man in love will do. Geralt mused as the man slammed the door shut.

‘Sleeping with a Lord now? Ordering the poor man out of his own chambers. Hmm,’ Geralt folded his arms, looking down at the women.

‘Fagen is… protective. He was the one who found her abandoned all those years ago. He never had children; I suppose he looks over her in a way.’ Cersi sighed as she stood, brushing her hands over her crumpled dress that had probably spend the last night on the floor, before moving to the desk and pulling out a long dry bit of parchment.

‘Then why not adopt her? Why send her to apprentice at Tradi for him to abuse or to work in a whorehouse.’ Geralt snapped.

‘It is complicated Geralt…Sending her to Tradi was a mistake, caused this nasty situation. You need to take her away… far away. Take this’ Cersi spoke with a tired voice.

The parchment in her hand was a certificate, a certificate of service. Such documents were standard among orphans, women placed in service till they where 25, past from one owner to another. Only when the orphan married or was old enough was the person free, that was why most only lived very short terrible lives.

‘You want to help?’ Geralt was no fool, Cersi was a excellent mage but not without her own motives.

‘I don’t think Brightwater is the right place for Adva anymore. She seems to have outgrown it. You can buy Adva from Vivian, 500 coins should do it, and the young sweetling begins the new life together with an honourable Witcher. How long are you going to deny your bond? Take her with you there isn’t a force in the world that can keep you apart now.’

‘I don’t think Adva would be very happy to find her being sold from one person to the next. I don’t think she had a very good opinion of me after our first meeting. I have known you too long. What are you getting about this?’

‘Maybe not but entwined destinies will stop at nothing. Soul mate is soul mates Geralt, you know better than to mistrust fate. I am merely trying to stop your mistrust of emotions from killing you both. But heed my warning take care of her Geralt or dealing with me will be the least of your worries. Come you need to leave soon.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx A hot sensation was the first thing she felt. Searing. Groggy, Adva woke, her body ached, and the right side of her body felt tight like the skin was too small for her body. Light pooled through the narrow window and onto a vicious read stain that smears from one side of the room to the next. It looked like…blood. Tradi. God, what had he done? Anxiety rose within her, eeverythingflooded back to her. The gods the glowing-eyed Griffin, the pain, the evil look that consumed Tradi’s features, the knife, the cut. Adva’s hand flew to her side, blood-stained clothing remained but no wound no scratches. She felt the pieces of her knife from Tradi hands; she knew she collapsed. After that, she had no idea.

‘The sleeping beauty is awake; you gave us quite a scare. Never seen Geralt so worried. Watched you will the sun broke in the sky.’ The companion spoke as appeared from nowhere.

‘I…What….Thank you…’ No word would work or seemed appropriate.

‘Jaskier…humbled bard at your service.’ The brown-haired man bowed with a flourish causing her to laugh.

The bard had a kind face, that was permanently smiling, even at the town square he looked happy, approachable, warm; a contrast to his friend. Adva couldn’t help but smile at him. Sitting up she cast her eyes around her room,; bookspulled from shelves, pages torn, most she never got to read, she had been trying to learn the ccommonlanguage, it was hard and so different from what she had been taught, she had been so close, but now it seemed impossible. Casting another glance around the room she spied broken furniture, herbs and potions spilt onto every possible service, it broke her heart a little, she had very little and what she did have was precious to her. Now she had nothing. Her blues eyes fell to her desk; her book was gone, the one thing she had from before, the last thing she had of them, her family. Tradi must have taken it… but the witcher killed him — the Witcher.

The man's voice broke through her thoughts as raised voices filtered through the worm-eaten wood. An argument, she felt the vibrations of the voices rather then what they were actually saying. Jaskier seemed to hear them too, as he inched towards the door.

‘My mother always told me it was rude to eavesdrop, why don’t we go and watch. I bet Geralt is going to cause a fight, he always does. Come on.’ The singer squeaked excitedly as he broke through the door.

It all honestly it was the last thing she wanted to do, last nights events had drained her, but she wanted to know what was going on and if the Witcher had her book. Standing caused her to groan, her side was on fire, red and inflamed, whatever they used worked, skin smooth and as it was, but whatever it was was slow to heal whatever damage was on the inside. Hobbing forward, she braced herself along the wall and down the hall to the main tavern.

It was still early, and few had graced the parlour, the only ones in the room were Vivian, Nesta, Cersi and Geralt. Jaskier perched on the sidelines. Nesta wrung her hands nervously, eyes widening as she saw her, instantly rushing to her, her light irises searching her face before she hugged her close, hard.

‘You must run. Vivian is selling your service to the Witcher. Take this. It not much but all I can spare. Take it an run.’ Nesta whispered into Adva’s ear while pushing a handful of coppers into her dress. Adva pulled back, and eyes wildly followed her friend's frown. A joke surely, but the concern that burnt in Nesta’s eyes was real and true. They were as close as a sister and looked out for each other. Adva would brew potions and balms to help with overactive clients, keep Nesta healthy and pretty and Nesta would mother her, keep away unwanted advances.

‘550 is our final deal’ Cersi spat.

‘It’s a deal of 550 coins. I’ll sign her over. Pleasure, I will be happy to take her back when your bored of her…. She can be a bit of penny pure pants, it attractive in a way but get a little boring after a while.’ Vivian purred and she strolled away, jiggling a coin purse as she went.

‘Cersi! How could you?’ Adva gasped, backing towards the door, wincing as her tight skinned pulled around her healing skin.

‘Adva my dear… I didn’t want you to find out like this. Please understand it isn’t what you think… it will become clear soon.’ Cersi walked over pleading, pulling on of her hand into her own. Snatching her hand away and stood back. Adva couldn’t help it, but she felt disgusted, she knew what happened to most of the orphans who were sold, they would go from one person to the next, most didn’t make it to 25. Slavery was what it was, just because she had no family, she had survived Tradi and she didn’t want to know what was worse than him.

‘Don’t touch me. I thought you were my friend… I am not going anywhere with anyone.’ Adva hissed.

‘I am sorry. I hope you will not hate me for this. Take this with you. It will help you understand. Please forgive me.’ Cersi pleaded, pushing a book into Adva’s hands.

Adva stared at the book for what felt like ages. The Witcher- A history. Turning her head up again she opened her mouth to speak, to argue, to plead but as soon as her eyes met Cersi’s a cloud of yellow flew out of hands, and she inhaled a lungful of bitter herbs, sour and nasty. The room spun, and her eyelids felt heavy, her feet could no longer support her body. The last thing she saw before her vision fell black were Golden orbs and the fate sound of a voice.

‘Take care of her Geralt. If not for her sake for yours.’

So what do you think???? Let me know your predictions or what you want to see!

#Geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x oc #geralt smut #geralt reader #the witcher #witcher netflix #witcher geralt

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kinkykawaiian · 4 years

Photo

She is based off of Biblical Lilith. She was inspired by other interpretations of Lilith//

Working on a detailed reference sheet.

Name: Lilith

Alias: Death Dealer, ,Mistress of Betrayal, The Red Queen

Occupation: Weapon's dealer, Black Hat’s Emissary, Leader of the Red Macabre Corporation, Also ringleader of an underground circus for villains where she torments her victims((those who betrayed her or some man that committed a crime against a woman))

Age: VERY VERY VERY OLD

Race: Succubus

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual but leans towards men more

Biography:

As far as the legend goes; she fled the garden of Eden when she refused to submit to Adam. God had sent three angels to retrieve her but they never found her. She was lost, naked and alone; searching for a place to call home and where she could be her own woman. That is when the devil manifested before her and offered her a place in the depths of hell. Promising her that she will be free to do as she pleases with no man ruling over her. And that is where she made her home and ruled over a legion. Years turned to centuries, centuries turned to millennias and millenias turned to eons that she wasted in that inferno.She evolved into the monster she is today and earned the title The deceiver of men, bows to no one and queen of the night.(The year 1860, Washington) She was summoned on earth by a mortal looking to get his rocks off with the infamous succubus and it backfired on him when she drained his life energy for sustenance; leaving nothing but a hollowed out corpse. Now, free to roam Earth, she disguised herself as a normal woman; killing several men in her wake. She was nomadic; never staying in one place and always traveling state to state; town to town and eventually she happened upon a small town in Mexico. She saw a discrete ad around the town for a masquerade for the insidious. She attended the ball expecting to find her new victim. She wore a crimson red and black Victorian dress; it's silk straps draping off her shoulder; along with black gloves and a crow mask, her hair tied back in a bun adorned with roses and black feathers. During the festivities; she met the infamous Black Hat. His face was concealed by a mask. He approached her and asked for a dance while complementing the color of her attire. The first thing she noticed was his top hat and assumed he had a high place in society; and since she has an affinity for men in power (because she wants to dominate that power) she accepted his offer. Hours passed as they spent the night dancing away; eventually the events came to an end. As they were leaving the building; Black Hat whistled to summon his steed and to Lilith's surprise it was an undead horse with it's head engulfed in teal flames. He took her by the hand and they road together through the woods in the dead of night.Upon arriving at a lake where they dismounted; he asked her who the girl behind the mask was. She removed her mask to reveal her face; her eyes shifting to their demonic form as she told him who she was and she asked the same from him and he revealed who he was(At this time he was El Charro Negro)). The two schmoozed for several hours; talking about their conquers, victims and who they walked over to get to where they are. She was also admitted that she was going to make a meal out of him; assuming that he was a mortal when they first met. He laughed in response and told her that he was about to do the same until he saw her eyes change. He was curious if she had any place to go. She told how she usually targets men and spends the night at their place before moving on to their next victim. He offered to bring her home and have her work for him in return, being impressed by the temptress of deception. She was smitten by the Eldritch demon and she took his offer. Once at his estate; she was given her own room and a set of rules to follow; to which she had a difficult time following because she'd be damned if she let a man rule over her. This caused them to butt heads but she still served him well with sacrifices and assassinating her targets effectively. Although she came close to almost dying once while trying to seduce and kill a monster hunter who was on Black Hat's trail. He had holy weapons that subdued her which he tortured her and sawed her wings off; her ear got torn and her horn chipped; he was about to slice her throat with a blessed blade but was interrupted by the leering shadow of a monstrous Black Hat who engulfed the room in darkness. Lilith had loss consciousness from the blood loss at this point and she came to back in her bed with her boss tending to her wounds. He looked annoyed and chewed her out for failing to do the job; of course this lead to an argument between the two but she receded back to laying on her side in pain; allowing Black Hat to continue bandaging her wounds. He gently stroked her hair before exiting the room calling her a"Beautiful imbecile" and told her "Not to let it happen again because the next time I just might let you die" Black Hat enjoyed her wild and wicked nature; trying to contain it would be foolish but he thrived on the conflict that came from him attempting. When he presented her a contract to finalize her employment; she question it's context. Black Hat was annoyed by this and promised her she would get anything she wished from the organization if she signed the doted line. Once she signed; he gave her anything she had asked for. She asked to start her own circus; so he gave her an underground circus to run where she would torture her victims for the insidious masses to see; along with two tigers trained to maim and eat those victims. She saved the money she earned(While also giving Black Hat his cut) she eventually branched off to start her own organized crime empire called The Red Macabre Corporation in the year of 1920. Black Hat was happy to see her flourish into a villain of her own but at the same time seething in anger because he secretly enjoyed her company(And her cooking; she would cook fresh stillborn babies for him). This made him grow even more bitter and even more strict with his future employees. Nonetheless, she went off; leaving the estate to run her own business. Now in present day; She still does business with Black Hat and they still have some kind of strong tension going on between them and it is unknown if it's hatred or sexual. But when no one else is looking; they will waltz privately in his office; reminiscing about the night they met all those years ago. They have a very antagonizing romance that comes off as contempt at first glance; so you'd have to read between the lines.

LIKES:

-Drinking in general

-The suffering of men who thought they were superior to women

-Musicals

-Old detective shows

-Singing and dancing

-She likes spicy things(perfume,foods,gum,sex)

-Guns; her favorite being her golden Berretta 92; a semi automatic pistol

-Tigers

-being the center of attention

-wine

-cherries

-cheese cake

-electro swing, jazz,heavy metal and waltz

-Dementia's illusive nature in small doses

-the rare sweet moments between her and Black Hat that happen in private

-roses

-living in the lap of luxury

-the color red

-Carnage

-Bathing in virgin blood

-the taste of human flesh

-When Black Hat sings "Vaillainous thing" to her ((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwCdShFGjwI

))

-Belly dancing(mostly to Heavy metal),waltzing or tango.

DISLIKES:

-Other people's children

-Being referred to as the Night hag

-Being asked what her age is

-Being called a sinner

-Being annoyed

-anything cold

-Glitter

-Being disrespected

-Most men

-Outdated views

-pranks

-when Black Hat melts puppies

-Being told what to wear

FUN FACTS:

-Lilith can speak several different languages; including English,Spanish and pig Latin.

-She has been summoned to the surface world before in the past a few times; Once by Mary 1 of England(in the year 1552) and helped her rein the Kingdom with an iron fist. She also taught her to bathe in virgin blood to maintain her youth. But as all deals go; she collected her dept when "Bloody Mary" met her demise. She has her soul now trapped behind mirrors; only to be summoned to scare stupid children when they repeat her name three times in a dark bathroom.

-Lilith is an excellent cook(She mostly cooks human flesh with herbs and spices)

-Lilith covers her chipped horn with a band at all times

-Black Hat has indulged in her sinful nature a few times and it usually leaves them both bitten up,bruised and bleeding. And it is their dirty little secret to keep.

-Lilith pursued Black Hat out of her own free will

-If Black Hat were to ever disappear Lilith would take his spot and rule ruthlessly and mercilessly and do away with the mortals he hired and summon a legion to take their place.

-Lilith views Black Hat as an equal; despite him viewing her beneath him. However, he does view her as the closest thing to his equal.

-Lilith left his residence before he started to brand his employees and never allowed herself to be marked by him if it wasn't by his teeth or claws.

-Black Hat and Lilith have private meetings every so often where he complains about his employees or talks about his new devices he wants to sell or they drink and reminisce about their past

-Lilith will never say it out loud but she loves Black Hat; despite all their escapades together.

-When she was living with Black Hat he would request for her to sing him to sleep when he was restless (( She would usually sing "Belong to me"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkBEnIoRqWw

))

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

Personality: She is charismatic, bold and is never afraid to refrain from sharing her thoughts. She is the embodiment of the sin lust so she is very lewd in nature. She is cruel to those outside of her inner circle and could care less about them. She is careful with who she deals with given her past experience with shady characters. She also comes across as bit of a narcissist and hogs the spotlight. She is manipulative and deceiving; leading her victims to fall into her trap. She is ruthless when dealing with victims. She also makes a lot of suggestive jokes.

Fighting Style: she is very flexible, quick and agile so she will use that to her advantage. She fights like an animal,using her horns to ram into her enemy, her clawed nails, fanged teeth and tail. Also may use her hooves to step on her enemies. Or she'll just simply unload led into you.

Powers: intense charisma and seductive power to match her good looks she uses to her advantage to manipulate unsuspecting victims,can disguise herself to look human, Manipulates dreams, Can see in the dark, Pyrotechnic, is able to make items manifest themselves in a snap of a finger, she can also walk up right walls and ceilings. She can teleport in a close proximity(She cannot teleport through dimensions however), sucking her victim's life dry to leave behind a hollowed corpse, Immortality. She also can use a spell to charm her victims(Only works with mortals) to get what she wants. Despite having these supernatural powers she is not as strong as Black Hat. She doesn't even come close to what he is capable of.

Quote: "Don't mistaken my respect for fear or you will loose it”-Lilith to BH

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

Voice Claim: Cat Pierce ((

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fv8QI0C4oCw

))

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

Theme songs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3AAOx_6jfek

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RViFRTgC2y4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9irdrSZ9Ys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afZR_1BY0CA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TFUUS_Yqew

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9sENKMK8Tk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pjOtKC_GZ9o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdFaadxJl4g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4cKIxhcTT8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yP9olT_TdM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QL60uWjiXrw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n3FLpc-5yvM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eJbxI-jZbA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkdXdVxTdNA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCXsRoyFRQE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NeaC0gPRJpM

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

Her and Black Hat's playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bql8WO0GvqI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkBEnIoRqWw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwCdShFGjwI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGti3Bzlxhw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGbe-lEDCc4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR5u9jb0PJE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4MZTU1-_bw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3ObHjm1fAE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CZ79Rpv3kNk

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UHOE50gGP30

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teuGzBoN8hE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8xTZIOAPhs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AeFLR9hKQ6Y

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISgaQcScFQE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Fp4yRDEVyM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s5rtxcogEsU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36714VSOchI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMx6FA8gmgU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRw-8tDiPQc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccY25Cb3im0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WD-7zn3WCq8

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x83P5LjpWpA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6feSJsCxIw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ts--MxmAFkQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ia--jqrELbE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WsZ2fUXbZg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzjUs5yR68o

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ow1QqW0jzTo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-s4uLaaMBc

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

Roleplay Examples:

Lilith walked into the ballroom and was instantly awestruck. The room was nearly one thousand feet long by five hundred feet wide, with the ceiling stretching up another hundred feet above her head. It made her feel smaller than an ant. The walls were a shimmering white and gold. Dozens of glittering crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the ceiling. Candles lit on each pillar; which illuminated the ballroom’s occupants. A group of five women in front of her all had flowing, elegant ball gowns that were frilly but pale. She could hear their low chatter as they talked among themselves and laughed, seemingly completely at ease in this festive atmosphere. Lilith's crimson and black gown made her stick out like a swore thumb. She wondered through the masked crowed aimlessly as she discreetly scouted for her next victim.

Lilith grinned widely as the stranger in black accepted her offer. She rested her free hand on his shoulder before they began to glide through the ballroom floor together; the sounds of violins filled the air. They stood out in their dark attire as they waltzed through a sea of pale pastel gowns and suits. The demoness in disguise had hunger written in her eyes. One could easily mistaken that look for lust but she was actually fantasizing how she would devour this man when given the opportunity"You are an excellent dancer"She complemented her partner.

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

This interpretation of Lilith and art belong to me

Villainous belongs to Alan Ituriel

#villainous oc #villainous bh #villainous black hat #villainous #my art #art #Myart #Oc #villainous rp

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ask-q-and-picard · 5 years

Photo

Q: ... Jean-Luc, you know I’m not one to be concerned by linear time, but I can’t help noticing that it’s Monday.

Picard: Is it? I’ve lost track, truly - delicate diplomatic situations can’t be rushed, unfortunately, and their success is rather dependent upon their captain. I imagine I owe you an outing?

Q: I was beginning to think you’d never ask... as long as you’re capable?

Picard: ... Are you asking me if I’m tired?

Q: Yes, obviously, because I can fix that -

Picard: Thank you, Q, but I’m perfectly alright, though I’m perhaps more inclined than usual to do something more relaxed this time - the escape room was thoroughly enjoyable, but it’s been a trying few days.

Q: Understandable, you mortals are so easily wearied... what’ll it be then, mon capitaine? Tropical beach, perhaps? Small, ancient library no one else is currently in?

Picard: No no, nothing so inactive - I was considering wine. A tasting tour of France, with the appropriate food pairings.

Q: Will there be pastries?

Picard: ... Likely not. It tends to be more along the lines of cheese, or perchance oysters -

Q: Truly? I’ve always wanted to try an oyster, darling! Allons-y!

...

Q: So begins our whistle-stop tour - the Loire Valley! Such a quaint farmhouse, quite dull really, but I imagine the experience will be marvellous. After you, I’ll let your expertise lead the way... what are you staring at, man? It’s a vineyard, I can’t imagine you aren’t accustomed to such things -

Picard: Just... struck, Q. I don’t miss any of this, not remotely, but there’s a certain nostalgia associated with the French countryside that I can’t ever escape. I came here, after... well, doesn’t matter. I’m sure you must feel the same way whenever you’re in the Continuum.

Q: Not particularly, dear. It’s rarely ever been a home. I’m far too interesting for any of them.

Picard: ... Well, at least you have one now. That’s something, I hope?

Q: ... I have... what?

Picard: Well, wine won’t drink itself, Q - off we go! Oh, I do hope they have a decent Cabernet d’Anjou...

Q: ... You - you can’t just fail to elaborate on that, you incorrigible mortal!

...

Picard: A brief overview of wine labels for your benefit, dear -

Q: Omniscient. You can’t just go around saying things you don’t mean, Jean-Luc!

Picard: I don’t say things I don’t mean, Q.

Q: ... That’s... I’m struggling to contain the explosions of every bottle in this cellar, I want you to be fully aware of that. If they shatter, it’s entirely your fault.

Picard: Do attempt to restrain yourself, won’t you? I’m fully intending to test a reasonable sample. Now, the French label their wines by region rather than by grape, as they’re unique in frequently blending varieties -

Q: Stop talking and pass me the Anjou, mon amour. I need a distraction, and quickly.

Picard: Of course. You’ll notice the rosewood sheen of a classic Valley rosé - now, if you absorb the aroma, you’ll likely note - Q! You can’t just casually chug a fine vintage!

Q: ... Ah, yes. My mistake. I blame you, of course. Aubergine caviar on pain rustique?

Picard: An excellent pairing, yes, but are you alright?

Q: ... Can we take this damned thing back, Jean-Luc? Ridiculous idea anyway, dates are for Sundays - the rest of the week is for... home.

Picard: ... I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.

Q: Overwhelmed? Me? Don’t be so absurd, I’m perfectly normal! As if your paltry mortal capacities could overwhelm me!

Picard: ... Mmm... well, at least bring a Muscadet, Q. It’s local, and an impeccable accompaniment to oysters -

Q: Consider it done! Lovely country this, we’ll do it again sometime I’m sure!

Picard: ... Perhaps you should bring several bottles?

Q: Darling, I’m bringing half the vineyard. Home. To ours.

Picard: ... Oh, good lord...

#non-asks #aesthetics #mini scenes #... monday night date night?#yeah my bad guys #kinda ran out of weekend and I don't normally set up a queue =(#we'll resume our regularly scheduled broadcasts this week though =)#Star Trek Episode VI: The Return of Adorable Picard #here guys #take some precious for your delayed date #it's on the house (white)#News at 11: God Too Overwhelmed To Appreciate An Excellent Vintage #Local Galactic Wine Guide Regrets His Life Decisions #we'll have more on this story as it develops Mac

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porchwood · 5 years

Text

ToastedTHG: Does Katniss (protectively) infantilize Prim?

[I may revisit this post later in light of CF and MJ, but it’s ridiculously long already and I really want to stick with THG for the moment.]

I don’t mean this as harshly as it sounds, simply that, to my way of thinking, Katniss depicts - and likely perceives - Prim, especially early on in THG, as a much younger child. I find with older siblings (my own sister and friends that have little sisters), the younger sibling sometimes gets “stuck” in their head at a certain age/stage, and it stands to reason that Prim would be locked in Katniss’s mind by the trauma of Mr. Everdeen’s death, Mrs. Everdeen’s neglect, and the girls’ near-death by starvation as seven-year-old “sweet tiny Prim, who cried when I cried before she even knew the reason.”

When I first started reading THG fic, it bothered me that Prim always came across as so much younger than she’s supposed to be (though I found myself doing the same with her character when I first started writing THG fic). She always seemed to be about eight years old, whether Katniss was twelve or eighteen. And then I went back to THG and really looked at how Katniss presents her:

She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother.

My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother’s body, their cheeks pressed together.

The community home would crush her like a bug.

Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. [...] Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

I reach out to Prim and she climbs on my lap, her arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, just like she did when she was a toddler.

“She’s just twelve.” (not that age twelve isn’t still childhood, but this reads to me like “She’s just seven years old...”)

The woods terrified her...

...Prim, who’s scared of her own shadow...

In this way [Rue’s] exactly the opposite of Prim, for whom adventures are an ordeal.

I’m not suggesting that any of this is negative or untrue, and as I’ll explain in just a moment, as the story goes on, Katniss paints quite a different picture of her sister between the lines. But as I revisited each of these passages (not to mention the “little duck” references on reaping day), I couldn’t help feeling that Katniss is still seeing and describing a sweet, frail, starving seven-year-old. And it’s not hard to see why.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face.

Katniss is an exemplary protective older sister - the only thing she wanted in all of this is to protect Prim :_( - and I would never find fault with her depicting Prim as a tiny frightened thing who needs shielding from the world at all times. But there’s a whole lot more to Prim that her sister eventually lets slip out (intentionally or otherwise):

Sweet tiny Prim...who brushed and plaited my mother’s hair before we left for school, who still polished my father’s shaving mirror each night because he’d hated the layer of coal dust that settles on everything in the Seam. (This is that same tiny vulnerable seven-year-old taking care of her adult mother and tending to her dead father’s memory - every single day, even while she’s starving to death! I can’t think of anything I did that consistently at age seven, let alone taking care of another person!)

On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim’s gift to me on reaping day. (As @ghtlovesthg pointed out - this means Prim must have been up before Katniss!)

“I’ll be all right, Katniss,” says Prim, clasping my face in her hands. “But you have to take care, too. You’re so fast and brave. Maybe you can win.” (Prim reassuring Katniss at the Justice Building! I’d forgotten about that one!)

...When she sells her goat cheeses at the Hob... (Prim is a businesswoman, not just a sometime-trader! Discussed a smidge more in this post.)

Prim milking her goat before school. (Again, uniquely responsible in a child, because this is an every-single-day responsibility, not something you can skip if you sleep in or rush if you’re running late. At least, not if I understand milking correctly.)

What’s funny was, Prim, who’s scared of her own shadow, stayed and helped. (With that miner’s awful leg wound)

That’s another thing about my mother and Prim. Nakedness has no effect on them, gives them no cause for embarrassment. Ironically, at this point in the Games, my little sister would be of far more use to Peeta than I am. (I’m almost 40 and I’m still squeamish about male nudity! It’s part of why I love Katniss so much! And I love Katniss’s admission of sweet, tiny, vulnerable Prim being useful to a mortally wounded Peeta.)

Something that’s only faintly nodded to (and that in CF) is that Prim has been dealing firsthand with pregnancy/labor/delivery, probably alongside her mother - I’d hazard she’s something of an apothecary apprentice at this point - but certainly with Lady, her goat. Lady was a gift for Prim’s 10th birthday (just over two years before THG begins), which means she’s been tended by Prim through at least two pregnancies, as well as the mauled shoulder. I belabored this a bit in WtM, but this also means that Prim had a small side business in goat kids, either trading them back to the Goat Man for the stud service that keeps Lady in milk, selling male kids to Rooba for meat (which would probably break Prim’s tender heart a bit), and/or selling females for a tidy sum as future dairy goats.

What’s more, if Prim hasn’t gone through menarche herself by the start of THG, she’s surely intimately aware of it (between close living quarters, limited “sanitary supplies,” and her mother’s patients). This is something else I’ve touched on (and will belabor in the near future) in the Mooniverse, but I think menstruation was both a hopeful and a terrifying thing to the women of Twelve. (On the one hand, they would certainly experience irregular/absent periods, delayed menarche, etc due to malnutrition, so the appearance of a steady cycle would mean joy for those who dearly wanted to get pregnant, but there would also be something of Katniss’s “terror as old as life itself” at the prospect of those children who might result.) We never get a chance to see this, sadly, but I’ll bet Prim had a crush (on Peeta’s oldest brother, who was crazy about her in turn). Did she share Katniss’s fear about bringing children into the cruel world she lived in, or was she looking forward to being a mother one day?

To wrap this up, for a little perspective, let’s take a quick peek at another example of a twelve-year-old female character. Say, an intelligent one with an ugly yellow cat...

(yes, I know Crookshanks comes along a smidge later, but I’m not crazy about movie!Hermione and this gif was too perfect!)

At the beginning of THG, give or take a few months, Prim is the same age as Hermione in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Please tell me this gives someone else a wee start (and I don’t mean the gif of Captain Kirk)!

Now, I’m not trying to equate these characters by any means, though there are similarities between the two (and I’ve been wondering for days now: if Prim was Hermione, Rory Hawthorne would be Ron, for so many reasons, but who would be Harry??)...The Grangers are dentists, Mrs. Everdeen is a skilled apothecary; both girls have a heritage looked down upon by some of their peers (though it’s interesting that, at least from Katniss’s perspective, Prim is universally adored rather than scorned as a “Seam brat” - and she’s got to look the tiniest bit Seam in some way!). I would hazard that Prim knows the plant book cover-to-cover at this point - and heck, Katniss even describes Prim (and their mother) as “work[ing] magic” in their healing! :)

I freely admit that Hermione had loads of advantages Prim could only dream of (relative affluence in the Muggle world, 20th-21st century conveniences, access to superior education from the get-go, not to mention real magic), but one would expect - and I think, will find - a similar emotional maturity in Prim at that age, if not more weighted to Prim's side, since she's living in a brutal post-apocalyptic dystopia where she lost her father (in terrible circumstances) at a very young age and works alongside her mother to tend sick/wounded/dying coal miners - surely a harrowing experience for even a seasoned healer.

Anyway, I found it interesting to compare the two, however briefly, and consider just how competent Prim totally is may be behind the scenes. I mean, she should have a Time-Turner by CF, at the very least. :)

#toastedthg #primrose everdeen #meta #prim #prim everdeen #thg reread

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emma-nation · 5 years

Text

Without You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 10) *For You Sequel*

Summary: Gaius is back. While coming up with a plan to take him down, the gang must deal with some new life-changing events.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @zoe6111, @kennaxval (If you want to be tagged in future chapters/fics of this pairing let me know!)

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

Lysimachus

After waking up from one his terrible nightmares, or better, flashbacks from his dark days in a Roman prison, he opened his eyes, expecting to find some comfort, relief... but the opposite side of his bed was empty. Lysimachus sighed heavily.

Boom! A loud explosion noise came from his living room, followed by a hysterical laugh.

"Ha! How do you like that, huh?!"

Priya was standing in front of his TV, focused on a VR game he had never seen before. Without her awareness, he unplugged the console.

"WHAT?!"

"I told you to stay in bed. You need to rest."

"More?" She frowned. "I've been resting for days."

"Let me check it out."

Under her shirt, he examined the bite wound on her shoulder. It had mostly healed. For the last few days, he had been often feeding Priya his own blood and her body was doing the rest, fighting off the infection successfully.

“Almost there,” he announced.

“Thank you so much, Hunter. I mean, for this story you invented to the media about the deadly infection. It worked like magic. Look at all this gifts I’ve been receiving. I was even trying this game, that will likely never come out in the stores!”

“Really?!” Lysimachus grabbed the game cover. “Come on! I’ve been waiting for this for ages! How come did you...”

Priya winked and grinned in response. For a second their eyes locked, and as the moment started to become to awkward, he changed the subject.

“By the way, you were right. Lester was next on the list.”

“Did you go to that famous strip-club he often visits?”

“Yes,” Lysimachus told. “And as you suggested, there was already this woman, set up by Gaius, ready to cause him trouble. Later, she’d take him to Gaius to finish his life. But everything is solved now and Mr. Castellanos is safe and sound in Spain.”

“Hmpfff...” Priya grunted. “You should at least let them give that perv a lesson.”

“We can deal with that later... now...” he went to his evidence board. “The Baron next?”

Priya was pensive, intrigued. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. Lysimachus, in this short time he had been in her presence, learned to not like that look.

“What’s up?” He questioned.

“Where’s Kamilah? And Amy, mostly? That chick has which every Vampire is looking for. Shouldn’t we be keeping her locked in a safe for now?”

He didn’t answer. He hadn’t spoke to Kamilah since that night at his apartment. He didn’t feel capable of fully forgiving her yet.

“Man, you can’t be pissed at you sis, the one you’ve spent your whole life seeking for revenge for... because of this,” she pointed to her shoulder, as if the bite was nothing. “She was only playing her role. I’d have probably done worse.”

“You could’ve died.”

“And so did she. She did what she had to do, Hunter...” Priya punched him on the chest, before heading for his cabinet and grabbing an early drink. “Now about our plan, should I be proceeding with our... thing tonight?”

“No way,” Lysimachus shook his head. “You’re not completely healed yet and after what he did... I’m not risking your life again.”

“Too bad,” the Fashion Designer smirked. “I’ve already gave me Clan the orders. We are doing it.”

“You will not!”

“You’re not my man, Hunter. You can’t tell me what to do. Do you think that some creepy old ass can try to kill me and get nothing in return? You should know me better at this point, you know, before we move to the next level.”

She closed the front door behind him, going for a meeting with her Clan. Lysimachus clenched his fists in rage, before falling on the couch wondering what she meant by ‘the next level’.

----------

Kamilah

"You're not thinking straight," Adrian gave her a disapproving look. "Kamilah, there's a lot that could go wrong... what if... what if she Turns Feral? Do you remember my wife, Celia?"

Of course Kamilah did. She not only supported him during his mourning time, but she helped him to gain strength to open that coffin and stake her heart. She witnessed the beautiful Celia, who she had recently watched marry Adrian in the church, to become a pile of ashes, as her monstrous body vanished. It was a scene she’d never forget.

"Being The First Vampire's descendant? I doubt it,” if the closer to the First Vampire, less chances of becoming Feral, Amy probably had a big advantage. “It's my best option at the moment, Adrian. As mortal she's weak, fragile and barely capable of protecting herself. Also, they need her alive to make use of her blood."

"What about The Council?" Adrian ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm out of The Council, remember?"

"They could use it as an excuse to kill Amy and you, for unauthorized Turnings."

"Don't worry," Kamilah walked headed to the door. "I have you, Jax and Priya in my favor."

"A-are you counting on Priya's vote?"

"I can easily make her. After all, she owes me her life."

Some time later, she was already in her car, placing everything she'd need for the ritual. She was conflicted it was true, apart from the fear of Amy becoming Feral, she also didn't want Amy to experience most of the things she did, such as watching all her loved ones to die or becoming completely numb to the world around her, but sacrificing her wasn't an option either.

"Are we ready to go?" Amy was waiting inside the penthouse, grabbing some bags.

"You tell me. Are you ready for this, Amy? Is it what you want?"

"Yes, I've never been more sure of something in my life."

"Are you aware of the risks?" Kamilah sighed deeply, affected by Adrian’s words. "That it could go wrong and..."

"It's not happening," Amy didn't let her finish. "It worked for Lily, it'll work for me too."

"And that your feelings may change. Including for me."

"Lily haven't changed."

"You can make the decision based on somebody else's experience."

"Are you trying to change my mind or what?" Amy angered.

"No," Kamilah patiently answered. "I only want you to be sure. There's no turning back."

“One thing I’m sure, I don’t wanna die in some sick ritual.”

The next moments were tense and silent. She could tell Amy was nervous, though she was determined. It wouldn't be easy for herself either, planning the less painful manner to kill her fiancée, in order for her to be reborn as Vampire.

Suddenly, Amy jumped on top of her, kissing her feverishly. Her tongue finding a way between her lips, as her fingers tangled into her long straight hair.

"If my feelings ever change... all you have to do is remind me of this. Got it?"

"Whenever you wish."

Before going to the Hamptons, she took Amy to her office, in order to discuss the last details. First, she'd need to make sure to avoid problems with The Council.

"So you're spontaneously giving up on your mortality?" She recorded on video, in case she needed later.

"Yes," Amy answered. "In order to preserve my own life."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Mine"

"Good," Kamilah turned off the camera. "We got what we need. Now..." she stopped. "How do you want me to do it?"

"Traditionally?" Amy furrowed her brows confused. "I mean, there's no other way to Turn someone, is it?"

Kamilah sighed, taking the question straight to the point.

"I mean... how do you want me to kill you?"

"Oh."

The question hit Amy a little hard, as she hadn't considered this part yet.

"No pain," she finally spoke. "How did he kill you? Drinking all your blood, wasn't it?"

Kamilah nodded in response.

"Did that hurt?"

"Not much. I only started to feel weaker, my vision went dark and..."

Speaking about it didn't make Kamilah feel so comfortable, even after all this time.

"That's how we're doing it then."

"Okay."

They both went silent again. Tension hanging in their air, until she decided to lighten the mood.

"So, what would you like to do in your last day as mortal?"

Amy finally smiled, biting her lower lip playfully.

"I have a few ideas in mind."

----------

Amy

That was one idea Amy had in mind for a while, but Kamilah being a Vampire and the CEO of such a large company, it wasn’t possible until the moment. She blindfolded her fiancée and took control of the car.

“I don’t like any of it,” Kamilah complained from the passenger seat.

“Which part?” Amy asked, loud, her voice was being muffled by the wind entering the windows. She wanted to feel it as human one last time. “Driving your car or taking you on a mysterious place?”

“Both.”

After she removed Kamilah’s blindfold, the female Vampire rolled her eyes, unable to believe the place in front of her.

“You didn’t brought me to an amusement park.”

“Of course I did. I mean, you’ve never went on a roller-coaster ride or had an ice cone. Everyone must experience these things.”

“Mortals, Amy. Not me.”

Before any more protesting, Amy took her hand and dragged her to inside the park.

“So, what would you like to try first, the Thunderbolt, the Cyclone or the Sling- Shot?”

“I don’t understand any of the things you’ve just said.”

“Those are some of the wildest rides.”

“Whatever. You pick.”

For the rest of the morning, Amy took Kamilah to her favorite rides of the park. Though the Vampire didn’t express any excitement or fear, Amy could tell she was enjoying it. Then she took her for lunch, Kamilah stared at the food in complete disgust.

“Come on,” Amy took a bite of her corn dog, “try it. You’ll like it.”

“I’m not sure I can handle the scent of grease for another minute,” Kamilah covered her nose with her hand.

“Cheese fries then?”

Kamilah rolled her eyes, hesitantly taking one fry and putting it into her mouth.

“So?” Amy asked, expectantly.

“I feel it’s going to give me a stroke.”

“Dramatic much?”

“That’s okay, I can wash the taste away from my mouth with...” she took a sip of a can of soda. “this.”

Amy laughed and observed as Kamilah discreetly took some fries off the plate, time from time, refusing to admit they were actually delicious.

“I’m afraid to ask but,” the female vampire spoke after they finished, “what’s next?”

“Dessert, of course!”

"What kind of it?”

“We have funnel cake, deep fried Oreos...”

“Do your kind honestly needs to fry everything?” Kamilah interrupted, whining.

“Or we can have ice cones,” Amy finished.

“I’d prefer this way.”

They sat down on a bench, tasting their ice cream. Amy wrapped an arm around Kamilah’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks for doing this with me. I know it’s not your favorite day ever but... it means a lot.”

Kamilah was still thoughtful and not very chatty, but the corners of her mouth curled up a little.

“I’ve had worse days before.”

“I can imagine...”

“Like when you and Lily took me to that nightclub. I’m positive that hell is somewhat close to that place.”

Amy bursted into a laugh, imagining Kamilah was about to say something dark and serious.

“Oh my god, Amy,” the vampire rolled her eyes again. “Look at you, there’s ice cream in the corners of your mouth. You’re always so classy...”

Before Amy could take a napkin to clean it, Kamilah stopped her.

“I’ll handle it,” with her thumb she wiped the corners of her mouth and then sucked it gently, before pressing her lips on Amy’s.

As the evening approached, Kamilah wanted to know if she had any more requests before they go to the Hamptons’ house.

“A classic one for every couple. A kiss on the top of the Ferris Wheel.”

“We’re not really like every couple but... of course.”

----------

Kamilah

It was early in the night when they arrived at the Hamptons' house. The mood between them was nervy again, but Kamilah wanted to keep it as normal as possible, letting Amy enjoy the last hours of her mortality in the living room while she prepared everything for the Turning ritual in one of the bedrooms.

"You've done it a thousand times," she repeated to herself. "It's just the same."

But it wasn't. Amy wasn't any mortal, she was the First Vampire's descendant, the results of her Turning experience were unknown. Adrian thought she could become a powerful being. With a pure blood, she could become so strong as Kamilah herself, or even Gaius.

"Kamilah," Amy yelled from the living room, "I'm starving. Is there any food in this house?"

Kamilah rolled her eyes, wondering if as Vampire her hunger would also be enhanced.

"I forgot about it... why don't you order some pizza?"

While the girl celebrated, she felt her stomach twist. She never had such a large amount of junk food in one day.

Everything was prepared. After dinner she'd drive Amy to the bedroom, where she'd drink a goblet of her blood. Then, Kamilah would suck her blood completely, until her death, and place her inside a coffin, where she'd remain for the next six hours while she did the last arrangements.

She hadn't told Lysimachus about their plan. She had no idea of her brother's opinion about it. As he read Wright's complete research, he could know things about Amy's gift she didn't know, and prevent her from doing a mistake.

Against her will, Kamilah dialed his number. It was turned off. It was always turned off when he was too busy with Priya.

"Screw them," Kamilah angered. "I can make it on my own."

The door bell rang. She hear Amy going to answer. It should be her pizza. In at least an hour, they'd begin the Turning ritual.

Kamilah took a deep breath and walked to the living room, trying to appear confident.

"Amy," she shouted. "You left the door unlocked again. How many times do I have to tell you we're not in your cozy little town?"

She didn't answer. She probably had a mouthful of pizza in the kitchen.

"You didn't even wait..." For her surprise, Amy wasn't in the kitchen either. "Amy?!"

Kamilah looked outside, in the lounge, in the backyard and even on the beach. Amy was nowhere to be found. A chill went down her spine.

The bell rang again. She opened the door, expecting to find her fiancée but...

"Here's your pizza. Ms. Parker, right?"

"N-No... it was a prank. Sorry."

She quickly closed the door and grabbed her car keys and cell phone, attempting to reach her brother as she drove.

She only had one destination in mind. That one small beach town in Jersey.

----------

Lysimachus

"Don't get over excited, please," Lysimachus begged to Priya through the audio plug.

"Hunter, this is my kind of place! Look at this... How couldn't I have such a morbid idea before? Mortals vs. Vampires would boost my parties!"

Somewhere near the club, he pretended he was not listening.

"Baby steps," he thought. She wouldn't suddenly change all her views and behaviors. The fact she hadn't betrayed them or that she was able to stay away from parties and orgies for almost two months was a great achievement.

"Whose idea do you think was that? It was certainly not Gaius'."

"Probably the bar owner's, after he was hypnotized."

"Okay..." she took a breath, calming herself. "What's the next step?"

"Finish watching the games, make your presence to be noticed and go to Anya, ask her to take you to her boss."

"Noted."

Lysimachus still wasn't secure about this plan. Before Gaius' attack on Priya, the findings about the ritual and his fight with Kamilah, everything was certain. Now there was a lot that could go wrong. Lives were at risk.

"If he tries anything remember our safeword. I'll be down there in a blink of an eye."

Priya grunted on the other side of the device.

"Stop with the overprotection. I can take care of myself."

"But..."

"I mean it, Hunter. One more time and I'll turn off the plug."

"Okay."

"Go take a walk, Hunter. The show is about to begin. Go get us some girl for later... Bye!"

Lysimachus ignored her words again and started driving around on his motorcycle. He momentarily turned off the device, refusing to hear Gaius' horror circus. It was too much for him.

He went to the town's library, to read some of its history. The place was highly known for its supernatural events and the presence of strange forces. Jameson should know that. No wonder he had picked that place to hide Gaius.

He turned on his cell phone, to keep himself informed of the events in New York. As The Baron refused to cooperate, he sent Jax to keep an eye on him. He and Priya had a hunch that he was Gaius' next target.

For his shock, he had about 20 missed calls, from his sister.

"Kamilah, what's wrong? I'm in Jersey and I just saw..."

"Don't move!" She yelled from the other side of the line. "I'm going there. He... He took Amy."

"How? Does he even know she's back?"

"I don't know. She mysteriously vanished from the Hamptons' house, while I was busy with... something else. Something that could save her."

Lysimachus noticed his sister and discreetly crying.

“Okay, I-I... I’ll meet you on the road.”

"Fuck," he punched the table and headed back to his initial location, near the Midnight Lounge. "Priya? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, this thing is better than I've ever imagined! After we defeat Gaius I'm calling dibs on this bar."

"Stay alert, he kidnapped Amy. Find your way down there, quick!"

"B-But and then? Am I supposed to save her?"

"Give your best show. I'll stay here listening."

----------

Amy

"Let me go, your son of a bitch," Amy screamed as Harvey threw her inside a dark room. "Traitor! Kamilah is going to kill you!"

"That's a really noisy one," the male Vampire complained as Jameson joined him. “I expect a raise after this service."

"Hello, Amy. It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Oh?! Aren't you a back-stabber son of a bitch? I always thought you were a weirdo, Jameson. It's a shame no one else could see it!"

"Can you please silence her?" Harvey begged. "If I have to hear her voice for another second, I..."

"The Master wants her perfectly intact for the proceedings."

"Again?" Amy rolled her eyes, wondering if they were part of Keaseth's cult. Of course, bringing his Maker back would bring Gaius a lot of benefits.

She couldn't believe it was happening. How did they even find out she was back?

"Of course," she remembered Jameson had a lot of mind skills, telepathy should be one of them. He was the mysterious person at the bar. "How could I be so stupid?"

Another figure entered the room, a female. She recognized her from Ahmanet Financial. That should be Anya.

"The King wants us in the main hall," she announced. "We've got something big to happen."

"But who's going to keep an eye on this thing?" Harvey asked.

"Just leave her. It's only a mortal, it’s not like she's going anywhere."

"Good point."

The three vampires closed the door, leaving her alone inside the dark room. With both of her hands and feet tied, she needed to find a way to free herself.

First, she moved her hands repeatedly, loosening the rope around her wrists. Then, she crawled on the floor where pieces from a shattered glass bottle were lying.

"I just have to..." Amy placed herself near the glass, grabbing the sharpest piece she could find and trying to rub it on the ropes repeatedly. "Come on... cut it... cut it..."

She insisted, until she was finally free. After untying her ankles, she carefully approached the door, opening it only a little bit. Gaius was having an important meeting with...

"Priya?!"

Amy watched as the Fashion Designer entered the main hall, escorted by four members of her Clan, clapping.

"Congratulations, Old Ass. Not even my twisted mind could have planned such a sick attraction. I'm impressed."

"What are you doing here?' Gaius snarled. "You were supposed to be..."

"Dead? And so were you."

"What do you want? Did you come here to defy me?"

"The opposite... I'm here to offer you a partnership. I've heard you need an army, don't you? I'm offering my Clan."

"In trade of?"

"Power. I'm done playing with losers! Do you know what Lysimachus is planning? An ambush, with his little magic tricks! As if they even worked, we're not in Hogwarts, jeez. We're Vampires. Bloodsucking creatures."

Gaius stared at her in silence for a brief moment before his eyes turned red in anger.

"I don't trust you. Remember you helped to trap me inside that sarcophagus?"

"What was I supposed to do? Adam offered me power, money... it was a win-win situation, babe."

"How do I know you're not part of the ambush? I'm aware of your liaisons with that... boy."

Amy noticed he clenched his fist in extreme rage as he spoke about Lysimachus.

"Who told you that?" Priya let out a small laugh. "Kamilah? Because... you know Kamilah isn't hypnotized at all, don’t you? She comes here, lies to you, collect info and take to The Council."

"Traitor!" Amy spoke in low voice. "Kamilah was right all along!"

"So, what do you say?" Priya started walking around Gaius in circles, as he was conflicted with the latest news. "I could be your new Queen. I have way more to offer than she does..."

Suddenly, Anya looked at her direction, noticing she was peeking through the door.

"Hey!" She yelled, coming in her direction.

Amy slammed the door closed, thinking she only had one chance to escape. She remembered some lessons Lysimachus gave her, about hunting Vampires.

As Anya entered the room, Amy stabbed her right in the chest with the sharp glass. It wasn't enough to kill her yet, but she got what she needed, her blood. Before cutting off her head and watch her become a pile of ash, she drank some of it.

"I think I'm going to puke," she thought.

By this time, she was surrounded. By Harvey, Jameson, Priya and... Gaius. It was the first time she was seeing him in person. He looked even more intimidating and evil than in her visions.

"Don't be afraid, Amy. It's not time for that..." she told herself.

"Your useless bastards!" Gaius angered. "I know I shouldn't have trusted you to capture her! I need her precious blood to make me stronger. After this, I'll gain all the powers Keaseth possessed!"

"Or not!" Amy yelled, pointing the glass to her own neck. "I've drank a lot of Anya's blood before killing her, you know? If I kill myself, it's over, isn't it? As a Vampire my blood becomes useless!"

Priya eyes went wide and she shook her head, as if she was telling her to not do that.

"One more step and I..."

From the back, Priya impaled one of Lysimachus poisoned stakes in Gaius' heart, giving her Clan members time enough to fight Harvey and Jameson.

In a flash, she grabbed Amy by the hand and took her outside the bar.

“Girl, you’re crazy as shit,” she said. “H-How could you...”

“You...” Amy answered between pants, “betrayed... us...”

“It was part of the plan! If you and Kamilah hadn’t been so stubborn about it, you’d know. Now you've ruined everything!”

“Oh. What about the part where you ratted Kamilah? Was it part of your plan with Lysimachus too?"

“Please,” Priya rolled her eyes, “he’d know eventually. I had to find a way to get into him."

Coming from the same direction, they spotted Lysimachus’ motorcycle and Kamilah’s car. Amy signaled them to stop and she entered the car, along Priya.

“Drive away, quick,” the Fashion Designer ordered. “I staked him.”

“You did what?!” Lysimachus yelled from the audio plug.

“Shit hit the fan, of course. Amy pulled a crazy move, threatening to kill herself and become a Vampire, I took the opportunity and... bang! I told you it wasn't the best moment to have a twin squabble with your sister."

“But to become a Vampire,” Kamilah was curious, “she’d have to drink one’s blood.”

Amy looked at her with puppy dog eyes. She knew Kamilah wouldn’t be happy with the news.

“Please, don’t be mad at me. I killed Anya, it was my life or hers... so...”

“Okay.” Kamilah sighed deeply. "I supposed I can find somebody else for my Marketing Department."

“That was brave of you, Amy! Did you pull the moves I taught you?” Lysimachus wanted to know.

“Hell yeah! First I stabbed her then I went straight to the neck.”

“I’m sorry to ruin the Vampire Hunter party, but where are we headed?" Kamilah interrupted. "We can’t go back to New York, Gaius will come straight at us.”

“I agree, sister. But I still need to get my weapons, we’re gonna need them more than ever.”

“I have an idea,” Priya spoke from the passenger seat. “Let me drive, Kamilah.”

----------

Kamilah

"What is this place?" Kamilah asked. "Is it yours?"

Priya drove them to a small, secluded mansion in the surroundings of New York. It seemed a good place to hide, but she still didn't trust the Fashion Designer.

"No, it was Adam's," she answered. "Sometimes he'd bring me here and we..."

"I don't need to hear that."

“I’m gonna get a drink” Priya announced. “Are you joining?”

“In a moment.”

Amy was quiet and worried, looking through the window. Kamilah embraced her from behind, offering some comfort.

"Are you alright, Amy?"

"I'll be. I'm still kinda in shock, you know? Being kidnapped, having to kill your Clan member and... seeing him in person. He's even more scary and powerful than I thought."

"And yet," Kamilah placed a soft kiss on her neck, "you fought braver than most of the Vampires that had to face him."

“I learned from the best,” Amy turned around and smiled. "What about you? How are you coping?"

"I'll only feel completely relieved when my brother is here."

A few minutes later, a car parked in front of the mansion leaving Lysimachus and a metal crate, full of combat weapons. When he entered the house, his expression was from pure fear.

"Brother, is everything okay? No one followed you, right?"

"No, I dropped my bike at a parking lot and hired a car service. But... I have terrible news."

She, Amy and Priya watched him expectantly.

"He's striking hard, guys. He has killed The Baron and taken his Clan."

"It's not such a big loss," Priya commented. "At least we don't have to worry about that pig betraying us anymore. Besides, you wiped most of his Clan members last year, remember?"

"It's not the worst part, he has also attacked the Shadow Den. Dozens of Vampires were killed."

"Oh no," Amy got alarmed. "Lily! Please, tell me she's fine."

"She, Jax and part of their group were able to escape and hide in a warehouse."

"What about Adrian?" Kamilah wanted to know. "Have you warned him?"

"Sure, he safely locked inside Raines Corporation. He offered his aid on the battle, in case we need him."

Lysimachus stopped and took a deep breath.

"It's a matter of time until he starts a mass-killing on mortals. We need to act quick."

"So, what's the plan now?" Priya asked.

"I have none yet..."

"But I do," Amy stood up from the couch. "We're doing the ritual."

Next: When Amy is willing to sacrifice herself to defeat Gaius, the gang will count on an unexpected ally... and on luck! Stay tuned!

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #priya lacroix #lysimachus

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pulaasul · 5 years

Text

Undo 6 - MCU x DCAU - Ending 2 P1 - Non-Canon Compliant

It has been years since the heroes and villains teamed up against Darkseid when people around the world randomly turned to dust, including Billy Batson’s twin sister and best friend. He’s summoned by the Wizard Shazam to undo this phenomenon.

AO3 I FFN

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Billy managed to recompose after Spider-Man had gently put him on the ground. He stood up and looked at his surroundings. The hideous monsters and even the spaceship he, as Captain Marvel, and Danvers took down crumbled into particles of dust.

Even Thanos himself, who was sitting at piece of metal with a somber expression, crumbled to dust the same way his allies did.

Billy looked at where his savior went. He was with the people donning armor in different colors: gray, blue, red and gold; sobbing as the light from the man in red and gold armor flickered on and off.

Billy can see that the man was dying.

"Be good and good will follow." Were the words Billy always lived by. These words were what his parents always said to him as a reminder to be good and help the people in need.

"Shazam!"

As lightning struck Billy's mortal form, a thunderclap following soon after, he transformed into his champion form.

"Ekat em daetsni" Billy muttered as electricity cackled around him. "Ekat em daetsni." He repeated as his eyes glowed yellow and electricity began to crackle on his eyes. "Ekat em daetsni."

An arc of electricity started to travel from Captain Marvel's chest towards the burnt hand of the dying man, Ironman, as soon as the arc connected the effect was instantaneous.

Ironman's whole body began to glow gold as his wounds and burns started to heal.

Captain Marvel on the other hand struggled to keep himself upright before succumbing to the planet's gravity but before he could even collapse, Danvers had caught him and gently set him on an upright rock.

"What did you do kid" Danvers asked Captain Marvel.

"I took his place." Captain Marvel answered with a tired grin.

"What do you mean?" Danvers narrowed her eyes as other heroes gathered around them.

"It is, what it is." Captain Marvel answered tiredly before he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Captain America was about to check on Captain Marvel when a violet ankh appeared behind Captain Marvel.

People immediately went on guard at the sudden appearance of a symbol. It was a shock that a few moments since the ankh appeared, the hero himself began to crumble.

"Wha-"

Before anyone could even question anything, Captain Marvel disappeared and the violet ankh followed suit.

-------

"We have a problem." Doctor Fate announced as the ankh that had recently disappeared appeared once more.

"Billy!" Courtney screamed in horror as the sigil on Courtney's hand began to fade. "Zatanna" She called for the sorceress' attention. "Captain Marvel's sigil is fading."

"Zatanna Zatarra make use of the spell of return." The Lord of Fate ordered. "Forcibly return Captain Marvel to this reality." He added.

"Right!" Zatanna nodded. "Nruter eht rrioraw uoy tsum, efas dna dnuos dna si a tsum!" She began to chant as she hovered and glowed in violet.

A Zatanna floated and glowed in violet hue, a violet ankh appeared behind her and yellow electricity began arcing all around the Rock of Eternity. One electrical arc made contact with the fading sigil on Courtney's arm and that contact made her scream.

"Wizard!" Mary announced her arrival via a lightning strike. "Where's my-"

Mary was cut off at the scene before her, Zatanna and Doctor Fate were casting a spell while Courtney Whitmore was screaming in terror.

"Mary!" Freddy entered the Rock of Eternity with another lightning strike. "Could you ju-"

Freddy stopped dead on his tracks, his words completely forgotten, as he witnessed what Mary was watching.

"Freddy!" Mary turned to her brother's best friend. "Whatever they're doing, it's somehow connected to Billy." She shared her assumption. "Courtney can't handle the strain."

"Right." Freddy nodded. "You're suggesting we take some of the strain off of Court and let Zatanna and Doctor Fate do their thing undisturbed."

"Exactly." Mary nodded. "Are you in?" She asked her companion.

"Of course I'm in." Freddy exclaimed. "Solomon's telling us that this is connected to what was happening in the world and that in turn is connected to Billy."

"On three?" Mary smiled.

"On three!" Freddy approved.

"One" Mary began.

"Two" Freddy followed.

"Three!" The two members of the Marvel family exclaimed in unison as they held each other's hands while their other hand reached for Courtney's shoulders.

Mary and Freddy did not scream from pain but the experience was nonetheless painful. They may have the stamina of Atlas but that does not mean they were impervious to pain.

Courtney on the other hand stopped screaming but sobbed uncontrollably as she rested from the absence of the painful event. The electric arc was still connected to her hand, but the main was nothing more than a sting unlike what she experienced earlier.

Courtney nonetheless focused on the fading sigil on her arms rather than look around. It may have been irrational but if she looked at the sigil, it may not disappear completely.

A few more moments passed and dust began to exit the violet ankh and land in front of the floating Zatanna, who was still chanting the spell of return.

"MROFER!" Doctor Fate shouted.

The dust that landed before Zatanna started to form the shape of Captain Marvel just brown. It looked like a paper statue that was half way done and was torn down to pieces.

"Billy!" Mary exclaimed as she attempted to approach her twin's champion form.

"I forbid you to take one more step further Mary Marvel." Doctor Fate ordered. "My magic, Zeus's power and Atlas' gift are the only things that's keeping him from dying."

"Billy made the ultimate sacrifice." Zatanna exclaimed." He essentially died for someone else." She added somberly.

"Please no." Courtney whispered. "Please bring him back."

"Captain Marvel is in a state of limbo, neither alive nor dead." Doctor Fate informed. "However, casting this effect unto someone else may overturn the balance of this world." He finished.

"Then I've got the perfect solution for you blokes."

"John Constantine." Doctor Fate announced.

"I've got someone who's interested in that effect." Constantine informed the group as he exited a wooden door.

"What do you want Constantine." Zatanna snarled. "Your brand of magic is not welcome in the Rock of Eternity."

"All magic comes from the Rock of Eternity love." Constantine fired back. "There's no white or black magic, there's simply magic.

"Regardless." Doctor Fate bellowed out. "What is your business here John Constantine?"

"I need the effect that's afflicting the big red cheese." The occultist answered. "I've got someone who wants to experience it firsthand."

"As a Lord of Order, your request is denied John Constantine." The sorcerer supreme declared.

"C'mon Nelson." Constantine voiced out. "You can't continue to uphold the magic that's keeping him together for all eternity." He reasoned.

"I can and I will."

"You and I both know that's bullocks mate." Constantine scoffed. "The order was thrown out of whack when people around the world started crumbling to dust." He continued. "Sure the big red cheese was able tip the scales in its neutral state, but with him returning in this state has thrown order out of balance once more." He added.

"Transferring Captain Marvel's affliction to someone else will, as you say, throw the balance out of whack more than it is." Doctor Fate sighed.

As the occultist and Lord of Order continued their back and forth regarding how the doing one thing could tip the scales out of balance, Mary and Freddy, with electricity occasionally crackling around them, tended to Courtney's exhausted form.

Zatanna on the other hand reinforced Doctor Fate's magic that was keeping the still discolored figure of Captain Marvel, as tired as she is.

"Excuse me." Freddy voiced out, causing the two male adults to look at the children. "Comparing notes regarding the morality of one deed is good and all, but could you hurry up?"

"Freddy!" Mary admonished.

"For the record, transferring what's happening to Billy wouldn't upset the balance than it already has." He added. "Constantine's merely transferring the affliction to another being rather than stop it completely."

"I see where you're going." Mary smiled.

"Is that the wisdom Solomon imparted has given you champions?" Doctor Fate questioned. "Very well." He nodded. "John Constantine, you are permitted to transfer Captain Marvel's affliction to any one you so wish."

"Now we're talking!" Constantine cheered.

Constantine's hand glowed orange as a door appeared and opened to reveal an old woman dressed in a blue gown and silver tiara inside a glass dome.

"Is that a fairy godmother?" Mary could not help but ask.

"Don't mistake her from the fairy tales you watch lass." Constantine responded. "She's a vengeful witch whose anger rivals that of Black Adam."

"How rude." The Fairy Godmother huffed.

"She was banished to hell once John Constantine." Doctor Fate commented. "Regardless, I can see why you chose her."

Constantine merely nodded as he willed the glass dome to move closer to him as he neared Captain Marvel's discolored form.

"Epekto sa iyahang kahimtang mubalhin sa laing lawas." Constantine chanted as fire began to appear on his hands.

As the occultist continued to chant the spell, the fire on his hands began to stretch itself and approached and hoisted Captain Marvel in the air. Arcs of lightning made contact with the champion's body as his color began to change from soil brown to flesh and crimson.

The fire gently set Captain Marvel's unconscious form on the floor before it made its way towards the vengeful Fairy Godmother. The fire surrounded the fairy of wishes before she crumbled to dust. As soon as her remains were settled on the floor, the fire that surrounded the glass dome faded away.

Constantine's coat and gloves also crumbled to dust as soon as the fire from his hands disappeared.

"Why's Billy not waking up?" Courtney managed to speak up.

"He's in a comatose state." Mary replied sadly.

"For all intents and purposes, Billy should have died." Freddy added.

"The infinity stones' strain on his body was too much." Mary finished.

"How are you both so calm?" Courtney asked the duo.

"It's one of the downsides of the Wisdom of Solomon." Mary answered. "We can know the harshest truths there is, including Billy's current state."

"Wizard?" Freddy called out.

"You can transport young Billy out of the Rock young champions." The Wizard replied. "Only man's medicine can cure Billy Batson now."

"I've already contacted the league." Zatanna informed. "Batman has prepared the medbay for Billy's treatment."

"Shazam!" Mary yelled as her hands were on Captain Marvel's chest.

Mary transformed back into her mortal form and forced Captain Marvel to transform back to Billy.

Freddy loaded Billy on his back as Mary helped Courtney up on her feet and proceeded to walk through the ankh that Doctor Fate had conjured, with Zatanna lagging behind.

#billy batson #captain marvel #shazam #doctor fate #Courtney Whitmore #mary bromfield #freddy freeman #zatanna zatara #john constantine #story #undo

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