#DianitexTom

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 8

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 8/?

AN: Well. It’s been a while hasn’t it.

Chapter 8

A resounding smack echoed in the enclosed space. “Start talking, young blood. I’m tired of your pathetic attempts at deception.”

Tucker spat out a mouthful of blood. “What do you mean? I’m being honest with every question you ask. I have a name,” he rolled his eyes, “my group was going somewhere, and it was in the interest of someone in the west.” He grinned, teeth a nasty red. “I think I was answering you perfectly.”

The man growled. “You know well enough that wasn’t what I wanted to know.” He stooped down and grabbed Tucker by the front of his shirt. They were close enough that Tucker could see the thin white scar that went from the top of his eyelid to the bridge of his nose. “Who. Sent. You. To. The. North.”

Tucker shrugged. “Oh, I just thought the northern part of the city was nice this time of year. I’ve got some friends up there, there’s not a war going on, I think it’s actually warmer there too? Decided to take some friends.” Scar-face sneered. “I’m not lying, really, but you must think I am.”

The guard pulled his arm back, ready to break Tucker’s nose. His companion put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t waste your time. We can get him to open up with a little magical convincing.”

Scar-face dropped him stoically. Eying Tucker, he gave him a quick kick to in the side before stalking back. Tucker, meanwhile, tried to pretend that didn’t hurt.

“Sounds like a good time.” They both gave Tucker a long look, who struggled to keep his expression easy-going. He threw them a wink. With a huff from his interrogator, the duo left him in darkness.

Tucker let his head fall back. He hurt like a bitch. Scar-face hadn’t been the least bit gentle, and his friend wasn’t to helpful in making sure Tucker didn’t get his face broken. He ran his tounge along his teeth, grimacing at the iron-y taste that came with the action. Gross. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of his teeth had gotten knocked loose. His mouth hurt, that was for sure.

How did he get into this mess? He ran a hand through his hair. Had he been too obvious? It was hard not to notice what had been going on. Things around the compound had gotten more and more shady over the past few months. Quite literally, too. As the people around him had gotten more suspicious, the atmosphere had darkened and grown heavy as though a presence was taking hold and trying to suffocate anyone that came nearby.

Had no one really noticed what was happening? Mianite wasn’t himself anymore. Shit, he wasn’t the ultra good guy people claimed he was- he’d seen a fair amount of the dirty work Mianite carried out to know that there was only a moral-grayness to his Lord- but he’d never been so blatantly… harsh? Cruel?

Tucker sighed. That wasn’t quite it. His Lord had been acting more rashly, more sporadically. Lie he hadn’t gotten enough sleep and all of his logical thinking just crashed out the window when he wasn’t looking.

And now, because he decided to say something about it to his friends, he was here. Wherever here was. Just his luck.

The only fortunate thing to happen to him today was that fact he wasn’t actually chained down inside his cell. Yeah, he was in a dingy, damp stone room, barricaded in by iron bars, but at least he could move around if he wanted to. Maybe if he fancied to do so, he could get a little change of scenery. He could change it up everyday, move from wall to wall, make them keep guessing where he was. Had it even been a day yet?

Tucker rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been down here. They hadn’t fed him yet, and he’d only just been captured around dusk. That must mean that morning, if they were going to feed him at all, hadn’t come. Hopefully. They could have at least given him a window.

His thoughts were broken by a scratching on the stone. He peered into the gloomy light. As he searched, a shape moved across his vision, small, with a long tail. Great. There was a rat in here with him.

There was a tap on his foot. “Hey, what should I do if the rats in here get frisky? I don’t think I’m ready to fight the locals yet.” Tucker squinted into the darkness. The shape moved and for a moment two beady eyes were reflected back at him. If only the light filtering from between the bars wasn’t messing with his night vision. Then he could at least be prepared for the inevitable rat attack.

“If you’re feeling threatened,” a guard called back, “we can remove them in return for information.”

Tucker rolled his eyes.

The rat however, gave a squeak. It moved closer and nosed at his foot.

“Hey there, little buddy.” Tucker tried not to squirm. With a quick jump, it scampered up his leg. Tucker shrieked, bringing his hands up to try to hit the rat off. It climbed over his hands easily.

The rat was on his chest now. It tilted its head and sniffed at his neck. He barely breathed. Seemingly satisfied, it crawled off onto the floor beside him.

“What,” Tucker muttered, “Are you trying to assert dominance or something? Jokes on you, we’re both stuck in a jail cell.

The rat opened its mouth in what seemed a mock smile. It shook itself, tail curling inward. Then it was a full grown human.

“Holy sh-” a hand clamped over his mouth. A brunette woman was leaning over him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She moved closer to whisper in his ear. “Are you Mister Tucker Boner?”

He nodded.

“I’m here to break you out.”

Tucker’s eyebrows rose. This was not what he expected a rescue mission to look like. And was the whole rat thing she just did necessary? And how was she expecting to get him out, because he wasn’t about to get out the way she got in.

She caught his incredulous look. “Don’t doubt me! I’ll have you know I’m a professional here. Now hold still.” Slowly, she moved her hand away from his mouth.

He went to open his mouth and ask what the hell she thought she was going to do, but she put a finger to her lips. His mouth closed with a clack. There wasn’t much he could do, other than sit still and listen like a good boy. Maybe he was a little bitter about his situation.

Tucker’s attention was pulled to the top of her head by something moving under her hair. Peering up at her, he found two cat-like ears nestled in her dark locks. His gaze was brought back to her face as she murmured quietly to herself, hands moving in small, soft motions.

She locked eyes with him and Tucker wheezed. His chest felt too full. His became heavy head heavy. Curling in on himself, he watched his skin shift and shrink. His bones felt like they were moving, pushing into one another and melding together. His vision swam with the sensation.

“Don’t be a baby.” Her voice was slightly higher pitched this time. “I just transformed you.”

Tucker’s ears were ringing. Joints and muscles were settling into place. His stomach turned and he suddenly had the urge to puke. He pushed it down. After a moment of everlasting discomfort, he blinked.

“First time? I guess I’ll give you a little slack for that. The first time is the worst.”

He looked over to his supposed rescuer. She had turned back into a rat, but was much bigger than before. No. He was much smaller than before.

True to her word, she had transformed him.

He took a breath. Opened his mouth. And screamed.

“Take out the rat, did you?” One guard asked, a smirk on his face. The other laughed, and patted the first on the arm. “I bet it’s taking him out.”

Just beside their feet, two rats, one clumsy and uncertain, slipped out of the cell. They crawled along the wall and fled into a large crack just near the stairwell that led to the rest of the compound. And they were gone.

[aolaiyi]

Kinda failed at the background so here is a pic without it. Thx to @syndianites for caring, happy new year and have a great holiday!

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 7

The Consequences of Your Actions

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 7/?

AN: Ah yes, after years at war with other ideas, it has triumphed! It has found it's way to a scrap of motivation, and is now being written!! Woo…

@syndcates (Look, I wrote a thing :,D)

Chapter 7

Screams. Screaming. That's all he heard. It echoed in his head, shrill and unrelenting. More screams, the same screams. It hurt, pounded at his skull, crushing it, pushing in, pushing out. It was agony.

There were hands on him, but they seemed to quake. They gripped him harder, shook harder, and he could almost feel his brain rattle in his abused skull. The held such intensity, he wondered what for.

He tried to say something, to work his jaw into movement, but it was stuck. Already open. Struggling to close it, he found the wails dull as his jaw slowly fell closed. When his lips met, it turned to a rough vibration. Was he the one screaming?

A voice could be heard now, barely over the shrieking in his mind. It was familiar, a light in the darkness of screams and pain. Why was it so dark? His eyes are open, he swears. He blinks. Nothing changes. His vision is shrouded in black, a scream pushing against his throat.

What is wrong. Why can’t he see? Why won’t the screaming stop?

A muffled cry can be heard, so close to him. Yet it seemed far. As though it were underwater. Or he was? It was strange, like he was being pulled under into something, yet he could breath fine. Feel… fine. His mind was being pulled. It must be.

A whisper scratched at his ears, “What a treat this is, to have you here.”

It grated on his nerves, wracked through his body in an unpleasant shiver. The hands on his shoulder seemed to tighten, yet they felt farther than before. Each experience was conflicting, as if he were feeling things from two separate bodies. Which one was he in?

Another cry, this time more familiar, drawing closer. But wasn’t that the same voice? Who was it? He tried to focus on it, but it went quiet once again.

“I didn’t think we’d be able to meet so fast,” the other voice came back, crawling along his skin. It made him feel sick. Like his insides were being pushed and twisted, shoved aside for this presence to get through. To get to him.

He heaved, a choked noise that was something between a scream and a retch coming from him. The voice, the good one, came back stronger this time. In some twist of irony, the more the jarring utterances came to him, the more he was pushed back into reality. Or was he pushing himself back? To escape. There must be some irony there.

A hand caught his face, gentle yet demanding. His eyes strained, trying to catch onto any piece of detail. Blackness, blackness, blackness… there must be something. Where was it?

There. He squinted harder. It seemed far away, but there… some sort of spark. He tried to reach out, but his body didn’t move. Yet, it looked as though he was getting closer.

The feeling it gave off was familiar. But it was strange to see it. Why did it feel so much like what he just left? What was the similarity? Why could he see it?

Just as he had before, he tried to get a grasp on it, his… his mind stretching out. He brushed against it, and for a moment, he felt things in double. Unlike before, when he got himself stuck in the predicament full of screaming, this happened slower. Like he was meshing into whatever was there.

‘Calm down Tom.’

His body jerked, but a strong hand-- his hand?-- kept him in place. At the same time that he could see nothing, he could see himself. What was happening?

‘Tom, I need you to relax. This won’t get better unless you relax.’

Jitters were running through him, but he could feel his shoulders slack. Or were they his? Everything was too confusing.

‘I know just about as much as you. But Tom, you are in my head. At least, I think you are. I… wasn’t exactly expecting that.’

Your head? Whose head? How?

‘Mine. Nade? The person still sitting in this room with you as you try not to scream? You look like you want to keep screaming.’

How do I get out? How do I get in my head?

‘Um, think about going back? No, wait, that could be bad. Um, stop thinking? Block everything out? I guess at some point your mind would be drawn back to you.’

You don’t sound too sure.

‘Look, I’m pulling solutions from my ass, just, just try it.’

Tom made no reply. It wouldn’t help to. He could hear himself take a shuddering breath as he worked to block things out. The room still felt painfully loud despite the growing silence. Their hearts echoed like drumbeats in the quiet, refusing to be blocked out. So he focused on the mostly steady rhythm.

It was slow, it was halfway thunderous, but it was consistent. It didn’t stop. Sounds beyond that seemed to fade. He could feel his own eyes slipping closed.  

His breathing fell in time with each thump. Slow, easy movements saw him relaxing, settling more comfortably into the floor. For a few moments, he just sat there, listening.

“Tom?” Nade’s voice rang out, this time into the stillness of the room.

He peeked his eyes open, grimacing at the brightness that came with the action. Adjusting, he opened them all the way, getting a clear view of his companion.

Blinking a few times, he muttered, “what the hell was that?”

Nade let out a breathless laugh, “Hell if I know, it was scary at shit! You just randomly started mumbling and full on screaming man. When you opened your eyes they were all glazed over, unseeing. What the hell happened with you?”

The fledgling shook his head, “I was reaching out, like you said, and I felt something? And then I could have sworn I was in Alice’s house again, but there was some person… and everything went dark. I panicked. Did I get in her head?” His eyes widened, “I got into yours didn't I?”

“Hell if I know. That what it seemed like,” Nade sighed, before continuing, “We should stop for now. If you want to do anything with that, we’ll want Dianite here.”

He took a quick sweep over Tom, noticing the exhaustion lingering behind his eyes.

“C’mon, let's get you something to eat. There might be some good stuff to drink on hand, but you might prefer Dianite instead,” Nade finished, wiggling his eyebrows.

Pushing into his feet, Tom scoffed, “You’re just jealous.”

Rolling his eyes, Nade got up after him, taking care to make sure his friend didn't collapse.

~

Tom was happily munching on some tacos, in the strangely empty room when the first of the hungry clan members pushed through the cafeteria doors. An unexpected wave of noise hits his mind, making his head ache. He groans, rubbing his hands over his face, ignoring Nade’s concerned look.

Unlike before, he doesn’t feel the pull, doesn’t seem able to touch their minds, even as them feel as though they are brushing past his, almost as close as Nade’s. All that they convey is static.  Each brush gives a murmur of thought, but no one holds the connection long enough to even notice. He wonders if this is because he isn’t trying to get into their mind.

“Hey man, you aren’t looking too good,” Nade jumps in, disturbing his inner ramblings, “Do you want to head back up to see Dianite? It may help.”

Tight lipped Tom nods, having already given up on food. The constant wave of pointless sound, the subtle touch each mind that comes near, in whatever way they could possibly draw closer, throws off his senses. At one point, he may catch a glimmer of what someone sees, only to be caught in the snippets of someone else’s conversation, to then be forced to smell from someone else’s perspective. He could only imagine that what he was experiencing was what he had already seen and taken account of, but it seemed so… different from their view. As though the way other’s perceived things was inherently different.

Nade gently grabbed Tom’s arm, ignoring his startled jerk, and carefully guided him through the growing crowd. A few sent worried glances towards them, but the majority were either to enraptured in what they were doing, or simply assumed it was a side effect of such a recent change, to garner too much worry. The confusion and dizziness in Tom’s head didn’t lighten until they had made off into a quieter hall.

Letting the fledgling settle himself for a few moments, Nade silently led him towards the stairs. Though it was likely not the best option for a dazed being, it was a better option than going towards the elevator, where not only would they find more people, they could get stuck with a few in the elevator. Besides, it would be less weird carrying Tom up the stairs to Dianite’s room than into the elevator.

Once the duo found themselves in the stairway, Nade whispered to the younger vampire, “Are you feeling better now?”

Thinking better of simply nodding his head, Tom mumbled back, “Yeah, a bit. There was just… so many minds. That sounds weird doesn’t it?” He sighs, placing a shaking hand on the railing. “It’s like, now that I seem to have exposed myself to getting into people’s minds, I can’t stop? But, for some reason, I wasn’t pulled into their minds. I just got, I don’t know, bits of what they were feeling?”

He receives a shrug from his companion, as they climb the steps. The going was slow, the ache in his head forcing Tom to take it slow, the occasional dizziness making him grimace. It was a relief for both of them once they managed to make it to Dianite’s level, in which Tom had to sheepishly smile at Nadeshot, having not brought his key with him.

The older rolled his eyes, swiftly turning to go back down the stairs, so as to get a spare one, otherwise known as: Ask Furia for his. After what was a decently long time for a what he was tasked with, Tom could hear Nade return to the stairwell, trying to be quiet as he made his way back.

“He is rather bitchy today, I would say,” Nade said upon his return, “I wonder why.”

Tom gave him a shrug, having no answer for him. Nade just took that as a cue to unlock the door, holding it open for Tom to enter. Once both made it through, he turned to lock it once more, before following Tom, who had made a hasty retreat further into the suite. He wasn’t surprised.

When he made it into the room after Tom, he watched him curl up next to Dianite, a low purr coming from him. It was likely he didn’t realise he was purring. The Lord happily draped an arm over his lover, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

“Did you have a nice time out, love?” Dianite asking cheerily, nosing into Tom’s hair.

The fledgling gave a quiet hum of confirmation, seeming as though his head no longer hurt. He did have a natural mental connection with Dianite, after all.

The Lord turned his head to look at Nade, “How are you today, Nade? I assume Tom didn’t because too much trouble?”

He shook his head, a small smile gracing his lips, “No Sire, we decided to help get some of that extra energy out by testing to check out his powers.”

The man perked up at that. “Oh, and how did that go? Has he displayed any pyrokinetic abilities yet? I don’t smell any smoke or burnt anything on him.”

Here, Nade paused.

“No, he hasn’t as of yet. Though, we did explore a bit into his special abilities.” He supplied his Sire, who gave him a raised eyebrow as a signal to continue. “We aren’t… too sure what it is. But something happened. After a rather, well, strange occurrence, in which I can tell you nothing about, since I have no idea what happened, Tom somehow managed to… get into my mind? It was strange, but we could share thoughts, and I felt as though I was sharing my senses with him. I don’t really know to what extent this goes, and have no idea what the power is.”

Dianite settles his back further into his seat, considering this. Closing his eyes, he sighs.

What a peculiar development.

“Thank you Nadeshot. Is there anything you need today, or are you good?” Dianite inquired, turning his focus back onto his older fledgling. It was his job, after all, to make sure his clan was in a good standing.

Nade blinked for a moment, before assuring, “No, I’m good My Lord. Thank you for asking though.” He smiled, admittedly happy that Dianite cared enough to ask. “I should go return Furia’s key. Tom seemed to have a bad reaction to being near a lot of people. He said something about how he could feel their minds brush against his, and it seemed to really take a lot out of him. All dizzy and dazed.”

He eyed the couple, before giving them a small smile, “Well, I leave you two for now. I bet you would like to have some nice alone time.” Sending them a wink, he strolled out, presumably to give Furia the key.

Dianite just mumbled against Tom’s hair, “Oh what am I going to do with you.”

Oh what indeed.

(AN:Sorry for the lowkey choppy end, I felt this was gonna run a little flat if I kept it going here. But hey, I updated this :D Miracles do happen. I am gonna try to get back on this better though, I feel a little bad for neglacting it DX I also wanna draw fan art for my own fic lol, but still gotta work on those art skills)

[syndianites]

How Do You Feel

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: ♖: Soulmates can feel each other’s emotions

AN: +10 points for cheesy, super bad title. I started this in, like, September. It is very much not September anymore. Also, if you don’t know how old Tom is in whichever part, don’t worry, neither did I XD Had to write it for myself at the beginning of each ~~~ break. I’m just going to say in advance, its rather long

@syndcates Remember when I said I was going to write you a soulmate fic, like, months ago? I wrote it :D And actually finished!?!?!!!

Dianite was ungracefully slumped in his seat, wings pushed out in a jumble against the back. Beyond the tight flick of his tail, he was still. His gaze was full of ire, set upon the same spot it had been hours previous. The report that came in today. It told of the growing numbers in Mianite’s army, of the aggressive prodding at their shared border. Even their sister was apprehensive of his forwardness, Ianite seeing his haughty actions from a closer perspective. Being the bearer of peace and balance, she could feel when it was disturbed, when a great injustice to it was drawing nearer. And she prepared for a war.

So this, of course, irked him. Not only was he at a low point for his following, quite a number having exceeded their lifespan, he could clearly see a massive size difference between his and his brother’s people. If Mianite was in fact gearing up for battle, the god could do nothing but attempt to recruit more soldiers, and to intensify their skills. And despite her natural preference against conflict, he worked to gain the favor of his sister, to add more allies. If he could partake in any advantage against his brother, he would.

Though he wished to oversee the training of his warriors, he relinquished the responsibility to Furia, trusting both his own skills and leadership capabilities. Similar to the standard practice of his army, the fire demon worked into finding and exploiting weaknesses, when and how to fight dirty, drilling in loyalty to both him and the kingdom, as well as those fighting beside you. Of course the adults weren’t handling it well. But he was determined to have a cohesive army above anything else, to maintain flow and to cover one another. To prevent casualties.

Except, in the middle of his thoughts, stopping him from going to assess their progress, he felt… something.

It was small, a glimmer of feeling. But it was growing. With each passing second, it developed into a fuller experience. This small glimmer became… awe, almost happiness. A giggle bubbled up in his chest, baffling in its sudden appearance. His wings fluttered, releasing their cramped position, as he made an aborted, choked off sound. For the first time in hours, he sat up. With a hand over his mouth, he waited for the feeling to settle.

But almost as suddenly as it had appeared, it took a drastic turn. The urge to bawl, to just wail out into the air burst from nothing. A prickling sensation became seated behind his eyes, moisture building up in the front. Biting his lip, he took a deep breathe, trying to calm the splurge of emotion. For all the years he had lived, none had ever came upon him so spontaneously.

Surely this wasn’t what he thought it was.

~

For millennia he had been alone. He hadn't bothered with the trifles of love, of someone within this world being the one for him. But these sudden mood changes? They had to mean something.

His tail swayed lightly as he peered over the scouting reports, set to a light hearted rhythm. These reports were awful. Yet he couldn't stop the content feeling growing in his chest. The even beating of his heart. In the face of such wretched news, he never felt more relaxed. Despite the bitter acceptance he had made many lifetimes ago, he had to face the truth. He had a soulmate.

Even in such an uplifted state he couldn't resist intrusive thoughts. Why must he be bound to the fragile emotional state of a mortal? Surely, by the end of their lifespan, he'd also be subjected to the pain of their death? But he stopped himself.

Who honestly had it worse? This being, surely only a child, was bound to the God of Chaos. Not only would their life be influenced by his base instincts towards destruction, could they not be used as a sort of bargaining chip? If someone were to discover their link, what was stopping them from taking advantage of it?

But while such ideas were of serious concern, the quirk in his lips betrayed him. Even with his family, those he loved and cherished, and those he didn't, it was as though a weight had been taken off his chest. Beyond his sons, he knew that he would never feel the fabled eternal love and devotion for another. He had been certain he'd never have the chance. But as his wings smoothed out behind him, the quirk of his lips threatening to grow, it turns out he was wrong.

In the face of looming war, it should have been frustrating. He needed to focus. His people, his soldiers, his son, they were all looking to him for guidance. But here he was, carelessly lost in thought. It even showed beyond the privacy of his home. Most soldiers were too afraid to say anything, afraid they'd turn his mood for the worse. However, Furia had no qualms against pointing out the shift in demeanor.

In fact, only a few days prior, he was called out on it.

“You know Mom,” he addressed suddenly, “You’ve been a lot less upright recently. Almost distracted. Something is up.”

��I-I’ll, um, tell you at a better time.” Having been caught off guard, that was the best he could come up with. Of course, the observant child had chosen a time when his mind had trailed off, caught up in the trickle of curiosity from the bond. And his hurried response only served to heighten Furia’s curiosity.

And for the majority of the week after that, he still struggled to keep his attention on bettering his army. They, of course, were relieved by the dulled obsession with training. While they knew they needed to be the best, the edge of the devised training sessions were starting to wear on them.

Even with his small moments of distraction, they maintained continuous efforts. But they could sleep easier, rejuvenate faster now that the intensity had rounded out. Ironically, they improved faster.

Ianite, in her rare visits, noticed almost immediately. At first, she had simply assumed he had been given better news about the upcoming confrontation. But with each sudden twitch of his wings, phantom pull at his lips, bleeding of tension from his shoulders, it was clear this wasn't the case. And while she had her suspicions, she had no clear idea as to the source of his change.

Perhaps he has finally found something to live for.

She left it alone. It had been quite some time since she had seen him move between his people with such ease, one that spoke not of discipline or command, but of familiarity. This was looking to be an improvement. As long as this kept her balance set, or even strengthened it, it could stay.

Despite the Nether God’s best efforts, he couldn't help but notice a strange sort of… attachment growing for the being. He knew so little of it; what being was it, what gender, what kingdom? But, perhaps out of the nature of their bond, he grew fonder with every passing emotion.

It was almost exhilarating to experience the first time they'd feel a new one, just the knowledge that they were growing, becoming more aware. He just hoped that this wouldn't be his downfall.

But then Mianite made the first push into his territory.

The assault was sudden, giving them barely enough warning to soften the blow. They had run the risk of losing not only a string of towns along the border, but a trading hub as well. As it was, they only lost a smaller border town. And a good chunk of his army.

But as he paced the hallway outside his office, the small space unable to contain him, he couldn’t help but let his emotions slip. His tail slashed through the air, at times catching on the tiled floor, leaving small chips. Each hint of sound was met with a swift flick of his ears, straining to hear any approaching people.

His emotions bled across the bond.

At first it was met with a strange silence, eerie when contrasted with the steady stream of noise from the other end. But then a chilling, uncomfortable feeling came back to him. The effect had his wings pulling up, feathers puffing out. He could feel himself go rigid with discomfort, the base feeling of something being so undeniably wrong.

For the first time in the young being’s life, he felt them experience fear. All the rage that had settled into his bones earlier was flushed out with shame. What good would his anger do here? Ripping through his halls like an angry drunk, getting pissy with anything that moved, what did that help?

Shaking his wings out, he let out a huff. He need to give his people the assistance they needed. So many factors played into the perils of the attack, but one stood out in particular: a notable lack of healers.  He’d need to employ the wizards to the east, with their vast magical capabilities. If his people were already determined to protect each other, those under captivity being as useless to their Mianitee enslavers as possible, then he must be as well.

As he strode off, purpose set in his gait, he tried to soothe his soulmate. He would not let them feel such wretched emotion again, especially of his doing. First, he would remove the arrogant god from his kingdom, then he’d set about keeping his a place that his people could thrive in relative peace.

After all, if he couldn’t let his people thrive, how could his soulmate thrive?

~

It took three years to drive his brother out.

Most of his kingdom suffered from the conflict. But along the border, they felt the worst of it. Towns, in fits of rage, had been pillaged and sacked, a number of residents beaten and left for dead. The roads were left in disrepair, demolished in attempt to stall relief forces from the center of the land. Families had been ripped apart, adults taken for labor and children used for tight space jobs. For a kingdom built upon justice and order, they pushed dangerously past the moral line between necessities and war crime.

For the soldiers that made it home, they carried the burden of their experience. Of seeing their brothers and sisters in arms fall around them, of the promises they made to each other. Promises that they would look after family, friends, for themselves. It was a weight they carried both with weightless determination and heavy despair. For many years to come, they would not find peace alone.

Even the wizards, so vibrant and mysterious in their power, returned home as less than what they had been. Some were eerily void of magic, their reserves depleted, the spark close to flickering out. Others were haunted by each surge of power that coursed through their veins. For them, there was no greater strength than the combined magic of your allies. But in this fashion, their very allies, each precious soul, sacrificed the last of their magic, their life force, in their final moments. These sacrifices, a blending of magic into their brethren, would lead to a generation of powerful wizards. A generation haunted by the loss of every individual.   

Ianite, naturally neutral, suffered from the conflict. Each attack pushed at her balance, clawed at her mind. She had chosen to keep her people free of the battle, but it had come to them.

In secret, she had been supplying Dianite with food and living essentials. From her perspective, Mianite was the one who had disrupted the precarious balance. But once he found out, he determined her to be a threat. With no warning, he had sent a portion of his army to devastate the border between their kingdoms, making the mistake of letting them assualt those on Ianitee land.

This was the deciding factor in their struggle. Once Ianite was pulled in, she spared no mercy to right the wrongs done against her people. Where Dianite had felt the full force of Mianite’s attacks with each conflict, Ianite had only suffered minor casualties. Despite being a goddess centered on peace and balance, her army was of lethal capabilities.

Mianite, already weakened by the attacks in his brother, stood no chance under their combined efforts.

Now, the gods focused on recovery. Though they put a number of restrictions on Mianite and his kingdom, they gave some support to his efforts, to ensure that he wouldn’t desperately return to war as a way to scrape up more money or supplies.

While Dianite’s own merchants and soldiers were reluctant to send much assistance, Ianite’s people, bound by their beliefs of peace and fairness, gave no hesitation to go to their aid. Having suffered the least amount of damage, they had labor and resources to spare.

So Dianite divided his attention between dividing resources for recovery efforts and maintaining a steady stream of advice and orders for volunteers. His biggest focus was on border towns, those ravaged the most. Not only were they key to security, but they played a role in keeping up trade. Though many didn’t boast much trading efforts, they did enjoy the profits of supplying and entertaining passing tradesmen. If he wanted to rebuild his economy, he’d need to get his trade network back into high gear.

He had assigned a group of upper class volunteers, looking to positively add to their reputation, the task of renovating the trashed roads throughout the kingdom, when he felt the familiar presence in his mind.

Over these years, he had been held together by one thing: the growing conscience of his soulmate.

When the first inkling of fear wandered across their bond, he was quick to assume the worst. War had caught up to his soulmate. But even as it grew, it was dulled by the curiosity growing around it, the awe. But in that moment, after his heart had frozen in terror, he promised to destroy whoever invokes such a feeling from his soulmate.

While he had kept his own horror away from the bond, he couldn't get rid of the nasty taste he had been given. Where most other emotions left a lingering touch, fear had invaded more of his senses, a foul, rotten taste stuck to his tongue, a cold, slimy ick on his skin, the metallic, deadly scent of battle. It was horrific.

But as the curiosity turned to glee, he felt the sensations melt off his being. The bright, warm feeling settled back into his chest. It steadied him. And while he had only sent small snippets of feeling to his tiny soul, he hoped he did the same for them.

Though that had happened almost a year prior, it had stuck with him. And though they had small, purposeful exchanges of emotion, they could hardly communicate. So as time passed, he focused on making sure they never felt his rage, his sorrow, his agony, that they never felt anything but love and acceptance.

Right now, however, he battled with those very emotions. Despite his best efforts, his kingdom was still in shambles, his people suffering and weary. Though the anger had long since dimmed down to simmering in his chest, waiting. But such trifles were unnecessary, a mere obstruction for the ongoing plans for reconstruction.

The border towns were not recovering well. Once Mianite found them to be of no service, he took it upon himself to force them into submission. The results were horrific.

Families were torn from each other, forced to slave away for the good of his brother, left to survive in hardly livable conditions.

Such brutality could not be so easily rectified. Some traumas edited long past their happenings.

Disgust strung itself into the rampant blend of emotions. What was the point of such wretched deeds? If his land had been conquered, that would have been only a reason for rebellion. His people, let alone any other human, would never take such punishments lying down. A god of justice should know better.

Even as the burning ball of raw emotion twirled in his stomach, he could feel remorse sneak in. He should be able to fix this, he should have been able to stop it. He is a god after all.

Guilt and shame worked their way in, creating a volatile mixture of feeling. It had no release. There was no outlet for it. It had nothing to destroy but himself.

As it threatened to choke him, a timid feeling pushed at his mind. It was slow, shy, but it shone bright and settled the building storm within him.

The hesitant brush along his mind was clearly his soulmate. It was a familiar presence, a comforting one. But this was different, it held a purposeful, directed force. Gently, he reached out for it. The connection seemed to sharpen, to clear up, and one though rang throughout his mind: “Don’t be sad”

And if someone, something out there, so innocently wished for him to feel better, someone who barely knew him, he wasn’t sure whether to accept the thought. But the persistence of this tiny being held strong, and he begrudgingly let himself relax. Perhaps he should be more concerned that any mortal could have this much effect on him. He wasn’t.

~

A month had passed, and there was still no definite victor. Mianite had won nothing, but Dianite had still lost many. Even Ianite had lost something, and her mental state was not… on the best track. Once he had his kingdom in a better place, helped enough people for them to stand on their own, he would see to her.

He does admit to a grim satisfaction, however, when his scouts, closer to spies, returned from surveying the condition of Mianite and his land. While Mianite was in a similar position to himself, he was left with a rather large portion of his empire encased in ice. Surprisingly, it was in a place with less people, yet holding most of the god’s army. There was no trace of the perpetrator, and few actually knew who would have such capabilities. Most assumed Dianite had done it, as Ianite had yet to be fully pulled into the war. It wasn’t, but no one needed to know who it truly was. The gods and Furia knew, and that was enough.

Beside that, he was interested to note that most of his army had returned to their original practices, with the majority remaining had only ever been apart of it. From this information, he lightly assumed the god held no intention of another attack anytime soon. Though both had guards stationed along the border towns, Dianite was more focused into rebuilding, where Mianite was looking into establishing his kingdom’s economy and reinstating many forgone practices.

His sister remained more of a mystery, though the most obvious stance she was taking was fixing the damage done by Mianite’s surprise assault. While on a smaller scale than most taken on Dianite, as it was meant more towards a diversion, many of her people were still suffering the effects of it. Beyond that, the only happenings he was aware of with her, were the basic functions of her kingdom. Trade had not faltered, their relations had not changed, and her economy remained strong.

But a gut feeling told him something was off there. He hadn’t the time to investigate, however.

~

Four years in the running and the scars of war were still slow to fade. Communications with Mianite had been reestablished, and while merchants were only a tad hesitant to restart their trading, many of their people were content to avoid the other kingdom. Border towns were beyond hesitant to reestablish contact, they mostly refused to. Few believed in the healing relationship of the gods.

Despite slow developments, all seemed to be going well, even Ianite, who came out of the years closer to herself again. (Something in the back of his head screamed that this was wrong, Ianite is not herself). But even with all this progress, nothing made him more delighted than to feel what his soulmate does. As the child seemed to grow, so did his feelings. From the more basic emotions came more complex, happiness became euphoric or lighthearted, anger became irritation or rage, hurt became humiliation or insult. Even these branched off.

It was a journey of sorts, to feel someone’s range of emotion spread over time, when he had previously been in the thick of it. He found himself encouraging the positive emotions and trying to alleviate the negative ones. In a strange twist of events, they worked with each others feelings, trying to keep the other content if nothing else.

The very nature of their bond, however, was starling. Where most soulmates only felt vague emotions until they found one another, the two of them had been experiencing some far stronger than the norm. Hell, when they directed and focused hard enough, they could even convey simple thoughts. So, to one another, they were Tom and Dia. (The god didn’t want to reveal his full name, worried about the consequences of doing so. Little Tom was confused by this, but wasn’t too keen on asking).

And now, with how everything seemed to be fixing itself, he felt peaceful. He could tell that made Tom happy, judging by the cheerfulness coming from him. The recovery efforts were working out well, and many of the families disrupted by the war have finally been stabilized. Distantly, as he was supposed to be paying attention to the weekly report in the state of the kingdom post-war, he wondered how it affected Tom’s family.

Even throughout Tom’s younger years, he’d imagine that if they’d went through any hardships, Tom would have reflected that in some sort of confusion or distress. Surely, if he’d lived in his kingdom, the family would have been at least alarmed. God forbid (hah) that he lived in Mianite’s lands. Perhaps he could live in Ianite’s? No, her kingdom, with its rather closely tied, smaller span, would all be affected by the attack. Was he outside their area of rule?

He supposed it didn't matter. One day, he was determined to find the mortal and bring him here. If it's alright with him of course. Perhaps even invite his family. As long as Tom was happy.

But one of the presenters asked him something, and his thoughts were broken off.

~

It had been a prosperous year, nearly two, when it happened. One moment, he was contently teasing Furia about something or another, the next he was doubled over, practically punched in the gut by pure panic. There, in some small hallway, he felt the worst experience of his life.

Furia was crouched beside him, and he could vaguely make out words escaping his mouth. But his head was swimming with alarm, confusion, fearfearfear. It was hard to distinguish his own thoughts in the torrent of emotion.

He was torn between focusing on Tom, trying to figure out the problem, and on Furia, the warmth of his hands set upon his shoulders, to keep himself centered. The only response he could manage was a wave of concern, trying to get it through the mass swarming between them.

Nothing new came back. Just an ongoing stream of hurt and confusion, of terror and anguish. Furia did his best to man handle him back up, trying to drag him somewhere better than the corridor. He tried to focus on the world around him, but even his vision was blurring, his mind muddled. Putting on foot before the other, he struggled to stay upright.

This was terrifying. Though he tried to fight the feeling, to keep it away from the already panicked Tom, he could feel it seep into him. On one hand, he didn't know anything in regards to what was happening to Tom. He didn’t know where he was, or how to trace the bond. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bring Tom to him or help him from here. It was as simple as he didn’t know what he looked like or who exactly he was. The entire concept was frustrating.

On the other hand, he was not used to feeling so… useless. Well, more so powerless. It had been a long time, too short of a time to his liking really, since he had felt stripped to this extent. Memories he has long repressed were the last hint of such disastrous emotion. Yet here was this mortal, who felt so very helpless in his own right, taking the god down so far. The pure force behind his emotions was enough to make Dianite feel crippled in a way, and this horrified him.

But as Furia managed to get him to his room, settling him on his bed, he was pushed farther towards the pure worry for Tom. In the short time he had come to know him, mere years to the centuries of his existence, the child had wormed far into his heart. And to lose him without even meeting him? To lose the supposed other half of his soul? He would not stand for this.

With the fiery being curled against him, trying to offer any comfort his words could not convey through the haze in his mind, he tried something different. With their bond, they could share feelings and thoughts, however vague they were. Being a god, what is to say he couldn't siphon part of his power, the energy of it, to Tom, in hopes of ending his woes? REgardless of whether the child would appropriately handle them, if it solves the problem, why not?

Trying to sort out the wave of horror pushing towards him, he made the best path in the backlogged connection. His efforts rewarded him with a steady stream pushing through the torrent of emotions, finding its way to Tom. With that, he sent one thought, pushing to keep it clear. And once it reached him, the flood in his mind ebbed, a solemn determination ringing through instead.

‘Use this power to save yourself’

At first, despite the child’s resolve, the pull on his power was hesitant, as though he wasn't certain of his actions. But then, with a jerk he was convinced Furia must have felt, it was pulled on. And somewhere far away, unknown to his distressed senses, chaos was created. It was its own storm, an experience of unstable proportions through both ends, but it was centered. Somehow contained. When Tom cut the flow of energy to his creation, both minds rang silent.

Dianite could sense more than feel Furia beside him, but now he could hear connecting phrases, words forming to convey a message. As his mind focused back on his body, he could feel the light fingers brushing through his wing, the firm hand pressed against his collar, keeping him upright. Looking into his son’s eyes, genuine concern shone up at him. “Better?” Furia helped him settle further into the bed, resting against the may pillows at its head.

He wanted to say yes, but with the echoing silence from his constant companion, he wasn’t too sure.

~

The answer was no. Abso-fucking-lutely no. While the tempest was quelled within his own mind, Tom’s was quiet, brooding. For a child full of such mischief and energy, this was more of a warning than the previous experience. And for yet another time, Diantie felt helpless.

Was he in shock? He had no way to know. Asleep? Even in his slumber aborted feelings brushed against his mind. Drugged? Surely even in a drugged stupor, some feeling would shine through. The state of unknowing was killing him slowly, and this wouldn't help Tom.

So while he outwardly remained infallible, he did his best to keep his emotions and thoughts softer, trying to convey comfort and stability. He hoped it was working. So far he received only mute emotions, too muddled with others to mean much.

But it was progress nonetheless.

This continued for days, weeks. After a month and three weeks, something changed. It was a spark, small but powerful, of hope. Beyond the minute responses of happiness he could occasionally drag from Tom, there was actual joy. Whatever it was, he was glad Tom found it.

But Dianite knew it wouldn't be that easy. Even with the reluctant growth of happiness in his soulmate, he still held onto an unshakable grief. It lingered in every blip of feeling that wandered over the bond.

Though Tom had tried to mask what he felt over the past year, from before the accident, he wasn't good at it. So even in his calmest moments, grief rested on his shoulders as an armor against the world. The more he felt it, the less he experience other things. When blocking out his despair, he rage, his hopelessness, it wasn't a bad thing. But now, when love or joy tried to sneak back into his life, it was snuffed out by the ever present grief.

As time wore on, he started to notice a change. It was less heavy on Tom’s side of the bond. Albeit begrudgingly, he seemed to take comfort in this new presence. With Dianite still streaming bits of feeling and thought to him, he was given one back, for the first time in months.

‘I like Adam’

While god chose not to read too much into that, when his first assumption was rather unlikely, he poked more at Tom.

‘Who is Adam?’

His first response was a small peek of excitement, before a splotch of frustration followed.

‘Not supposed to say’

The god raised an eyebrow, casting a curious look towards the wall, in place of his companion.

‘Oh? Well, where are you then?”

The frustration flattened out to make way for irritation.

‘Can’t tell you that either’

Dianite let out a sigh. By now the god had found himself seated in his throne once more, only having gotten out of it mere moments ago. Flicking his tail back and forth, he rested his head on his fist. If Tom’s new… friend didn’t want to be described or have his location revealed, he could be a criminal. Or, perhaps, from the war. Countless Mianitees had been outraged or ashamed of the act. Some had been publicly criticized. It was only after the war that anyone outside the kingdom heard of the internal riots and insubordination over it.

But as Furia strode into the room, nodding at the guards to let in those with an appointment, he knew he didn't have the time to ask. Straightening up, evening out his expression, he gave one last thought to Tom, before focusing in.

‘Just stay safe love’

~

Over the past few years, Dianite could say many things in his life were improving.

His kingdom had risen from the destruction and re-entered the world economy with relative ease.

The wizards that had assisted him, though not apart of his kingdom, due to their own mysterious happenings, were recovering from the traumas of magic. Quite a number of them stayed connected with their army comrades, partially as a way to cope, partially to feel more connected to society. He found that the magical population within his people had risen.

In terms of former and current soldiers, a good deal were trying to keep centered in the midst of their memories. IT was evident that many were haunted by their recollections, but most found solace in the companionship and assistance of their peers. If all went well, Dianite could better establish a system to get them readily available professional help. His people were, after all, his priority.

Ianite seemed to have gotten her kingdom in well working order, almost as though no trifles had arisen among her people. Only if one were to look closely could they seek the cracks were things had been put back together, the faint scars of what had needed to heal. And though she looked strong, Ianite herself had her faltering moments.

Mianite, despite having taken the most damage, reestablished his kingdom rather well. Though his siblings had taken it upon themselves to assist in the rebuilding, so that his people didn’t suffer, they assumed he would learn from his mistake. Really, he didn’t. Instead, it took the effort of his people, who were in favor of those who had helped them, rather than the god that had instated such disaster, to get him to a better place.

Once they had settled, they were quick to press for change. First, they had focused on removing the people currently holding office. While the disgruntled aristocrats were able to keep their land and holdings, those of ‘lesser’ status had been tasked with replacing them. Many of these people were, not surprisingly, generals or commanders in the army. However, they were picked rather carefully.

It was no secret that some of the soldiers took sick pleasure in the chaos and destruction they had caused. (It was rather ironic, for they assumedly followed the god of order and justice). Most of the selection power was given to those of lower command in the army, the simpler soldiers. The throwaways, the footmen, those who were the barrier for the more elite, or for the ranged. Whether this came about from the sheer number of them, or the peculiar disappearance of a number of higher standing army men was left to speculation.

Regardless, under the supervision of his people, Mianite worked focused on supporting his kingdom.

And Dia was focused on none other than his soulmate.

Ever since he found this mysterious ‘Adam’, he had gotten happier by the day. Exuberance popped up without warning, spots of pure mischief growing until pure joy burst from him. (Sometimes it was followed with alarm, as well as humor. He assumed he was finding trouble for his fun). It was so much better than the wretched period of emptiness and despair. And for a time, he had forgotten that Tom was allowed to feel such negativity.

Until he received another taste of bitter pain.  

Unlike his early encounters with it, this was more closely entwined with hurt, betrayal. To make it worse, it had been slow. It was a creeping sensation, one that happened as a slow realization. A slow burn that tore at his insides, making hard for him to quell his rage.

Before he could start any response, Tom hesitantly sent him a thought.

‘Adam says it's for the best. That he leaves me. That people were coming for him and he can't let them get to me.’

The god was startled by this. Not only had Tom said more than ever before, but the information he gave was enough for him to connect the dots. His soulmate had been taken in by none other than Seananners, well known black market dealer, pirate, and thief. He lived in infamy, keeping his allies under strict code to ensure safety. Many times, he has teased authorities with false information of his group.

Seananners was one of his favorite criminals.

But Tom was clearly distraught over this. Though he knew Seananners only let his people go when there was serious danger, he wanted Tom to have a safe group to be with. Too many times, kids were picked up by abusive people, those who chose to use their smaller size to their advantage. And Seananners was far from that.

He had to make sure his soulmate stayed safe.

‘Did he say anything else?’

Tom gave off mild confusion.

‘He, uh. He said… something about Optic people?’

Of course, Adam would suggest another criminal group. In all honestly, he was partially surprised that they had any relation. Due to the size of his land, they mainly operated on separate areas. Very rarely had he heard of either crossing into one another’s territory of sorts.

Though, he should know better with Nanners.

‘It’d be best for you to seek them out. Do you know your way about the kingdom?’

On another note, Tom was in fact in his land. As long as he kept his kingdom safe, he could keep Tom safe. His people, while not the samaritans Mianite had boasted of his own, were against the poor treatment of children. If all else, they would find great consequence in hurting his soulmate.

‘Yeah. Mostly. Adam said to keep to the main roads, so it should be fine?’

Dianite idly reached up to tug on a horn. Stroking his nails across the grooves, he let out a huff.

‘Be safe. I’ll do my best to help you.’

A pang of longing echoed in his chest as he felt Tom unfocus from their bond. He felt so far from him. The urge to have him safely wrapped in his arms, by his side, just… with him. It felt wrong to be without him, and even though he pushed the feeling aside with practiced ease, he knew it was there.

But as he felt Tom distance himself, his way of cutting off emotions, he could only let himself mope for a little longer. He had work to do. If he wanted to make sure Tom was safe, he need to make sure his kingdom was safe. Furia would be delighted.

~

Some days, Diantie wondered if letting Tom join the Optics was a mistake. As he peered down at the growing number of reports piled at his desk, he slumped in his chair. Today, the answer was a sure fire yes. Blowing a loose feather out of his face, he distantly watched it float to the ground. With a flick of his tail, it was push up towards the desk, to land precariously on the edge.

Groaning, he reluctantly pulled himself up, settling into a more rigid posture. The particular paper on top was of the most recent offense. It was “An Attack of Most Ridiculous Resentment” where the victim was at the tail end of a revenge crime, “for such a petty reason as one of the men having been allegedly ‘abused’ by me in the past. I swear I have no idea who he is-”. This was one of the more boggling cases, where the others were a mix of robin hood attempts and everyday mischief. To be honest, he had a hard time getting mad over it.

Collecting the papers and stacking them in a semi-organized pile, he stood from his seat. He stretched with a groan, his wings followed his moments, gently and carefully brushing against objects in the room before stopping at the walls. Pulling his wings back in with a grumble, he set upon himself to get some sleep. Furia wouldn’t have to gripe at him that way.

The trip to his room wasn’t long, but exhaustion seeped into him gleefully with every step he took. The perks of being a godly being came with boundless energy for long periods of time, gifts beyond mortal comprehension, and a mass of followers. However, it would appear such luxuries did him no good against the natural processes of his own body.

As he settled himself into the silken sheets, shifting to lay on his stomach so as to keep pressure off his wings, he sighed at the low hum of joy in the back of his mind. Despite the rampant chaos the group chose to cause, he didn’t regret leading Tom to them. The past five years have been so much better to his soulmate, his emotions so much lighter. Though he was initially wary, a mixture of anxiety and fear floating through their bond, Tom seemed quick to make friends.

It was a nice feeling, knowing that Tom was safe. The he had people that were there for him. People who were going to stay. The Optics were known, in the underground world, for always taking care of their own. They were a band of outcasts essentially, those who lost their family, who were turned away at every door. Together, all these people made a family for each other.

He could feel his eyes starting to droop, as he let himself relax, curling an arm under his pillow. With the pleasant buzz in the back of his mind, he let himself drift off. He knew Tom would be safe.

~

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon when Dianite was awoken by a sudden rush of panic. In his groggy stupor it was startling, and forgot for a moment that it might originate from the bond. For the few moments after his eyes shot open, he switched from immediately surveying his room for threats, and frantically trying to determine what he may have thought of to cause the panic.

When he felt a cold spike of terror, he snapped into wakefulness. This wasn’t him, this was Tom. Tom was in trouble. Pushing himself up, giving his wings a quick shuffle, he clenched his teeth. These were the times he wished to be able to be by Tom’s side. To defend him, to keep him out of trouble. As it was, the best he could do was get up and see if the trouble was something he could stop from his end. It likely wasn’t

Though he found himself an impressive stack of paperwork upon arriving to his office, not one sheet mentioned anything about the Optics. And with a generic name such as Tom, with no last name, he had little way of knowing whether he had been caught as a regular civilian.

He received no news concerning Tom until much later. The sun was finding it's way back down the sky, and his head was a mixture of unpleasant emotion, with the occasional stroke of defiance. It was during one such instance, where he could only assume Tom was digging himself a grave, that Furia entered his office with a rushed gait.

“They captured two Optic members,” he began quickly, “One under the codename of Nadeshot, one under the name of Syndicate.”

Furia let his breath settle, before continuing, “I told the men overseeing them that you would like to have a look at them, since you know,” he gestured towards his own head, “That lovely connection you have.”

The fiery demon had barely finished saying the last bit before Dianite was out of his seat. Carrying himself with purpose, he took long strides, Furia muttering irritatedly under his breath as he half jogged to keep up. The younger being would miss for very few things in the world. After all, he could get to meet his Mom’s soulmate.

The corridors seemed to stretch on forever, but in reality the god made it to the holding cells in mere minutes. The guards, who were casually talking amongst each other, hastily stood attention when he strut inside. He waved a hand at them before they could say anything, dismissing them. With flustered bows, they exited the room.

Waiting until their footsteps faded into the distance, he motioned for Furia to retrieve one of the men. Rolling his eyes, he found the gate keys inside a desk pushed into a corner, and approached the man dressed in white robes. He stepped out of the cell after exchanging a wary glance with his companion. There was an almost unsettling quiet through the bond.

Leading the human into the questioning chamber, a room much kinder than the interrogation chamber a floor below, he pondered what to say. Giving himself time to think, he motioned for the other to take a seat.

Deciding on his words, he calmly stated, “As I’m sure you’ve figured, my name is Dianite, though some know me by Dia.” He felt no change in emotion from his bond, so surely this man was not Tom. “I am here to ask only one question: Are you part of the Optic group?”

The man hesitated for a moment before answering, “I… yes, I am.”

With a small nod, he jerked his head towards the door, and the human hastily exited the room. Moving to stand by the doorframe, he nodded at Furia to release the other man once he had locked his most recent companion back up. A few clicks and clunks later, and he was making room for the next man to enter. Still, the bond was quiet.

Shutting the door, Dianite began in the same fashion, “I am Dianite, as you surely have figured out by now, though some know me as Dia.” He bit back an overjoyed smile as that brought a reaction through the bond. A thick shock and surprise.

“Is your name Tom?” he finished, holding his breath. At the wide eyed, disbelieving look on his companion’s face, he couldn’t stop a smile from overtaking his own face.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

(AN: First off: Sorry this took literal months to write DX. Second: This is. Seventeen. SEVENTEEN. PAGES. Third: I was editing it, but I may have given up around the seventh page since there was just so much more to go through. I hope you like it! ((Though the ending feels rushed rip)) )

[syndianites]

I’ll Watch Over You (Part 1)

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: After centuries of trying, failing, working, yearning, Dianite finally revived Tom. But something is wrong. He doesn’t remember his god, their love. He doesn’t remember anything. And in a way, that hurts just as much as losing him.

(AN: I was at work, cleaning up for the night and trying to leave aND I GET THIS IDEA. I DON’T KNOW WHY, BUT I HAD THE SUDDEN NEED TO WRITE SOME ANGST. So here we are, reading (well, i'm writing you’re reading I suppose) this fic I couldn’t not write)

Part 1/2

~

There was something unsettling about the way his eyes flickered between hollow and lively. It was as though he couldn’t quite reconcile where he was, what he was. The normally vibrant man, one who had been still for far too long, was taking in everything is a rather slow fashion. And honestly, it unnerved the god. To see his lover in such a detached state, to watch with a held breath if he would be alright this time.

Brown locked onto his, the warm that used to reside there distant, hesitant. But something was missing. The spark in his eyes, the one that grew the more they spent time together, developed into something more than follower and god, wasn’t there. Something had taken its place. Something cold. In his was the look of unfamiliarity. For the first time in hundreds of years, Dianite dreaded to hear his beloved’s voice.

His face scrunched, eyebrows drawn down, his lips poking out into a mock pout. The contours of his face, so familiar, yet strangely foreign with a mixed hue of green making up his complexion, carved themselves into a look of bafflement. Head tilted to the side, he viewed the god as for the first time. His heart ached, and Dianite wished he, too, could pray to an upper power for another outcome. But he knew. He knew that Tom did not know.

The zombie opened his mouth, teeth glinting a clean white shade, and asked him, “Who are you?”

~

Furia didn’t know what to say. When Dianite appeared from nowhere, directing him towards the room, he wasn’t quite expecting this. The god had brought him in, placed him before Tom, and hightailed it out of there. But the image of the god before he left, jaw set tight, eyes unnaturally focused on anything but the zombie, wings rigid and stiff, feathers ruffled and offset, even the way his muscles were relaxed in the slightest, it spoke volumes. Something was wrong with Tom, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Said mortal was eyeing him with mild alarm, definitely not in his normal mindset. “Holy shit,” he uttered, bringing his attention back from where Dianite fled, “Are you always on fire?” The fire demon gave a slow blink in response. Shaking his head, he retorted, “No, I’m fucking made of ice. But we’ll go with yes, to help your slow mind process.” He didn’t mean to lash out, per se, but if Tom was okay, he would have a witty comeback on the edge of his tongue.

Any second now, they would roll right into their typical banter, and Furia would have to go see what spooked the god so bad. But Tom did something extremely uncharacteristic, he backed off. “Geez, I didn’t fucking know. It was just a question.” He mumbled the last part, showing vulnerability. The fiery being had only seen him do that in two particular instances: when he wanted someone so under estimate him, or he truly felt comfortable with someone. And right now, he wasn’t really sure which applied. (Seeing as Furia knew the little shit was rather capable, the latter was the only one that happened near him. And not even that often).

Pursing his lips, he decided on one last test. “What’s your name?” He was expecting Tom to scoff, to snark about how he was barely gone that long and Furia already forgot his damn name. But he didn’t. The zombie hesitated, mouth open as though the answer was waiting, stuck in his throat. Tilting his head in consideration, he asked more than told, “…Tom?” And the demon was truly on board with is god. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to take this, what the twinge of hurt meant when he came upon the realization that Tom knew nothing.

(Furia was sure Dianite wasn’t taking this well. Not at all)

~

Tom was confused. The man that was on fire had asked a few questions before being quiet for a long pause. It was then that he was lead from the room, an oppressing silence draped over them. They ventured through tantamount hallways, a series of twists and turn that seemed tedious, before he found himself before a strange… swirling vortex. It was a peculiar purple shade, lined with nether brick. In the back of his mind, he felt this wasn’t the normal kind of… thing it was.

Enraptured by the mystical projection, he wasn’t ready for the sudden push towards it. He swiveled his head to catch a glimpse of the fire demon’s guilty face, biting his lip as he resolutely stared back at him, before his vision was overtaken by the same violet hue he had been watching.

He felt weightless, stuck between here and there, somewhere and nowhere. A sudden panic expanded in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. All he could see was a darkening purple, but he couldn’t move, his arms were locked, his legs lax, nothing made sense. His eyes sought out anything, darting around, but there was nothing. It was just him, alone, in an endless space. Opening his mouth to scream, to cry, to hear something, he was given only silence.

But then he was falling. The pressure in his chest was dropping, there but shifting. An inky color was edging into the endless scene. Small, whitish dots were speckled throughout, bringing forth a deep navy color. Finally letting in a gasp, lungs relishing the cool air against the burning need for oxygen, he could feel the pressure ebb. Now all he could see were the stars, shimmering in and out of focus.

Turning his head, he struggled to find anything below him, just a continued expanse of starry sky. Then it slowly occurred to him, as a soft shushing noise reached his ears. He was hurtling towards the ocean. Faintly, against the broad horizon, he could make out a darker shape, perhaps land? But the sliver of light peeking at the edge, bleeding into the starlit sea, gave no clue.

The water was looming before him, and he didn’t know what to do. (He vaguely recalled that it was better to enter feet first, and he could feel phantom pains in his back). Twisting in the air, he struggled to stay feet first, feeling himself lean back against his will. He barely managed to draw in a breath before he plunged in.

It was warmer than the atmosphere he had just plummeted through, and the sting in his knees added to it. With a grimace, he kicked up toward the surface, arms clawing towards the edge. He broke through, panting for breath. Searching for the land he had seen, he wadded around, shivering as the damp wetness seeping into his clothes. Finding the portion of land from earlier, he started towards it. With the stiffness in his limbs, it was going to take a while.

~

The zombie was never so happy to have goddamn sand in his shoes. (When had he put on dress shoes? And a suit? What, was he dressed for a fucking funeral?). His stupid suit was soaked through, and there was little worse than soggy socks, but damn, his arms were burning with the strain of swimming for so long. Flopping as the base of the hill, he sighed. The sun had climbed its way up the sky, beating down on his drowned figure.

Rolling his head around, trying to work out the awkward stiffness, he noticed a body laying a few feet from him. How he hadn’t noticed earlier, who knows, but their limbs were spread out away from them, but there were no drag marks showing that they had pulled themselves up there. Had they been there a while, or had they somehow washed up?

With a groan, Tom dragged himself back up, waddling over to the man (he thinks it’s a man?) and crouched back down, knees making small pops. (Seriously, what the hell had he been doing to get so stiff and tense everywhere?). Poking at the prone figure, he regarded him with a hum. His pasty white face wrinkled with an annoyed moan. A hand swiped at the offending finger, a half-hearted mumble following it.

Bored and perhaps a little mischievous, the green man shed his quite damp jacket and threw it onto the man’s head. He was gifted with a small shriek, as the lanky man struggled to remove the moist cloth. Sitting up with a huff, he held the jacket away from him with a look of disgust. “‘Ello mate, how was your nap?” He jumped, looking over at Tom in alarm. Eyes narrowing, he queried, “Who are you and why the fuck is this jacket so wet?”

“Tom,” was his immediate response, but it felt incomplete, “Tom Syndicate.” He wasn’t sure were the name Syndicate came from, but it right, felt close to his full name. (He knew that wasn’t it, the last part seemed off, like it was a title more than a name). There was a pause, before his companion begrudgingly returned with, “Tucker Boner. Or Jericho. I’ve been called both.”

“Boner? Like getting some-” “Oh shut the fuck up!”

~

Dianite trusted Furia, far more than any normal being. He knew that he would find something to help, especially when the god himself was emotionally compromised. However, he did not expect the solution to be Furia throwing him into the portal, and letting him into the world. Frankly, he wasn’t quite over Tom’s death, and letting him out into world did not sound like a great way to keep him alive.

But Furia even had that covered. Somehow, the (rather special) portal had landed him on the island with respawning. After… a certain event, a large amount of magic remained in the land, and made it to where people who die there… just come back. Whether it was dumb luck or careful planning, he was relieved nonetheless.

Now, courtesy of the fire demon, he was peering into a looking glass, homed in on the newly revived Tom. (He yearned to be there with him, but he wasn’t ready for it). The zombie was prancing around with some other human (he could feel the pure Mianitee radiating off him), and they were struggling to make it through the night. He couldn’t help the flinch as Tom let out a shriek when he was shot by a skeleton. But instead of falling dead (again, not again, please) his body disappeared. In a little puff of smoke, Tom was over at the hill, where he first got to the island, very indignant and pouting.

To see his beloved so full of life, happy even, filled him with unbridled joy. But. It hurt. It was a bittersweet victory, to have him back, but to have lost so much of him. Would they ever find their love again? This Tom, one with new experiences, a whole new life, another chance to find happiness where life once strove to wrench it away from him, would they find their way back to each other?

A cold feeling settled in his stomach. Could he let himself get close again? All those times they shared, all the things they helped each other through, what they bonded over. How could he just… re-write those? Would making new memories erase the value of what used to be? If he let them go, was he disregarding, disrespecting who Tom used to be?

… is Tom even nearly the man he used to be?

~

Tom finally stopped dying (goddamn skeletons). But he managed to build a neat little home into the side of a mountain, get some swag (Tucker was still struggling in the diamond department, what a scrub). Yet, now that he was set up, some sort of priest rolls in claiming the greatness of Mianite? Some sort of god? It was mildly annoying and mostly confusing. Nonetheless, he was willing to play along with the appeasement of the god, if it meant he could troll Tucker in relative peace.

What he wasn’t expecting, was the god to be an ass. A bit bitchy, doesn’t like to show up much, and seems to be playing favorites. He was about to give in and play the ass kicker (looking at Tucker, kissing the ground he walks on to reap the benefits), when someone new came in. Rather, a new god. Apparently, Mianite had some kickass older brother, ready to fucking fight the bitch. None other than the badass Dianite. (It was weird, how he had barely seen him, just for a few minutes, and he was already very fond of him. He may have acted somewhat cold and gruff, but he knew he could give him his loyalty).

So now, he was happily wreaking chaos and destruction for his god, easily lording over Tucker. And he didn’t know if the god was watching him or not, but he had a burning need to make him happy. (He remembered his first day being awake again, the devastated look on his face when he asked who he was. It unsettled him, made him want to do anything to make it better. Seeing him in pain cut deep in him, and he didn’t know why). He paraded around, juggling being friends with the other humans, with pranking and crusading against them, to just being chill. It was weird, but if his god would be happy, it would be worth it.

And when he was holed up in his house, trying to recover his shit (his damn gift from Dianite), he worried about his warring god just outside. He looked worse for wear, slowly losing the fight to his brother. Mianite, of course, didn’t give a shit, or didn’t notice. He struck the last blow with half glee, half solemnness.

And for a moment it felt as though someone reached in his chest to strangle his heart. His god was down, and no one could say whether a god could kill another. Who’s to say, that even as brothers, that Mianite wouldn’t kill the weakened god when he had the chance? Mortal or not, if this bitch actually took out his god, he was going to return the favor. (He felt a sting in his eyes, and dammit, that made him angrier).

But he was just banished back to the nether. Mianite may be a fucking asshat, but at least Dianite wasn’t dead. (And if the squeezing of his heart didn’t lessen any, he couldn’t figure out why).

~

He wasn’t prepared for the sudden insomnia. In the previous weeks, he was fine, sleeping well through the morning after going to bed late at night. But for some reason, now he was straining to get any sleep at all. Each day was a new experience of surviving off baked potatoes, tea, and the general influx of emotions and daily pranks.

It wasn’t that he was too hyped up. Somedays he would simply mine, grinding for some more swag. Others he would tend to his indoor garden, trying to get to Champwan levels but failing. The only days he got into whatever he was doing involved pranks. But, due to his lingering exhaustion, he mostly just kept to low power activities. (He thinks the priest is starting to notice, but he hasn’t said anything).

His erratic schedule normally didn’t affect him, perhaps a side effect of being a zombie. He was used to going long into the night, practically morning, and sleeping late into the day. It was just his style. But even now, as he just, sat there, staring listlessly out his window, he couldn’t find sleep.

The night wore on, the stars wandering through the sky. He couldn’t just sit here anymore. Even if he was tired, no ready to fucking drop. But he rose, meandering down the steps of his home. Pausing his at his steps, he peered out into the gloom. It was quiet, the usual rustling of mobs not present. Venturing out into the world, he simply wandered.

On occasion, he would catch sounds of other life, but each sweep of his eyes found nothing but flora. So, he continued on his way, finding his feet going in the general direction of Hecz’s house. (Whatever happened to the man, after he informed them he was going on a trip? Did he decide he liked wherever he was better, or had he perished?). It wasn’t long before he ran out of land, stopped by the shore. He plopped himself on the beach, content to stay there for a while.

His mind felt fuzzy, plagued by the lack of sleep. He heard a slow set of footsteps, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit. There was nothing valuable on him, and respawning was a quick endeavor. At least he wouldn’t have to walk home. But he received no agony, no pain of any sort. Instead, he turned his head to see the zombie making a rather peculiar expression. With a long groan, it bent its knees and unceremoniously fell beside him.

He wasn’t sure he was actually seeing this, or rather hallucinating, but the other zombie repositioned itself to seemingly uncomfortably sit beside him. The two stared at each other, and a deep understanding as set in the other’s eyes. It was strange, how something known to hunt people down on the pure need to be somewhat more human again, could possess the emotions he was feeling. But it knew. Somewhere in those black, dead eyes, it too, knew what was wrong.

For a while Tom had thought it was seeing his god die, but that wasn’t it. It was seeing the one who drug him from the void (he had pieced it together after some hard consideration) fall so easily. If he could fall, who’s to say Tom wouldn’t fall as well? And he knows, better than any of his human companions, that the void will mercilessly swallow anyone. And this zombie knew. For it had found its way out somehow.

And they stayed there until the sun rose, staring at the sky. When his companion solemnly started to burn, Tom shed his first tears since his revival. (He wondered, if one day, instead of burning to death, would he just… despawn? Get swallowed by the void once more. He didn’t want to know).

(AN: Doesnt feel angsty enough lol. I was going to add detail, but im lazy so.)

[syndianites]

Soulmates (Just figure it out already)

66. “Wait, you’re my soulmate?”

Ship: Syndianite/Diacate (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Everyone was born with some wacky mark that they shared with their soulmate. When he was little, Tom dreamed of being some knight in shining armor for his soulmate. After tiring of looking for his soulmate, he wasn’t prepared to be the damsel in distress (at least he made a fabulous damsel)

AN: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) This is gonna be great. No smut in this (I considered it….), but we’ll get a great first meeting and oblivious Tom. @syndcates

Tom plainly stared at the man’s bland mark pasted on his neck. Some blob of colors, roughly in the shape of a… piece of bread? A deformed gold nugget? A beaten-up sun? Who fucking knows. The bearded man sneered at the shorter man, “Looking at my mark little bitch? I bet you wish you had such an extravagant beauty as mine.” The younger rolled his eyes. “Wow, such a big word for someone with a small brain. What the fuck is that supposed to be? A golden piece of shit?”

His eyes bulged, mouth twisted back in a snarl. “You’re going to end up a pile of shit if you don’t keep your mouth shut.” Tom eyed the man’s mark once more. “You’re right, maybe I should keep my mouth shut.” He gave a light shrug. “You probably already know how pathetic your mark is. Honestly, they should have made another requirement for recruitment, an actual mark that doesn’t look like someone had diarrhea.”

“Now you’re getting it you little bitch,” the brute roared, charging at the smaller man with his fist pulled back. Tom ducked under the fist, some sloppy attempt at a right hook, and took the initiative to trip the man. With a curse, he went sprawling to the ground in a sad heap, flailing uselessly. Had they been allowed weapons before the bullshit tests they were to go through, he would have left more than a couple scratches. Probably start by removing that god-awful beard.

“Enough squabbling,” a voice called from above. Along with the rest of the group, about twenty other people, he turned to see Furia standing above them. The fire demon boredly scanned the assembled humans, unimpressed with the turn out. Though there were a few interesting persons, that one man strangely dressed like a stripper, the one sporting bright blue hair, and one girl wearing as many spikes on her clothes as possible, the overall group seemed lacking. Many of the potential recruits appeared weak or entirely too timid. Not to mention the power-hungry freaks, thinking that they were entitled to anything once recruited.

“For those of you who are less aware,” he made a not so subtle glance towards a couple, the two men pointing at spike girl, not even trying to listen to the higher being, “You will be undergoing a series of tests to deem whether you are worthy of becoming part of Lord Dianite’s army. Try not to waste my time. There are plenty more qualified people waiting for attention, and I don’t really need more children to attend to.” Some of the group was offended, very confident in their skill, while the other shrugged it off, already prepared for Furia’s scathing comments and sass.

At that point, they were separated into two groups and taken to the testing area. The first activity was simple really, take a small boulder and throw it as far as possible. There were a few grumbles as the first group stepped up, doubting the point of the exercise. The first few to throw made it pitifully far, trying their best to launch it in a shot-put style. Shit mark brute puffed up proudly as his made it the second farthest, just behind the stripper’s (who made is surprisingly far, a good 10 feet away). Tom took a little more time, along with the more skeptical attendants. He lifted the rather large rock, and turned a few times before setting it loose with a motion more typical of a disk. The result was considerably better than that of the other people, outdoing the burly man he fought, but still behind the stripper.

After his demonstration, the remaining people were quick to mimic him, finding more success than the earlier attempts. Unfortunately for the stripper, two people found theirs farther than his, and quite a number found theirs beyond or close to Tom’s. Their observer hummed for a moment, before bringing them to the next test. This was a tad more complicated, their goal was to get on the other side of a 12-foot wall, with no obvious hand holds.

Once more, a few people took initiative, making a running start and scrambling at the mostly smooth rock. Some found themselves stuck, not sure where to go. A small number of people standing behind took a moment to watch what Tom would do. Said person glanced at the wall, then at Furia. Shrugging, he ran towards the wall, only to go around it. Going to stand next to the fiery being, he received a nod of approval, as it was never specified they had to scale the wall. A tad embarrassed, the rest of them followed Tom’s footsteps.

They went through the remaining tests in this fashion, Tom occasionally finding easier ways to go about tasks, sometimes others took the time to figure better ways out first. Overall, stripper man, Tom, and spike girl were doing the best, with some girl with a pig pulling her weight rather well. (When they were moving between sets, Tom asked the girl about the massive number of spikes she wore, she said they gave her confidence and made her look badass. And no one questioned the pig, it simultaneously assisted the girl with her tasks and did them itself.).

The last test was a traditional one: dueling. They were giving opponents from the opposite group, the one brute unhappy to lose the opportunity to show Tom up. The blue haired man found himself up against the pig lady, both wielding dulled blades, while the pig looked rather menacingly at him. “Don’t fuck up too bad, cuts from a dull blade hurt worse than a sharp one,” Furia idly called out, mostly unconcerned with any injuries that less prepared would receive.

Once it was Tom’s turn, the swine took no time to charge him, careening at his legs. He sidestepped at the last minute, hitting that side of its face with the flat part of his sword. It stumbled, dazed, and he turned to find himself face to face with his actual opponent. Her swings were lightning fast, but speed was all she had. Beyond a few scratches left on his skin, (Furia was right, it hurt like a bitch), they held no real force, at least if she wanted to make a real wound. He took to outmaneuvering her, repeatedly ducking under swipes and dodging overhead swings, landing hits on her sides and back.

Just as he was going to land the defeating blow (no deaths, Furia had instated, loser had to clean any blood stains), he tumbled over as the pig returned, finally finding his mark. He used the momentum of his fall to roll from the duo, quickly righting into a crouch. The pig lady hurried to find the defeating blow, but as she swung towards him, he rolled off to her side, rising in one fluid motion and sending his blade up to her neck. A thin trickle of blood trailed down her pale skin as he was established as the winner.

Furia wasn’t really surprised when the blue haired one won. Upon viewing the group from afar, Dianite himself had told him to keep an eye on him. There was something strange with the way he looked at him, an excited and elated glint to his eye, an unusually soft smile gracing his lips. When the demon asked about his strange behavior, the god waved it off, saying he’d tell him later. And as the man both thanked the lady and her pig for a great fight (what a gentleman), and smugly flipped off his pseudo opponent from earlier, who lost to a petite girl, who destroyed him, he was certain he was a good fit for the army. (Hopefully he wouldn’t be so kind to their enemies, however).

Once all were done, he dismissed them, and they found their way back to their assigned rooms. Tomorrow, he would wake them long before the sun returned, and announce who got to stay and who needed to get the fuck out. Somehow, the stripper found his way onto the staying list, outperforming many of the others. (He would have kept pig lady, as she was mostly to standard, but he was not going to deal with having a fucking pig to look after. Watching the rest of the immature recruits was annoying enough). Shaking his head, he went to relay the results to the god.

~

Dianite knew exactly when his soulmate was born. The dragon made of flames curled on the skin above his heart, a vibrant orange hue against his ruby skin, practically burst to life when he came into the world. But he chose to wait to meet him. Making a connection with his soulmate so young might poorly influence his other, his vast years of life giving him much more experience than the younger. He had seen in many people, that the wider the age gap, which was laughable with himself, the better is was to meet later in life. It irritated him, but he promised himself that if they hadn’t met by the time he turned 25, he was going to have to make a grand entrance into his life.

Of course, this didn’t stop him from stalking the child from time to time, sometimes from regular eye sight, other times from more magical means. His name was Thomas Cassel. He had an older sister, who was strangle chaotic for someone who chose to follow his sister, and separated parents. Though his family wasn’t particularly poor, they certainly weren’t boasting wealth. This lead to Tom taking all sorts of odd jobs, and finding create means of making money.

Dianite was silently proud of his ingenious soulmate, though he wished he’d be smarter as a whole. Years of watching the child grow into a young man created a growing affection for him. But as he hit 20, those feelings started to change. And damn, he might just be in love with the mortal. The only thing he had to do now was meet him, and it got harder to wait every day.

So, when he finally showed up to one of his recruitment sessions (it was clear he was one of his followers very early on, regardless of the soul mark situated upon his right shoulder), he could hardly keep himself away. Though he was fairly certain he would pass the tests, he wanted to make sure he was prepared for what his army entailed. Soul mate or not, he needed to find a place among his people. (Though, if all else failed, he wasn’t against keeping him around just to spoil him).

He watched the group progress from afar, not very subtly if the way Furia sent him a sidelong glance told him anything. The humans didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in their tests. And Tom was doing remarkably well (no, he was not biased), finding ease in most things that proved challenging to his groupmates. When Furia started to approach him, the blue haired man exiting the area, he already knew he was getting to stay.

The first thing he received from the fiery being was an eye roll. “You couldn’t have been a little subtler with how you stared at him?” The god simply lifted the garment covering his mark (he wouldn’t want people actively seeking out his soul mate), and gestured towards it. Furia’s eyebrows shot up, before he gave a groan. “Why am I not surprised. Lucky you he will fit into the army well. Though I doubt you’d let him leave anyway.” Before the god could interject he prattled off the list of people he would keep, a little less than half the group. “The only one we must keep an eye on,” he continued, putting emphasis on we, “is the younger girl. We need to see if she is educated, and make sure she doesn’t get preyed on by any older recruits. They may lose their lives if they do.”

The god hummed in agreement, “Determine what age groups she’s in and see if we can’t pair her up with someone closer to her age. I thought we had a minimum age? I will not have children, no matter how skilled, in my army. They could be doing something better, like having a childhood.” His companion playfully rolled his eyes, rather amused by the mother hen moment. “We do, it is 15. Only for those who really need the job.”

Dianite gave a dismissive nod, already starting to walk back to the fortress. The two discuss other matters along the way, though Dianite found his thoughts often wandering to a certain blue haired man. If Furia noticed the small smile playing on the edge of his lips, he didn’t point it out.

~

Tom was certain the rumors circulating were absolute bullshit. Apparently, Lord Dianite himself had taken interest in his group, C27, a purely newbie group, and was seen watching them many times. He hadn’t seen the god, no one in their group had seen the god, when someone asked Furia, he just shrugged, telling them, “You know what they say, all rumors stem from some fraction of truth. Now get the fuck back to training, your defense is slacking. Again.”

Still, many people claimed to have spotted the god watching the group at one point or another. Tom had no clue why. They were hardly two weeks into their training regimine, and only half their group was managing it. That didn’t stop the bigger egos of the group from swelling in the head. “He must be enraptured by my skill. I bet he’s looking to promote me to a permanent group,” one of the hardier men crow, smirking towards his current sparring partner. “Yes,” the male stripper, now donning actual clothes per regulation, scoffed, “And he’s here to check me out for a private dance.” A few more carried on in this fashion, one girl very adamant that he was mostly impressed with her and ready to give her a special ops position. (Really, some of these people didn’t know the meaning of humility).

Even after Furia claimed that Dianite was not watching them to check out the group, you guys are doing fucking terrible, the chatter continued. He didn’t deny that he was watching. Tom didn’t give a shit. He was determined to get into a better group, some asshole tried to grope him while he slept. Needless to say, he has a new scar. (Strangely enough, he didn’t come back after going to patch his wound. Must have been rather scared of the angry blue haired man).

After a few more weeks, they started to weed through the true fighters, and those who would be put onto supporting jobs (every team needed a medic, and the medic needed to know how to fight). Of course, there were those who were kicked out or tried for breaking certain rules that should never be trifled with. (One man was sentenced to death when he tried to take out a General to free a position for himself. Loyalty was one of the celebrated qualities of the Dianite following, and that included loyalty to the Dianite family). Though the blue haired man was certain he would be kept, he wasn’t too sure he’d receive any important position.

He wasn’t prepared to be called down by Furia, along with one of his newbie sisters (her name was Dylan, apparently her parents were expecting a boy, but decided the name would stick with a girl anyway). The pair were debatably better than most of the group, better with discipline and rather proficient with most of the weapons and craft thrown their way. Despite this, they worried. The last group to be called down by Furia was told to leave. Tom would be damned if he wasted all this time to not be good enough.

But as the fire demon lead them down a long series of hallways, bringing them further into the fortress, they weren’t too sure what was in store for them. They were stopped in front of an extravagant door, in which Furia turned to them and plainly stated, “Make sure you look presentable.” And then proceeded to open the doors and enter. That was the only preparation they had to stop their jaws from dropping. Before them, in his splendid glory and divinity was none other than Lord Dianite.

He was seated behind an ornate desk, lined with golden patterns and making up a large portion of the room. Before it was three cushioned chairs, meant for visitors such as themselves. The god was looking amusedly at their stunned expressions, though he appeared to have been working through paperwork of some sort. He waved it away, the papers disappearing in a cloud of smoke. Gesturing towards the chairs, he had the two mortals sit. Furia closed the doors behind them, and they Tom exchanged a baffled glance with his companion.

As Tom locked eyes with the god, a shiver raced up his spine. He spoke with a deep tone, a passive intensity hidden within, “There’s no need to worry, I brought you here due to your prowess and skill.” He shared a look with Furia, before shifting his gaze to Tom once more. “You have been selected as my newest personal guards. This will be a temporary job, for security reasons, but you have been drafted for this as you, being newbies, are most likely to be free of any manipulation that could affect your overall performance.”

With a nod to Furia, he stood, leading the group from the room once more. Through another series of confusing twists and turns, they reached the throne room, currently empty. He strode up the steps and turned back to them. “You’ll be positioned at the foot of the steps, one on each side, and be armed with swords, bows, and spears. Spears in hand, swords at the hip, bows at the back. Anyone who poses a threat to me is to be taken out, preferably alive for questioning. At times, I may ask you to escort someone from the room. Only Furia is allowed to be on or up the steps, or really anywhere past you. If you follow these instructions, you’ll do fine. Questions?” He was met with silent head shakes, the orders rather clear.

Thus, began their trials of handling the bullshit people came up with.

~

The first act of utter bullshit Tom had to deal with was almost two days later. Day one consisted of getting used to the steady flow of people asking for favors, or offering sacrifices, or even complaining about things that didn’t have anything to do with the god.  

This particular man stood before the god was one of the latter. He was here on some bogus complaint that one of his fields was destroyed by some ruffians, and how the god needed to fix them. No mention of them being Dianitees (not that the god would assist such an ungrateful peasant), no offerings in return for the favor, and the man even had the audacity to approach the steps, only stopped by the spears barring his path. Spittle flying from his lips, he turned on Dylan, assuming weakness from the woman. “How sad that you need to hide behind a girl,” he sneered, attempting to shove her to the side. She didn’t budge, instead pushing him back a few steps, away from Dianite.

The god boredly settled his chin and his fist, leaning on the left side of the throne. “Guards,” he called down, “Escort him out. He has overstayed his welcome.” Enraged, he tried once more to make his way past the guards, this time Tom shoved him back, approaching him with even steps. “You can’t treat me like this! How dare you put yourself upon a throne, acting as a tyrant!” Dylan took her chance to land a blow on the annoying man, giving him a solid hit to the stomach.

With a grunt, he tried to wrestle the spear from her, giving Tom the chance to take his legs out from under him. “Either you walk away with your last shred of dignity, or I drag you out like the rat you are.” The man snarled at the guard (AN: I apologize for breaking the story, but Guard Tom XD) lunging at him. Before he could make contact, he was thrown back with the force of chains flinging themselves around him. His head hit the ground with a dizzying crack, the man letting out a groan.

From where Dianite sat he had one hand flicked out to the side. “I don’t appreciate you assaulting my guards heathen. You come in here, assuming I’d assist you, when you don’t even follow me or plan to give any offerings in return. Take him to the dungeon, we’ll find a punishment for him later,” he nodded to the two, “There will be guards outside as well, take him to them and tell them to take him down.”

There were no more spectacular incidents that day.

~

Today was yet another day of listening to the requests, prayers, and offerings of the people he oversaw. Regardless of their beliefs (he honestly didn’t give a shit as long as the Mianitees stayed away from his fortress), he held direct rule over the surrounding area. Unfortunately, this meant he had to deal with many matters concerning the inhabitants.

While many were smaller problems, a few cause more annoying problems. Like the ones who decided to push his guards around. (Not that they succeeded very much, the two were rather difficult to push around). However, it was more annoying when they showed an obvious interest in them. Specifically, Tom. He was aware that their uniform was rather fancy, reddened steel armor, with golden stitching laced into the leather binding it together. Underneath the armor were simple black tunics, covering every inch of skin, thick enough to deter any lucky strike to get through the cracks in the armor. But they didn’t cover the face, and their hair could still stick out some.

Tom’s blue hair drew attention, and though many tried to be subtle, he could see them checking out his soulmate. The urge to mark him in front of them, to show that Tom is his was strong, but he was determined to wait for Tom to figure it out. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to wait, honestly it was killing him having Tom so close, but part of him knew it would be easier for Tom to find out on his own.

But as the latest person didn’t even try to be subtle about checking Tom out (normally, they checked out Dylan, who was ready to stab them when given the chance) he felt the urge to murder. At least only he could have a good view of his ass, as he was only ever turned away from him. He knew the man’s type, greedy, thinks he’s sly, and looking for a new toy.

Honestly, Dylan even looked ready to beat his ass. But he was being civil, and prepared a rather swell offering in exchange for safe voyage to the next continent and back, and promised to give him some of his profits. He wasn’t about to let his own emotions conflict with something that benefitted him. So, despite his displeasure with the merchant, (who he was sure had some darker dealings going on), he made sure to bless him with calm seas.

~

Dianite was not, in fact, following Tom to make sure he returned home safely. The blue haired man had separated with his companion, who went to meet her soulmate for dinner. He was simply making last minute rounds before heading to his chambers to rest. However, when he saw a group lurking around the corner from Tom, who was making his way through the courtyard to the barracks, he was watching much closer than before.

The younger man seemed to have a clue that something was up, hand trailing to the hilt of his sword (he left his spear in the throne room, it was a custom weapon meant for that job). He wasn’t prepared for the three men to rush him, two distracting him, while one came up behind him with a cloth. When it was pushed to his face, he struggled not to breath and fight off his attacker, but the other two held him in place. A punch was landed into his gut, causing him to gasp, taking in whatever drug the cloth was laced with, and in seconds, he was out.

Dianite was not about to let them run off with his human. Eyes aglow, he stepped behind forward, smoothly teleporting behind them. Growling, he pierced the stomach of the first attacker, the other two turning from where they struggled to hold Tom up. In a fluid motion, he flicked a sword to his hand, and sliced through the neck of one. The last one dropped Tom and tried to run, but, after catching him, he set the man aflame.

Cradling Tom in his arms, he picked him up bridal style, debating as to where to go with him. Indulging a little, he teleported to his own room, settling the mortal upon his bed. He gazed at his serene face, biting his face. Everything in his screamed at him to mark his human, his soulmate. But, he didn’t know. “For fucks sake, sometimes I hate my dumbass decisions,” the god grumbled, brushing some of his hair off his forehead.

He chose to skip out on sleep that night, instead cuddling the sleeping man, who curled into him so naturally it made him want to keep him here. Though the drug was likely only meant to keep him out for two hours max, it was added to by the already tired state he had been in. The night passed this way, and when daylight broke, he reluctantly returned the mortal to his room, not caring if anyone noticed.

~

Tom started to notice something… strange. Almost a week ago, he had been jumped, and he barely registered blacking out, before he was waking in his bed once more, warmer than he had ever been with these cruddy blankets. (And rather relaxed, that may have been the best sleep of his life). Ever since that day, he would find his way to bed, but always have a vague recollection of cuddling with someone delightfully warm. But each time he tried to find out who, he’d open his eyes to the dim room he was placed in, in the barracks. He just wanted to know why he felt so peaceful in these moments.

If the tingle in his shoulder was anything to go by, he had a feeling as to why. If only they would stay, so they could meet properly. (In the back of his head, a voice screamed he already knew him, just look up dumbass, but Tom couldn’t understand it). And he was once more on guard duty, his mark still warm and soothing from last night, and some serious shit was happening.

Some Mianitee decided to deface part of the fortress, and was captured for trespassing and being an ass (the last one wasn’t the actual sentence, but accurate). But while Dianite calmly had the two escort him to the dungeon (along with the door guards), he acted out once more. From a hidden pocket he unfurled an explosive, made to detonate upon impact. The front guards both crumpled against the wall with twin thuds, and the Mianitee used one of their spears to cut himself loose in their stunned daze.

Acting fast, Tom used his own spear to jab at the man, who pivoted and broke the wooden shaft. Dylan dropped her spear and drew her sword with a flick of her wrist, taking his momentary distraction to get behind him. She swiped at him, but he dodged by barreling into Tom, grabbing the sharp end of the broken spear and jamming it into his gut.

Despite the wound inflicted upon him, Tom wrapped his legs around his aggressor, giving Dylan the vantage point to knock him out with the butt of her sword. “Tom?” She crouched down before him, rolling the body off his carelessly. “Hurts like a fucking petty bitch, but I’ll live. It’s probably lodged in my intestines, so there won’t be too much bleeding… I think,” he uttered through gritted teeth, one hand wrapped around splintered wood, about to remove the offending item.

“Leave it,” came the deep voice of their god. Tom craned his neck to see him glide down the hallway, concerned frown gracing his features. He surveyed the scene, two guards unconscious, likely with a concussion, and his soulmate with part of a spear lodged in him. Glaring at the blacked-out figure on the floor next to the awake duo, he snapped his fingers, sending him to the torture chamber for some fun.

“Dylan,” her head snapped up as he addressed her, “Go inform the waiting line that I will not be receiving any one else today. If they question you or complain, tell them I’m dealing with one of my brother’s bitches.” She gave a nod to her god, and jogged down the hall to do as told. He swept he hand towards the other two, presumably sending them to the medical wing.

Looking down at the injured blue haired man, he sighed. Holding nothing back, complained to him, “Why is my soulmate so attracted to trouble?” Shaking his head at the mildly dazed look he received, he lifted Tom in his arms, moving them both into his quarters. Placing him on the bed, reminiscent of a night a week earlier, he did not hesitate to yank the spear head out of Tom. “Son of a bitch,” Tom practically screamed, looking at the god incredulously. “A little warning next time?”

Rolling his eyes, the god set about removing the mortal’s shirt, taking the time to do it manually, just to shamelessly run his fingers over his skin. Once the wound was uncovered, he placed his hand about it, mending the wound and numbing the pain. “It’ll be better if you sleep it off,” Dianite murmured to his injured soulmate.

Swinging his half cape from shoulders and wrapping it around Tom’s, he picked him back up, moving to his office. Just as he was going to push Tom into sleep, a hand raised against his temple, the mortal whispered, astonished, “Wait, you’re my soulmate?” With a huff, the god sent him to sleep, settling into his chair with Tom resting in his lap.

“About fucking time.”

(AN: I don’t know why that took so long to write, but somehow it turned out to be my longest ficlet so far. Damn. Also, Tom is oblivious, and I couldn’t make a good reason for Dia not to tell Tom they were soulmates… oh well. I hope y’all enjoyed, especially @syndcates )

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 5

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 5/?

AN: Tom gets to see some old friends… but they’ve changed.

@theshadowlord @syndcates @maiatanfallan-arts @maiatan-fallan

(If anyone wants to be tagged, for some strange reason, let me know

Chapter 5

There was a heartbeat approaching. He could feel each step that brought it closer, could feel whisper of breath leaving their throat. They cast a shadow over the curled figure of Tom, huddled against a large tree. A hesitant hand reached out to him. They gasped, startled, as he snatched their wrist before contact was made. Looking up with bloodshot eyes, he locked his gaze onto a shorter woman, all dark skin and hair.

“Are you alright,” she asked, hand over her heart, trying to calm herself, “You’ve been out here for hours.” Releasing a breath, Tom let go of her hand, silently nodding, swallowing around a dry throat. It hurt so much. She was so very close to him. But her trusting mocha eyes, the genuine concern within them, he couldn’t do it.

She was not buying his response. “Look, I know what someone on drugs looks like. It’s okay, I’ve too many friends trying to recover from them to judge you.” With a slow hand, she rubbed down his back is calming circles. Carefully, she hoisted him up, kind enough to let him hunch away from the noon sun.

Their pace was slow, but she was determined to help him. As she drug him into a diner, one rather full with the lunch rush. They were sat at a small table, far enough inside to be free of the sunlight. “I don’t have any money you know.” Tom slumped forward onto the table. Futilely trying to block out the sound of so many humans, their hearts beating in separate rhythms.

She spared him no response before ordering him a cup of coffee and herself a basket of fries. “It’s okay. Addiction can cause all sorts of problems. I’ll pay today.” Wiggling to peer up at her, he indignantly mumbled, “I’m not on drugs. It’s close, but more in favor of me being off medication of sorts.” A frown marred her features, as she thought this over.

She didn’t speak back up until the food came, thanking the waiter. Picking up a fry, she commented, “Do you not have enough money for your medication? And it’s making you miserable and going through some sort of withdraw?” Lifting his head to take a sip of the coffee, nose wrinkling at the bitter taste, he mumbled in reply, “I have some at home. I just… overestimated how long I could go without it.” He grimaced as he picked up the cream that came with the cup and a packet of sugar, pouring a generous amount in.

At this point she graciously changed the conversation, “So are you in school right now? You look college age.” Deciding he had fixed his drink, Tom took a sip to gather his thoughts. “Not really no. I mean, I graduated, but I’ve considered going back as a grad student. I’m pretty focused on my YouTube account though, as dorky as that sounds.” He had to focus on something. Anything that wasn’t the blood flowing through the veins of the people surrounding him. Despite the rather hot nature of his drink, the tip of his tongue still tingling, he took another gulp.

His companion let out a laugh at his statement, brightly telling him, “My older sister is big into online gaming! She has an upstarting YouTube account focused on multiplayer games.” This led to a conversation about what her sister’s channel was, what his channel was, and their favorite games. (Though she, her name being Anne, was more into programming games than playing them. She actually designed some of the games her sister played as a beta tester for).

He was relaxing, snagging some of her fries, even letting a few smiles break free. But he couldn’t miss the way her heart beat in a steady rhythm, the way her pulse points stood out to him, how much he was craving. She wasn’t going to be his next target, but he needed someone. And it had to be soon.

~

There was something missing in the room. It was a comfortable temperature, the light was effectively blocked out, the pillows and sheets were pleasantly clean. But something wasn’t right. He snuggled closer to his love… only to feel something much squishier in his grip. Eyes opening into slits, he found Tom’s pillow in his grasp, with the fledgling nowhere to be found.

He rose with a growl, the possessive note stemming from his need to be close to his beloved after engaging in such passionate activities. Shaking it off, he quickly searched for some clothes, sending a glare at the ribbon of light peeking from behind the blackout curtains. His love should be in bed still, resting and snuggled up against him.

Trailing towards the living room with a pout, he found it empty of his other, as were the rest of the rooms as he searched. This did not sit well with him at all. He sighed, making his way to the elevator. Tom was due for another feeding, his semi-daily hunger being pretty predictable. On one hand, if he had gone out to hunt, he was rather proud that his adorable little fledgling was taking initiative. On the other, it was fucking daylight outside.

~

“This is great, and I’m feeling much better now, but I really need to go meet up with my sister. She’s been expecting me for a while now,” Tom interject into Anne’s rant about how stupid people keep trying to break her games when she does extensive bug checks.

Her eyebrows shot up, a taken aback look gracing her face. “You have a sister waiting for you, and you didn’t tell me? Stay here, I’ll pay the bill and we’ll go. I have to make sure you are actually taking care of yourself.” She smoothly grabbed her wallet and stood, making her way to the waiter, engaging in polite conversation. After a few minutes, she came back, fishing out some money for a tip. “Let’s go Tommy boy.”

Pulling him out of the crowded restaurant, she gestured for him to lead the way. Surveying the area, he started off in the direction he thought would get him to the main street she lived off of. On the way, he was interrogated about his sister, older or younger, how well they got along, if she had been waiting long. Though she may have not noticed it, the streets grew quieter, more… grey. As though the very color had started to seep from it. It was eerie, seeing such a lively neighborhood so defeated looking.

The real struggle, however, was avoiding sunlight and reflective surfaces. What would Anne say if she knew he was a creature of stories? He wasn’t banking on her opinion, but having people know, maybe even Alice knowing. That brought a shiver to his spine.

But when they finally reached the street Alice lived on, the houses here separated into individual units, he couldn’t help the dread filling his stomach. Everything felt deathly, even the sky seemed to fall flat, the sun not quite reaching it here. And beyond his faint heart beat and his companion’s, the people’s here felt distant in a way that had nothing to do with how far they were. He picked up the pace, rushing towards Alice’s home. Anne seemed to finally catch on to the wrongness of the street, pausing her commentary to send an alarmed glance around the area.

Reaching the front door, he composed himself to knock on the door in a less hurried fashion. That died when he received no response, heard no one move, even with his strange, enhanced hearing (he still wasn’t quite used to it). “Alice,” he called out, knocking on the door with more fervor. Still, he received no greeting, no sign of being heard.

He fished his key from the pocket of his pants, he had grabbed it in case she wasn’t home, he roughly shoved it into the lock, opening the door when he heard the bolt turn. Grabbing the key, he stepped inside the hushed house. “Alice?” He ventured further inside, Anne following him after closing the door. Making him way towards the heartbeat he heard, he wondered where her fiancé was, or if the person inside was the fiancé.

She wasn’t looking well. The room they found her in was her sunroom, the windows finding little light to let in. Curled up in a round, cushy chair, she looked… tired. Beyond the bags pilling under her eyes, the whites holding a smoky quality, and her face was blank. He approached her slowly. “Allie?” Even this close, she didn’t seem to hear him. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Alice finally turned towards him.

With a slow blink, she finally seemed to connect back to reality. “Oh, hi Tom. Have you been here long? I ought to get some tea started, but I’m a little tired.” Now this was especially strange. Alice was either bone deep exhausted or ready to kick ass. There was no in between, and definitely no ��a little tired’. Biting back his own worries and problems, he focused on her.

Looking into her eyes, he didn’t see his sister. There was something missing, something that was part of her, just gone. Her mannerisms seemed almost lost, as though she didn’t know if what she was doing was right, like she was guessing how to act. It unnerved him. To see someone he grew up with act so different, as though someone took part of them away. Honestly, it scared him, and he thinks Anne was starting to notice.

“Tom,” she turned to him, chocolate eyes keeping him centered, “Why don’t you go make some tea for us? I’ll keep this lovely lady company.” He was ashamed by how fast he took the excuse to leave. He sullenly started heating some water in a kettle, staring through it. Just… he couldn’t stand the thought of Alice… not being Alice. But, even as he tried to think of ways to help her, to see what happened, he was starting to feel sick.

The smell of the food around him made his stomach churn. His throat was now painfully dry, and his head was starting to ache. And now, more than ever, he was aware of the heartbeats in the other room. Struggling to pay attention to anything but the easy targets in the other room, he almost missed the water reaching a boil. Pulling out two cups, he wasn’t sure he could stomach tea right now, he placed a teabag into the water, letting it bob and the water soak in the flavor.

Finally getting himself to return to the room, he was alarmed to see Anne having a hard time focusing, her running commentary starting to experience pauses at random. Handing her and Alice their cups, he politely tried to tell her, “You should head home soon, I’m sure someone is missing you right about now.” Maybe it was the strange affect lingering in the air, or his worry seeping into his face, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she stayed a little longer, finishing her tea and adding some more halting conversation.

Once she left the house, he turned to Alice, “I’ll be back in a little while, promise. Then we can see what’s wrong with you.” With that he swept out of the room, waiting long enough to trail behind Anne unseen. Though they had just met, he wanted to see she got home safe. And it was much easier not to feel the killer rays when not pretending to be normal. Often times, she seemed to stop confused, not sure which way she was going. Anytime she looked about to head the wrong way, he threw something to direct her attention the other way. The going was slow, but eventually she met up with someone she knew, coming back into herself a little bit.

He took that as his chance to find relief from the sun, and finally see it his dying need.

~

Dianite wasn’t at all amused with traveling through cheerily lit streets full of happy, easygoing humans. I just want my damn adorable little love back. He was dressed in a trench coat, an unassuming beige, with the collar pulled up, and a long-brimmed fedora, which didn’t help enough against the sun. But he was on a damn mission.

It didn’t help that Tom seemingly decided to walk all over the goddamn city, but when he made him way through a particularly… dead part, he grew worried. He knew what happened here. The Shadows. The tell-tale signs of corruption setting in, so close to the descriptions handed to him by the Modesteps. It was unnerving.

And when he followed Tom’s fading scent trail to some house, that was clearly infested with shadow constructs, he almost panicked. But he could vaguely feel Tom was beyond the house, not in it, so he skipped over it, taking note of the infested neighborhood. He needed to remove the problem before it got uncontrollable.

For now, he ventured into a safer area, he felt relief when the old trail was crossed by a newer one. Swiveling, he took a moment to determine which way he went, before following behind. It wasn’t long at all before he spotted a rather familiar sweatshirt moving through the natural shade. Picking up his pace, he caught the fledgling’s arm, pulling him close. “Seriously beloved, couldn’t wait to go out until I could go with you?”

Though unhappy with his sudden disappearance, he was delighted by the way Tom relaxed back into him. But he could feel something was off with him. Turning the younger vampire around, he was met with bloodshot eyes and almost white skin. Dragging him off into an alleyway, deep into the darkness, he whispered lowly, “You haven’t fed yet have you?” Shaking his head, he pulled his collar down. “You should know better,” he lightly chastised, drawing him closer, “Take your fill, and then we’ll have to talk. I believe you need to be punished for your reckless behavior.”

Tom, unnaturally quiet, nosed at the crook of his neck, lapping at a patch of skin. With expected eagerness, he sunk his fangs in, hastily sucking in the Lord’s blood. Now that the fledgling was firmly attached, he shuddered at the sensation of the blood being pulled from his body, a wave of pleasure moving along with it. Sliding them down the wall, he kept Tom carefully curled in his lap, straddling his thighs. Each long sip sent spikes of arousal through him, but he was more concerned with how much the fledgling was drinking. How long had he been struggling against the urge?

His thoughts were broken when Tom pulled back, hot breath panting against the wounds. With a sigh, one full of contentment and relief, he sank against the Lord. Lying there for a moment, he licked at the wound, taking in any last drops welling there. When he stopped, Diante was about to speak, but Tom beat him to it. “Something is wrong with Alice.”

(AN: Ha, cliff hanger. I say, as even I want to know what happens next lol.)

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 6

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

AN: Okay, I told myself there would be pain, Tom playing with his vampy powers, and Tucker? Gotta stay to that… gotta… stay to that. No tangents. Already thinking of some. Carp.

@theshadowlord @syndcates @maiatanfallan-arts @maiatan-fallan 

Chapter 6

The sun was creeping further into the alley, its path arcing to see into it. But Dianite couldn’t bring himself to move. His arms were cradling his young lover, the anxious look on his face complemented by the subtle shaking of his form. He wanted so badly to right the wrongs for him, to do anything to make him feel better. But all he could offer now was his comfort, arms wrapped around him and fingers threading through his hair. It was aggravating.

He contemplated trying a series of short ‘jumps’, (really, it was teleportation, but it was too wimpy to be considered such. But the very ability to move oneself in any way was beyond impressive.), to get them away from the sunlight and into the security of their home. But he wasn’t sure how well the nearby humans would take that. Two people just appearing from thin air.

Burying his face in Tom’s hair, he sighed. “You know we can’t stay here.” His lover pulled his head away with a grimace. “Well,” he started, eyes drifting to the side, “I can’t just let Alice stay like that.” His gaze hardened, jaw set. “She needs help.” Locking eyes with the god he fell into a whisper, “But I don’t know how to help her.”

The Lord set his head back against the wall. Tom couldn’t stay out here, especially if he had been through Shadow territory. If he was connecting the dots correctly, Alice has been corrupted. And if she was corrupted, Tom spending too much time near her could lead to harsh consequences. As much as he knew Tom loved his sister, he was afraid he would have to let her go sometime. Dianite wasn’t sure he wanted to see that happen so soon.

Setting a soft kiss on his forehead, willing the wrinkles forming there away, he tried to send a sense of calm to the fledgling. By the begrudging way his shoulders relaxed, it seemed to have worked to some degree. “How about this,” Dianite mumbled against his skin, “We’ll go home and sleep off the rest of this wretched day. Then when it comes time to rise once more, we’ll look into this disease filtering through the area. I’ll try my best to find the best way to cure it, even though our resources are limited. And you, you will do your best to stay in the building, preferably near me. But,” he broke off with a sigh, “If you really can’t stop your free spirit from wandering once more, please just take someone with you? If I’m not terribly caught up in work, I’d be more than happy to go with you.”

Tom stared up at his love, going slightly cross-eyed. “How do you know it’s a disease?” The fledgling himself had felt little effect of the strange essence that seemed to float in the air over there. He had assumed the very ground had become tainted, and that was pulling and twisting the people within it. But could it be a disease spreading? Dianite frowned for a moment, moving back to see his beloved clearer, “I don’t. Most of what I know comes from the information provided by our look outs. However, it is worrisome that they didn’t know that this was coming here, and that they haven’t reported in almost a week.” Biting his lip, he pondered what could have happened to them. Tony and Josh were rather capable, but who knows what the Shadows could have pulled on them? They did report some figures being more intelligent than others.

Looking down at the man in his arms, he resolutely decided one thing: The Shadows were not going to touch his beloved. Standing up, he began to drag his lover home.

~

He was not panicking. Oh no. Tucker was very calm, the textbook definition of it. Sure, maybe they had fucked up their schedule a bit, and it was later in the day then they had planned. Maybe sunset was much closer than they could afford, but surely, they would have enough sunlight to creep through without problem? It wasn’t like there would be anyone head hunting a group of fledglings who were caught as unaware as they were?

Marco, on the other hand, was freaking the fuck out. Not that Tucker was getting more freaked out by it. No, no, no. Just because Marco was good at keeping it together, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to have his breakdowns. And if they offset the rest of the group a little, I totally didn’t affect Tucker. Now if Hannah stopped asking him if he was okay, they could be well off right now, much closer to their destination than they were.

They were just going from west to north, a rather easy six miles. Sure, it was a bitch to walk on foot, especially with the sun tauntingly burning through their clothes. But it could be worse. They could be hunted down by angry Easterners, who were ready to avenge the bf of their Lord. Oh wait.

Tucker discreetly snuck a glance behind him, hoping the brim of his hat hid his eyes from his companions. Barely half a mile back, he had noticed steps almost mirroring theirs. It was strange to think about, but his enhanced hearing picked up on patterns rather well. (It wasn’t overly unique, but most fledglings couldn’t harness this until quite a number of years post change, the overwhelming sensation of their overpowered senses masking the ability). Though there wasn’t any particularly long pattern, the repeated motions caught his hearing. He hoped the others hadn’t noticed.

As it was, they had made it roughly four and a half miles. At five, Jordan promised that he would have people set to escort them the rest of the way. If his group could make the last bit of distance, they would be in the clear. But it was evident by the antsy movements he could vaguely pick up that they might not have that long. And as they approached a rather long strip of shade, he was proven right.

The only warning he received was the sudden rush of one set of footsteps, followed by the rest. He barely managed to hiss out, “Run!” before he was tackled to the ground. Hannah, already pulling a younger vampire away at a dead sprint spared a sorrowful glance at him before disappearing around the corner, the rest of their group following. Though he considered fighting his captors, a quick sweep around those still gathered around him made him just give in.

Only one had pursued his ragtag group, and he told each exactly where to go. They would be fine, so long as the one person running after them didn’t catch any. As for him? Lord have mercy.

~

Tom was trying his best. He had patiently snuggled up against Dia, adding what he could to his work. His love was researching this shitty corruption for him, though he was sure it had some benefit to his general worries, and he was determined to be a good little fledgling for him.

But even in his general comfort with Dia right there, was just so bored. Reading was a pain, as sometimes the letters would play tricks on him, deciding to be something different than they were, or his head just hurt with the amount of words he had to process. Who knew someone could make such lengthy reports. (Granted, he had seen Dia’s, and the Lord was definitely not one for them). He shifted with a little grumble.

Glancing over the mess of paper before them, Tom finally consented to his need to be doing something. Turning to peck Dia’s cheek, he slid out of his grip, not missing the pout the Lord sent his way. With a chuckle, he set about finding Nade.

It was well into the night, and he wanted to check out the city in his new night vision he heard vampires had. (He hoped that wasn’t some bogus legend, and actually a thing. It was hard to tell in the building). Many of the Dianite following loved to enthrall him with stories of amazing powers they had, from the various forms of pyrokinesis, to the super speed and strength (in comparison to humans), to some more individual ones, like being able to turn into smoke, or being able to see long distances. Those powers were random at best, downright impossible to tell what you would get.

And, well, he had promised Nade that they could check out whatever bullshit powers he got. First, they would try to see what kind of pyrokinesis he got. (It seemed inevitable for one of Dianite’s fledglings to get something relating to it, even if it was the opposite, like for Nade). Then, they could see if he got anything cool and special. (Tom made his friend promise to help get used to the weird enhanced senses and strength and shit, he was born human after all).

So when Tom walked into the more personalized office area, one meant for special ops and related people, Nade looked eyes with him immediately. The man threw him a smile, and gave a nod to his partners, who mostly rolled their eyes at him. Skipping over to Tom, he excitedly queried, “Are we going to test your powers now?” The fledgling nodded, reverently leading the way to elevator. Selecting one of the basement floors, they happily conversed through the ride.

“It would be so cool if you got the weird as fuck anti heat power I got. Then we could be day lighters together!” Nade was very set on the idea of not being alone in the sun. While it sounded cool, Tom decided the ability to set people on fire would be more fun. The two stepped out on the B08 floor, one designated for training whatever the fuck your powers were. Specifically, the floor for testing unstable powers. (For the most part, the only difference was extra padding and less expensive material. There once was a vampire who accidentally let out a sonic wave they didn’t know they had the ability for. Many things had to be replaced that day).

Striding into one of the empty rooms, Nade announced, “The most important question is can you make fire?” He picked up a block of wood from the corner stash, grunting as he dropped it a few feet in front of Tom. “So how I was told to do fire was to focus on making things hot. Well, it didn’t really work for me, because of obvious reasons, but I’ve heard it works for most people!” Stepping away from the target, her gestured to it. “Try it.”

With a frown, Tom stared intently at it, imagining it on fire. Nothing. Grumbling, he tried imagining it getting hotter, before sparking into flames. Nada. With an aggravated sigh, he focused on each fiber feeling heat, before crumbling to it, fire erupting from the weakened wood. This continued for about five minutes when Nade waved it off. “It’ll probably take some getting used to. I’m sure Dianite can explain it better.” If he was worried about his lack of progress, he didn’t show it.

Clapping his hands together, he continued, “We probably should go over the basic features of being a vampire, but that’s boring. Instead, we can search for your special thing!” He was silent for a moment, before slowly telling him, “I guess the best way to think about it is this, let your mind be quiet. I know, that’s going to be hard. But let your mind be quiet and reach out. Go farther than your Sire bond, then any bond you feel with anyone. Feel for something just on the brink of your mind, something that you didn’t know was there. And, I don’t know, grab it I guess? Try to get a grip on it.”

Skeptically following Nade’s instructions, he tried to block out the sounds around him. HE was painfully aware of their slow heartbeats, the unnatural rhythm. With a deep breath, he tried to focus beyond them. Though he was aware of more sound, he found himself feeling something else. Closing his eyes he focused on it. Faint thoughts filtered into his mind, and he understood what he reached, his Dire bond.

Rolling his shoulders, he lingered a moment before moving on, a small twinge of discomfort as he left the bond behind. For a while, all he could perceive was his immediate surroundings, though they seemed distant now. But then he brushed against something else. It gave off an unnatural, new sensation. And he grabbed it.

~

The world around her was broken, the lights and darks clashing horribly. She couldn’t remember when someone had last visited. It was hard to remember who even. Was it her fiancé, back from his business trip early? Or had it been her brother, concerned with how she missed out on their lunch? Someone had been here, but she couldn’t recall who. Weren’t there more than one the last time? Maybe.

Thinking too much hurt. The contrasting world around her gave her a headache, the sounds an eerie lullaby to her tired mind. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was aware that this wasn’t a good thing. Sleeping now could prove fatal, but she was just… tired. The days had blurred together, and she didn’t think she had ate at all. Perhaps sleeping would be for the best.

Someone was screaming at her to stop, stop, stop. Her eyes drooped. A shadow leaned over her. It stroked her cheek, a low chuckle sounding from it. “It’s okay, you can sleep. I know your tired. It’ll be all better when you wake up later. You’ll feel better, promise.” The voice, a soothingly light tone, was so inviting, but the screaming was still there. Why wouldn’t it go away? The mystery voice, sounding of a woman, cooed at her. She let her eyes fall shut. A couple minutes wouldn’t hurt. How long would she really be out before she couldn’t help but get back up from hunger?

As she let herself fall into slumber, her heart wrenched at the sound of sobs, broken and desolate. They sounded so familiar, but why? Who was crying, why? She wanted to help, really, but how could she help in such a tired state? She vowed to help the crying person when she woke up. Hopefully they felt a little better by then. Hopefully, she would too.

Once she slipped off into dream world, she missed the shriek that fought to be heard by a persistent cackling from the figure. “Sleep tight,” it whispered, moving towards her, “You’ll need the energy for when I take you for a spin.”

(AN: not so subtle foreshadowing! Any guesses as to what Tom’s Super Special TM power is? :D hopefully its not cliché, and somewhat fits with the general Dianitee thing. Maybe. I was going to do one thing, but that was too Ianite, and I figured it be best to reign it in a little more. I promised some hurt, and kinda gave it? Some fluff slipped in. Ooops)

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Bonus Chapter #1 NSFW

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Tom is just a fresh fledgling vampire. He wasn’t used to all the sensations, especially his libido rising.

AN: I was going to write chapter 3. Then smut happened. Pretty much my entire philosophy here.

BONUS CHAPTER # 1 NSFW

Tom is just a fresh fledgling vampire. He wasn’t used to all the sensations; the increased smells, the enhanced sight, the damn touch. He feels every piece of clothing with startling awareness. The temperature could drop half a degree and he’d notice. Hell, the slightest fucking breeze was like a wind storm to his skin. Now add some brushes against his poor crotch, the smell of Dianite absolutely everywhere, and just having him, right there. He was dying to touch him, to get Dia’s hands all over him.

But he was intently working. The Lord had that glazed look in his eyes, not of speaking through one of his fledglings, but of viewing a far-off place. Tom needed him to center back on him, to be the focus of his attention. (It was ironic, then, that Tom was in fact the sole reason he had done anything in the past couple of hours).

He shifted closer into Dianite’s side, breath hitching at the feel of his sweat brushing against his crotch. Sparing a glance up at his love, he saw no sense of here-ness in him. While he was flattered he let himself be so vulnerable in his presence, he wanted attention dammit. (Of course, the only thing Dianite was paying attention to there was anyone trying to attack them. Which was no one in their right mind).

Biting his lip as the slight friction get his dick to perk up a little, he shifted to be straddling Dia’s lap. Beyond having an arm wrap around his waist, he received no resignation. With a pout, he prepared himself for his next move. Grinding down on the Lord’s own dick, he let out a low moan at the sensation.

This managed to jerk Dia back to the here and now. Most importantly, it got him to look at Tom. Wide eyes took in the sight before him. Tom was perched on his lap, cheeks a lovely flushed color, mouth open and eyes pleading. And damn, he really needed to keep working. The fledgling ground down harder, straining his neck to nibble Dia’s collarbone, whimpering into his skin.

“Beloved, Mianite is still out there, and he needs to die,” the Lord started, before breaking off into a low moan as Tom stroked a hand across his chest, twerking his nipples. Hefting the younger up by the ass, he growls into his ear, “Now, now, you’re being naughty. Here I am trying to avenge you,” he licks the shell of Tom’s ear, “And all you can think about is sexing me up.”

Standing up, keeping the horny little vampire held up with one arm, he waltzes them into the bedroom. He rests the impatient man down on the bed, hovering over him. “I’d say you’re a tad… overdressed dear. Do you need some help with that, or are you good?” He slowly removed his own shirt, letting the younger have his eyeful. In a flurry of movement, Tom tried his best to remove his clothes, his shirt finding itself halfway to shreds as his pants were kicked off, boxers locking around his knees. With an aggravated hiss, he gave up on them.

Pouting, he started to tug at the Lord’s sweats, who was in turn glaring at the mark decorating his lover’s stomach. He let his fingers roam over the expanse of skin, Tom squirming under the touch. Lowering his head, he proceed to make the mark his, leaving a trail of hickeys all along the border, letting his fangs scrape against the scarring. His love mewled beneath him, feeling each gentle suck and lick with fresh intensity.

His hands trailed down to his cock, now at full attention and leaking, before his wrists were caught in large hands. “No,” the Lord growled, possessiveness working into his voice, “Tonight, only I can touch you.” Tom whined, that goddamned voice such a fucking turn on, his ears picking up each vibration with crystal clear reverence.

Pinning his wrists above him with one hand, Dia lifted back to admire his work, a rough circle both outlined and covered with his marks. Fuck Mianite. How dare he touch what is his. He raked his eyes over the quivering form beneath him, completely at his mercy. Only he could do this, only he held the luxury of taking Tom apart piece by piece.

Almost purring, the Lord queried the trembling man beneath him, “How would you feel about helping me out of these pants, beloved?” He rolled the last word around with delight, seeing a delicious shudder wrack through Tom’s form. “Anything to get the stupid things off,” was his response, and Dianite released his hands. Dipping beneath the waist band of his sweats, under his underwear, the fledgling let himself feel the firm ass of Dianite, before pushing the pesky fabrics down the Lord’s knees, where it remained trapped against the bed.

Kicking them off the rest of the way, graciously getting Tom’s boxer’s off the rest of the way, he set about claiming Tom once more. Around his bite marks, now just white scars, but his, he dutifully placed more hickeys on Tom, the paleness of his skin contrasting the deep purples in a way that left a curl of warmth in his gut. “Stop being a tease dammit,” the poor fledgling whined, feeling down the Lord’s arms, fingers catching every curve of his muscles.

Kissing his forehead, Dia mumbled back, “Getting impatient love? We’ll have plenty of time to work out your libido, it’s not like I’m going anywhere.” He drew back, pulling Tom’s hands to his hips. “Explore a little, beloved, you’ll want to get used to this.” Sitting back, settled on the younger’s thighs, he smugly watched the flickering expression of bliss on his face. He knew from past experience that his newest fledglings can’t get enough of the feel of their Sire, and with Tom being his lover, he had no doubt he could feel the resonating happiness at the skin contact.

After he felt Tom had his fill, he shifted back, eliciting a disappointed whine from Tom. Bending down, Dianite licked a stripe along Tom’s dick before he could take in what he was doing. “Son of a-“  the fledgling moaned, jerking his hips upward. With a smirk, the Lord engulfed his full length. The unprepared vampire let out a high-pitched whimper, the warm wetness much more intense than ever before. Pulling himself back up in a slow, drawn out motion, Dia lightly scrapes his teeth against Tom’s dick, receiving delectable moans in return.

“Go faster you ass,” the fledgling breathes, a shudder racing down his spine as the skin hits the air. With a laugh, the Lord obliges, bobbing his head up and down, only breaking his pace to tease the slit of his dick or graze his teeth along the length. When Tom grabs his hair, giving a sharp yank, Dianite gives a quick, hard suck, pushing Tom right over the edge. A broken shout comes from Tom as the Lord swallow every last drop.

Crawling back over Tom, he kisses him deep, the fledgling tasting himself on Dia’s tongue. The Lord pulls away, whispering into Tom’s ear, “Just wait, beloved, that was just the beginning.” Sticking his fingers in Tom’s mouth, he gave a simple command, “Suck.” Spurred on by what he knew was coming, he eagerly slid his tongue around the fingers. Lips wrapped around them, he slathered them well, making sure to give a few good sucks as well. Once satisfied, Dianite pulled them out.

Beyond ready for the next part, Tom spread his legs wide, wrapping them around Dia’s hips. “So impatient, love.” Chuckling, the Lord teased his first finger around his entrance, watching Tom’s cock bring itself up once more. “Dia,” the younger begged, pushing back towards the finger, “Just fuck me dammit.” Inching in aggravatingly slow, Dianite secured one hand on Tom’s waist, keeping him in place.

He set a slow, even pace forward, wiggling the finger a little to get those delicious sounds from Tom, his sensitivity basically tripled. Finally, he curved his finger towards the spot he knew was there, earning a spasm and panting gasps for his efforts. “Do you like that love?” Sending a heated stare down at the Lord, Tom choked out, “Stop being such a stupid fu-ucking tease.” He stuttered mid-sentence and Dia slipped the tip of another finger in, inching it forward.

“Oh, you can’t get enough, can you beloved?” He pushed the finger in farther, scissoring his walls apart, pulling more moans from the young fledgling. “You’re such a slut for me, the way you whined for my attention earlier. The way you want to rock back onto my fingers, you love it.” Tom let out a breathless gasp as another finger pushed into his hole, the stretch a blissful burn. “I bet you can’t wait to have me buried into you, ramming against your sweet spot, our bond singing with pleasure.”

Whimpering, Tom helplessly pleaded with the Lord, “Just fuck me already. Please, please, please.” Rubbing his fingers against his prostate, his eyes darken. “You just want me to slam into you over and, over don’t you? Want to feel the sensation long after I stop, never able to get enough. You want to feel my hands bruise your skin as I spear you down onto me, giving you the best thrusts? Is that what you want beloved?” Tom groaned, biting his lip as his dick strained, “Oh god, yes. Please, please yes. I want you to destroy me, to claim me inside and out.”

Removing his fingers, the Lord decided to be just a little mean. Instead of giving the poor boy what he wanted, he leaned down, probing the stretched entrance with his tongue. Smirking, he dove it in, feeling Tom’s legs, now around his shoulders, squeeze him with the force of his shudder. “You mother-“ he broke with a pant, trying to regain composure, “Why won’t you just get on with it?” He pushed his tongue as far as he could, licking along the path inside, letting out a deep chuckle, feeling the spasms it gave Tom.

“Please, just fuck me. Get your cock inside my ass and fuck me dammmit.” The fledgling, though still on board with the sensations, was so ready to be pounded into the bed. His own dick was proudly at attention, prepared to let loose once more. Obligingly, the Lord pulled his mouth away and lined himself up, drawing Tom’s legs back to his waist.

Without warning, he pushed in, Tom still stretching further around his dick despite the preparations. Pulling the younger back onto him, hands stationed at his hips, he bottomed out, dick throbbing. He came back out slowly, before going back in with a quick snap. Setting the terribly slow pace, he watched Tom come apart with each thrust. The teasingly long pull back rubbed against his walls in lovely friction, but he wanted more.

“T…tease,” he managed to mutter, gasping for air, “Fast…. Faster dammmit.” Dianite, though not one to take orders, was all for increasing pace. He worked himself up, settling into a brutal speed, slamming hard into Tom with each thrust. The fledgling open his mouth to let out choking moans and whimpers, overrun by the pure pleasure. Just from the skin to skin contact, the bond sung with blissful pleasure, any pain overrun by it.

The bed creaked, not used to the full strength of the Lord, who had been scared to break his previously human lover. Now, despite being rather new to this life, he held nothing back against the fledgling, his movements starting to blur in the slightest as he pounded into Tom. The younger clawed at his Sire’s back, nails close to breaking skin, leaving behind fading red streaks.

The Lord paused for the briefest moment to flip the vampire onto his hands and knees, before slamming back in. In no time at all, Tom was forced to his chest, arms caving beneath him. Dick rubbing against the sheets, he came with a screaming moan. He instinctually clenched around Dianite, sending the Lord over after a few more thrusts. Thick, warm spurts dumped into Tom, leaking out around Dianite’s dick.

Just breathing for a moment, the two stayed as they were. Slowly pulling himself out, the Lord gave a final squeeze to Tom’s ass. He got a mumbled, “Really,” in response, to which he rolled his eyes. Flopping down next to Tom, bringing him back into his arms, he idly commented, “We should shower and change the sheets.” From where Tom’s head was snuggled into his chest he heard a faint, “Fuck that shit.”, mirroring his thoughts. They’d have plenty of time to clean up later. And there was no telling if this would be their last round for the night.

(AN: My innocence is officially toast. Not a trace of it left. Actually dead. I say as I have tons of worse smut saved on my wattpad…. Anyway, my first-time writing smut, let me know how I did, unless it sucked. Then just, tell me you like cows, idk. I’ll get the hint lol.)

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 4

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 4/?

AN: Okay, so we actually get to see Tom be a vampire. I think that was the plan for the last one, but then I went off on a tangent that didn’t come back. Also, Tom finds his way outside. How? He’s a sneaky little child. Also, vampires don’t immediately perish in sunlight. Because plot. I will try my best to keep the idea on track (muted laughter as I wonder if that’ll happen)

Chapter 4

Tom was walking on thin ice. Except this situation held almost the opposite situation. He lurked in the shadowed alleyway of an apartment complex, huddled deep into his sweatshirt. (It was Dia’s really, but he had claimed it now). After a lovely experience in the bedroom, Tom stayed awake long enough to smuggle himself out of the building. How no one saw him was a mystery, but he wasn’t going to waste the gift.

As he exited the alley, he shied away from the sunlight. Though he was still rather cold, he knew that longer exposure to sunlight could kill him. Now he’d be pale for the rest of his life. Fuck. Many early morning risers, those ungodly people who take morning jogs or love to see the sunrise gave him strange looks. Honestly, he felt the same about them. But in all fairness, he was some twenty-something year old, buried in an oversized hoodie in rather nice April weather, (somehow not raining), faded black sweatpants, and cringing at the light. He might as well be some college kid hungover, walking home from a party. Except it was Tuesday, and he was walking in the opposite direction of the nearest college.

Really, he shouldn’t be out here. Not only had Mianite tried (? He technically died when becoming a vampire… he’d ask Dia later) to kill him, the sun could actually kill him, and who knows what else might want him dead. And he was super fucking tired, even after doing nothing for two days. But he needed to see his sister, his only family in the city. Either she was going to kill him if he never checked up on her, (they made an agreement to meet every Monday for lunch, because Mondays are horrible. For obvious reasons, he was absent), or his gaming community would for not uploading anything.

Already, he could feel the pinpricks of sunlight burning through his clothes. With a low hiss, he ducked inside the nearest shop, a simple florist. The first thing that hit him was the overpowering smell of flowers, and then the meek air conditioning. The shop attendant, likely just the cashier with the manager in the back, gave a friendly greeting, but sounded as happy to be awake as he was. The clock above their head read 7:48.

Biting back a groan, faintly longing for the coffee the attendant had with them, he idly checked out the flowers. Moving away from the window, he took the time to cool off, hopefully not too charred already. “Anything I can help you with,” the cashier queried half-heartedly, but with an affable smile. Deciding to humor him, the vampire pointed to a collection of flowers. “What meaning do these have?”

According to the labels, he was looking at the red petals of Amaryllis, Aster, and Carnations. “Ah, the Carnations symbolize pride and admiration, as the red variety. The Amaryllis, the more common kind, symbolizes splendid beauty. And the Aster means, um, patience. And elegance too.” The clerk shrugged, his morning haze numbing his memory. Tom wasn’t really that interested, but they were red, and red was Dianite’s color, so why not. He gave a nod to the man behind the counter, “Maybe I’ll come back and get some.” He waved and walked out the store.

Even back out on the street he could smell the flowers. He wondered if he should have picked some up for Alice, as an apology, but she wasn’t really the flower type. Distractedly, he thought of how his friends would take him hours becoming even shittier. It used to be some butchering of going from 2pm to 4am, or something worse. Now he’d just sleep later, or so it seems to be, with how long Dia likes to sleep. And damn, thinking about sleep really made him want to sleep.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Whipping his head to the side, he came face to face with an older lady. “So sorry to bother you, young man,” she began with a hoarse voice, “But would you mind helping me bring these to my home?” Quickly sweeping his eyes over the area, he noticed he had wandered towards the mall, a quaint little collection of buildings snuggled in the middle of a residential area. It was one of the reasons Alice chose to live in this area, the ‘instant access to cool things’.

While there wasn’t many people nearby, there was enough to notice the exchange, and he knew what they expected. Holding back a sigh, he gave a good-natured response of, “Sure, ma’am,” and proceeded to pull a couple of bags from the lady’s cart. (He hadn’t even noticed that, but they were rather small, only from a small grocery store). Hobbling forward, a hand stuck to her right hip, she led him towards her townhouse.

The going was slow, but it gave him time to admire himself in the reflection of the windows they passed. Or rather, the fucking lack of reflection. It was strange to look at. There were no mirrors or overly reflective surfaces back at Dia’s place, so he never noticed that, while vampires don’t show up in mirrors, their clothes do. So, looking back at him was a hoodie and sweatpants somehow carrying bags. But that wasn’t the worst part. He couldn’t see his hair or face. For all he knew, he looked like absolute shit. Potato-y hair, bloodshot eyes, bags, acne spree, who knows what he fucking looked like. At least whatever it was, the old lady wasn’t scared.

He had to cheat a stop with his increased speed (that still gave him trouble), as the lady stopped suddenly. She was smiling back at him, apparently not having noticed that he was staring at his unnatural reflection. Hastily, he turned away from the window, throwing her a sheepish smile. “We’re here dear. Oh, do come in, and I can get you some treats as a reward,” she chirped at him, already up the steps and unlocking the door. Gesturing inside, she waddled in.

Hesitantly, he stood in the doorway. “I don’t think I have the time, I’ll just-” Tom was cut off by his ankles being yanked out from under him. Head slamming against the concrete, he only had time to let out a yelp as the sunlight clawed at his exposed face before he was getting dragged inside. Once he was all the way in the door slammed shut with a harsh shudder. The fledgling desperately clawed at the floor around him, leaving faint scratch marks behind.

The thing on his ankles slid up his legs, a vice like grip holding on to him. Sparing a glance down all he saw was shadowy tendrils, coming from the floor, from the dark corners of the rooms he passed, even from the feet of the old lady. Belatedly, he realized this was a fucking trap. And something in him responded with a wave of force.

Letting out a deep growl, he sunk his claws into the floorboards, resisting the pull. With a yank, he freed one leg, the tendril tightening on the other. “Don’t struggle fledgling,” the demented old lady hissed, “You’ll love the makeover I’ll give you. It’ll be your little reward for helping me and being such a good boy.” Well fuck that, he snarled viscously kicking at the thing wrapping around his leg until it conceded and let go.

Scrambling to his feet, he made an aborted motion towards the front door. The entire exit was swamped in inky blackness. “Now, now, bad boys don’t get rewards dearie.” The creature let out a howl as Tom charged her, ripping through her in an attempt to make for the kitchen window. Bashing the glass in, he dove through the opening, an enraged shriek following his exit. But fuck her if he was looking back now.

Now crammed in the backway between two sets of townhouses, he made a mad dash for the sunlight road on the other side. He picked up his pace as he heard some sort of airy sound coming from behind him, the pitch of a slow leak in a tire. He didn’t want to know what the fuck it was, why it was, or how close it was. Cringing only a little, he barreled into the bright rays, taking off down the sidewalk at a commendable pace, for a human.

He didn’t stop until he was safely in the middle of a sunny park. Settling in the shade of some well-placed trees, he surveyed his surroundings. “Shitty McFuck,” he groaned, letting his head fall back onto the bark. It throbbed without mercy, the brightness around him not helping. He vaguely knew where he was, but the longer he looked at it, the more it felt… off. Where normally, if this was Alice’s neighborhood, there would be people out, maybe some kids skipping school in the park, adults dragging themselves to work, or even some gaddamn squirrels running amok, there was almost nothing. Beyond that one group of joggers, (insane people, who knows what’s wrong with the,), no one was out.

Curling in on himself, he tried to hype himself back up. He’d get to Alice, his boss ass bitch of a sister. His sister, living in this neighborhood. That was acting sketchy, with crazy old ladies with demon powers. Shit, shit, shit. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut. He was super fucking tired, sore, his head hurt like shit, and Alice could be in danger.

An ache had begun to settle in the back of his throat. Irritably opening his eyes, he glanced back over at the moving group of humans. More than ever before, he felt the urge to attack them. Now, it wasn’t just general distaste for their lifestyle. There was a crushing need to get something from them. Burying himself back into his hoodie, he groaned miserably. He was fucking thirsty. (If only there were better people around than the stupid fucking health nuts).

(AN: I think that might’ve stayed on plot… maybe. It feels like I left something out, buuut I kinda need to take a shower and go to bed. Ill figure it out as I lay there, and just face palm. Also, Tom doesn’t know how to use vampy powers yet. So he just uses brute force like always)

[syndianites]

Wrong

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Something was wrong with Dianite. It started with sudden bouts of chaos, not too unusual, but still out of place. Then went 0-100 in the blink of an eye. He viscously attacked his siblings, tried to break Ianite. He was going mad. And it was getting worse.

(AN: Once again, I watched S1 so very long ago, and my memory might be a tad foggy with some details. I was going to write more fluff, but my mind was like “You know the corruption in Mianite Awakening” and I was like, no, don’t go there, and it pulled out a knife and said “DO IT”. So here we are. Somewhat based on Mianite Awakening and partially on @maiatanfallan-arts what-if/headcanon (I swear I’m not stalking your blog…))

 Tom was not scared. He was not intimidated, or feeling oppressed, or even a tiny bit fearful. Fuck no. He was super fucking worried. For a while all was peaceful. After the war, he had started (and kicked ass in), the Purge was put in place to stop any such event from taking place again. Strangely enough, the Purge was the first thing to show something was wrong with Dianite. On a day where rules meant nothing (apart from no killing, still very, very illegal), the zombie would have imagined that the Nether god would have thrived with the bouts of chaos that were unleashed. Instead, as the day came to a close, it seemed to have set him off…… but not in the usual way.

Admittedly, Dianite was the type to destroy things in his rages, needed a physical release for his emotions. This particular Purge day, however, led him to simply… glare. It was strange. Tom could tell he was upset, at what was a mystery. His eyes shone with an inner fire kindled by emotion and the markings along his body were glowing with a bright intensity. According to Furia (who still didn’t like Tom, but they united to assist the angered god) Dia had been standing there for nearly an hour. At one point, he had been so enraged that his horns started to let loose ashes from where they smoldered on the inside. (Tom personally though the demonic glowing was pretty hot, no pun intended, but this was not the time).

With Furia seemingly reluctant to approach the god, Tom took it upon himself to query, albeit a bit wary, as to what ailed him. As he came closer to the seated god, perched upon his throne in an uptight yet mighty fashion, the immortal’s eyes flicked to him. For a moment, the champion was stunned by the pressure hidden in those eyes, as though he was fighting something. (He would later, once he returned to this world, find out that this was the first time Dianite was close to losing against the corruption. The god insists that if he hadn’t walked up when he did, he would have fallen to it, even if only for a moment).

“Dia?” Tom addressed the god with a concerned frown. There was no response beyond a single blink. It was almost as though the god was… trying to recall where he was, what he was doing. The zombie strode closer to him, reaching out to carefully place his hand where it wouldn’t be burnt (Though it was hard to tell with the overall glowing skin). His touch seemed to draw him back, and with a breath, his markings started to fade to their traditional coloring. The Nether god slowly opened his arms, “Come here Tom.” On any other day, he would have bitched about being, well, the god’s bitch, but today was different. Skipping the pointless words, he elected to sink into the god’s lap, snuggling up into his chest and settling down. “Are you alright mate,” Tom asked once they had suitably wrapped around each other. He received no reply. And so, he worried more.

~

The next time was more… subtle, in a way. There were no obvious tells, but he felt something was off. In his recent trek through the Nether (getting more levels for enchanting) the pigmen seemed uncomfortable, the ghasts floating higher in the higher, passing by him with muted whimpers. It was almost as though the realm itself was waiting for something, warily expecting an event. It took a lot of effort not to full out run to Dianite’s personal temple.

Upon arrival the signs became clearer, subtle, but hard for a common guest to miss. The guards hid an anxious look in their eyes, the other passer-byes walked with an uneasy twitch and Furia seemed to be missing. The zombie strode through the corridors with purpose, making a bee-line for Dianite’s pseudo office. (Really, it was the room he pretended to do work in, while listening to the prayers of his scattered following). “Good morning sunshine!” Tom chose to loudly announce his entrance (never knocking, he knew the god could tell he was coming from miles away, but he enjoyed the theatrics) despite it being well past noon in the overworld. The god spared him a glance before returning to his staring contest with some bullshit excuse of a property claim against one of his followers (though he may be terrible with paperwork, or legal problems in general, he could point out the flaws in anyone’s argument, often taking out his opposition through purely undermining their side).

With a huff, Tom continued into the room, pulling wasting no time. “What is wrong?” Just as the time before, Dianite remained off, shoulders tense, face set in a strange stoic expression, and gave no reply. Sighing, the zombie resolutely took vigil on the armrest of Dia’s rather large chair. (When he first got it many of his followers teased him about how it was basically a couch, until he stopped looking at the paperwork of any who referenced it as such. They quickly shut up about it).

As the Nether god leaned back over the papers he was definitely not looking at, Tom took the chance to work out the knots in the gods back. With a firm hand, he worked for at least an hour, before the god pulled him down into his lap, and resumed his ‘work’. They stayed like this for the rest of the day, and the atmosphere seemed to lighten with each passing moment. (The gratitude the god let show in his eyes when he carried his sleepy champion to bed stayed with him in his dreams that night).

~

It was the night of the Ianite reveal. The telling of what Dianite did to her. Her heart, her very soul. Stolen. While the others fretted over their next course of action, Tom fled to the Nether. He had to see his god, needed to know. Why. What brought him to taking such drastic measures, even for their brand of chaos.

The lava world was full of a charged silence. No pigmen were to be found. Ghasts huddled far above, no sounds emitting from them. Blazes were plunged deep into lava lakes. It all felt one push away from snapping. His path to Dianite’s temple was met with no life.

He crept through abandoned hallways, his path to the throne room completely empty. No guards, no fellow followers (though few chose to trek this far regardless), no mobs, just silence. The only sound permeating the thickness of the air was the clack of his shoes on the nether brick. Before him the door to the throne room was cracked open, and gave no resistance when pushed farther.

There, upon the steps before the might chair, sat the Nether god. He was hunched over, a small shaking taking over his frame. He held his head in his hands, curled in on himself. Tom approached him with an uncharacteristic softness. “Dia?” he called out to the god.

There was no response until he was knelt before him. “What did I do,” he immortal whispered brokenly, “What did I do?” He had no answer that would help, nothing to say to make this better. The god lifted his head. For a moment, Tom was taken aback by how much his eyes had changed. They were shadowed, lacking the fire they often sported, and something swam beneath them, something new. And in that instance, Tom knew, no matter what anyone said, that something was wrong with his god, had been for a while now. It was then he doubted if Dianite even knew what was wrong.

Wordlessly Tom wrapped his arms around the god, offering the one comfort he could give. He rested his cheek on his head, brushing against his horns, and gently rocked him. They stayed like that for hours. (And if Dianite had let himself cry, sob wretchedly into Tom’s chest, the evidence was gone by the time the zombie had to leave, managing to arrive late to the meeting set by the heroes, but leave far too early from comforting his forsaken god).

(AN: This was SUPOSSED TO BE FLUFF. Why am I so terrible? I’m not  sure if I did the event justice ,as I was too lazy to look up the video to see how it really played out, but my main intent was to capture the guilt Dianite felt, so I guess it worked. I am a sucker for s1 Dianite actually being a good guy, just influenced for corrupted)

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 2

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 2/?

AN: Still too lazy to make a new summary for each chapter. Whoops. I’ve spent the entire day off sleeping and playing Minecraft. It’s weird not having something to do. My online class is done, no camp today, no work today. It was n i c e. Now to the fic!

Chapter 2

Though the night was over and the sun had begun its ascension, many vampires mulled about. Most found themselves carefully reconstructing their office, deeming what was salvageable and what needed to be replaced. Amidst these people were ones scouring through information, from paperwork, from video feeds, from supposed sightings, anything the internet could provide. Each had one purpose: find Mianite or one of his lackeys. And for their Lord, and even their own personal grudges, they were determined to do so.

Furia, the Head Advisor to the Lord, was overseeing this operation. Between hunting down the filthy Mianitees mere hours before, and working through the chaos and daylight hours, he was fucking exhausted. And the ones he was watching and, at times, helping, were coming up with nothing. Even the part of the city Dianite had handed over was untouched by the insolent faction. Instead, something rather… peculiar was taking place. The humans were changing.

The particular district he was observing was a quieter townhouse block. Many families lived there, with young and older children, elderly living the rest of their lives in peace, and even the impoverished made up one section of the neighborhood. (Dianite had assigned people to look into support systems for them, claimed that no potential child of his was to be forced to survive under such horrendous conditions. Furia assumed that meant he felt bad for the humans). Where they would naturally have been out and about, the children being herded off to school in a stout bus packing to the brim, adults prepping themselves up for another shift at work, and the elderly taking their positions on the front porch to call across the street to each other the latest gossip, few were up.

Today, a handful of kids meandered over their bus stops, seemingly dazed, as though they had not slept enough. Most of the adults seemed to stare listlessly at their breakfast, the TV, their cars. Even the elderly, somehow energetic for their years, were startlingly quiet. Upon closer look, they almost appeared… paranoid? Some of those who were delighted to waddle out to their porched and checked it with a quick glance before locking their doors, keen on simultaneously appearing to be absent of their homes, while having every light on. This was in no way normal for their humans.

The Advisor was unnerved, so to speak. These developments meant more to him than the others, who were still searching for Mianite. His Lord shared many secrets with him, including the growing threat of The Shadows. The first time he had heard of them was when one of their own, who had chosen to vacation beyond the city, mentioned the strange corruption he had seen in towns he had passed. Others in their group, the young vampire had recounted, spoke of these strange shadows creeping into their homes. The only reason most had noticed them was due to the general avoidance the strange intruders had towards fire. With most of Dianite’s following harboring some sort of pyrokinesis, this information was confirmed by many sources.

So far, the people they had watching its movement, (just two, for the sake of simplicity, and to keep the information closer at hand), found that it could not corrupt their group. They theorized that the presence of pyrokinesis in the following, essentially an inner fire for each vampire, kept the shadows at bay when they came too close. However, it could easily take anyone who was either unaware, or not ‘strong’ enough to counteract it. They had yet to discover what you had to have strength in, watching both the smallest of children and the largest of adults resist the change. So far, only a measly 2% managed to evade corruption.  And if the symptoms they described in the people fighting the corruption were universal, Furia found that this district was falling to it.

“Keep searching. If you don’t find anything in,” he spared a glance at the closest clock, reading 7:42 am, he continued, “say, the next hour and 45 minutes, go rest. We can have someone fill in if we are in such need.” With a small bit of grandeur, Furia strode from the room, calling the elevator. The ride to the next floor was silent and tense. Though he stewed in the implications of this recent development, he wasn’t sure how far it would go.

As the elevator doors opened, Furia could feel a rise in temperature. He wasn’t surprised. He had seen the turning of many fledglings, and they each found solace in both the presence of their lord, and heat. This could commonly be attributed to the instilling fire powers most, if not all, came into. He had a feeling, with Tom, it would be a bit different. And lo and behold, he was right.

Where a typical fledgling would be fidgety, itching to test new abilities and explore, Tom stayed nestled up against Dianite, nosing along his jaw and almost purring, however that worked. The Lord, though he had his lover secured rather well on his lap, was conducting his own investigation of Mianite’s whereabouts, his eyes glowing with telltale distance. It was likely he was communicating through one of his subjects with an outside source. He would put some money on the contact being his sister and Lady Ianite of the North. (The south was mostly divided between the three, with a middle portion remaining the most neutral place).

He took the moment to plop down in an armchair next to the loveseat they were sprawled in. Knowing Dia was aware of his presence, he leaned his head back with a tired groan. Eyes closed, he blanked out for what felt like minutes, but was, in reality, a solid twenty minutes.

“Furia?” He peeked one eye open begrudgingly, looking over at the Lord. He was facing the Advisor, giving his full attention, with the exception of having pulled Tom down to curl up against his chest. The groggy vampire began without holding back, “We have yet to find any trace of Mianite.” Based on the irritated look he received Dianite held no information on his brother either. “However, I noticed on particular problem: The shadows have made a move into our territory.

Though the Lord kept any emotion from his face, Furia could tell by the way he pulled Tom impossibly closer that this greatly worried him. He was silent for a moment, before beginning his querying, “How far?” Furia recounted what he had seen, giving him the comparison between the feed and what their lookouts had seen previously. “Bring the Modesteps back in. We’ll need anything new they have gathered,” the Lord ordered, adding as a last thought, “We’ll have to add more people to the watch. How are we faring at the moment?” Furia looked Dianite dead in the eye. “I feel like I pranced through the daylight in nothing but a bikini and then decided to let myself be run over by a steamroller. Everyone looks like a goddamn zombie.” He broke off with a bright smile. “We’re doing just peachy, thank you. Everything will be better when we have Mianite’s head on a silver platter.” With a flourish, he stood once more, ignoring the dizziness that poked at him. “We’ll live. Just don’t let Tom leave the building. We can take care of most of this for the time being.”

Before Furia left the room, the Lord shouted one thing after him, “Don’t fucking overwork yourselves! Just because you all love working your asses off, it doesn’t mean I want to walk down and see a bunch of children passed out on the floor.” And then he found his way to the elevator, preparing himself to relay his newest instructions.

~

Ianite knew her brothers had problems. She had seen the petty squabbles they initiated, how they tirelessly found new ways to fuck each other over. But she had long since deemed significant others off bounds. Of the few times she stepped in to keep the city intact, the bloodiest was by far the one time one of their lovers was involved. It had been Miante’s second vampire partner, Jessica. Though Ianite was never particularly fond of her, the lust for power in her eyes always present, the Western Lord was enthralled by her. Her beauty, her grace, her easy manipulation, it was nothing in the face of battle. As she foolishly charged Dianite, confident in her ability to take him, she was cut through like paper. Her body had hit the floor in two parts, the upper portion of her body, missing parts of her arms, and the rest of it, with two stretched out hands flopped to the ground uselessly.

She had barely been able to end Mianite’s rage as he tore at their brother, one of the closest times Dia had come to losing more than the fight. After that, she instilled one of her first rules: Do not attack each other’s lovers. So, when she heard the deafening screeches ringing through the city, she did not immediately assume Tom had been assaulted. As a coppery smell found its way into her nest, she had not figured out that Dianite was forced to take the one action he feared would lose him his lover. When she approached her window to see the signs of death far off into the West, she failed to notice the darkness crawling into the East.

When Antony Grager, Dianite’s emergency correspondent for contacting the other siblings, apparated before her, she had been prepared for terrible news, not the worst. She was desperate to believe Mianite wouldn’t go to such measures, especially when the two hadn’t been at odds in the last month. Tom was one of her favorites, of all of Dianite’s significant others. Though he always tried to be some sort of gentleman around her, he won her over by his goofiness and sheer force of will. At one point, he had convinced a startling amount of her following that he was a vampire capable of withstanding the sun’s rays without receiving terrible injury.

As she learned more about the situation, about what happened to Tom, she worried for him. Humans all reacted to turning differently, though more positively the more they wanted it. But at one point, either wanting it too much, or absolutely rejecting the idea, it breaks their mind, leaving them a psychotic shell of themselves. There was no way to know what frame of mind the human had been in, what frame of mind he was in now. Sending her thoughts to her spy, she tried to quell her anxieties. Dianite had asked her to locate Miante, and for Tom, she was willing to step out of her neutrality once more.

~

Darry Adam Ranger was a single father, working two jobs to raise his precious baby girl, Alexa. He worked the morning shift at a small corner side dinner called Sally’s Sandwhiches, and the afternoon shift at West Side Bowling. His life was far from glamourous, but coming home to see his darling daughter’s face, bright, healthy, and happy, was the highlight of his day.

Today, however, he couldn’t shake the sense of dread within him. The regulars to the Saturday morning brunch did not show, a nice family of two elderly women and their darling grandson. Though his parents were moved out of the city, he always made time for them, to catch up. None of them showed. Even his unrealistically happy manager, Susan, was off her game today. Her chipper attitude was replaced by snapping commands and irritated scowls.

So, when the man made his way home for lunch break, he was not ready to see Mary, his lovely neighbor and babysitter, who refused to be paid, sitting anxiously at his steps. With panicked, she rushed over to him, prattling on about how, “There’s a demon inside! He snatched Alexa, and John, and locking them in. I can’t get into my house, or yours, and I don’t know if they’re alive.” Without a thought, he jammed his key into the lock, wrenching the door open.

“Alexa,” he called out, “Alexa!” Maneuvering around the house, he finally came face to face with the door leading to her room. He shoved it open, prepared to attack whoever threatened his baby girl, when all he saw was her, sitting innocently on the floor. Sighing with relief, he bends down to pick her up, just about to yell back to Mary that Alexa is safe, but John wasn’t there, when he was thrown back. Eyes wide, he scrambled up to see an inky blackness pouring from his girl, a wail erupting from the merged figures. Faster than he could blink, it launches forward, clawing at his face and pushing down his mouth. As it starts to pour around his eyes, he blacks out. Minutes later, as his eyes are opened once more, it is not Darry Ranger who returns to consciousness.

(AN: I was trying so hard not to lose what i was writing, as i was rather....... distracted XD Its sooooo worth it though. I swear, all I can think about now is pure smut. Its a blessing and a curse)

[syndianites]

Cold

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: The Heroes often wonder how Tom doesn't sweat a second death in the dark suit he always wears (he wonders when they'll figure out he has more than one). In reality, it's not that he has a high tolerance for heat, but rather he is always cold.

AN: One of my head canons is that since Tom is a zombie, he has the whole ‘body-doesn't-naturally-function’ thing, meaning his body doesn't keep itself warm. This leads to many cuddles.

An unexpected heat wave had hit the land of Mianite, and the residents were feeling it. While the priest and his companion worked hard to set up a cooling system for their place (a system that utilized the natural ocean breeze), the rest of the inhabitants tried many things to stay cool.

Tucker had taken to removing almost all of his clothes (he wanted to take them all off, but he did have a sense of modesty), Sonja elected to don a bikini and start working on her tan (her foxy appendages made it an interesting struggle to have even line), Jordan was trying the temperature of the ocean water, and Tom was, surprisingly, perfectly fine in his suit. (Meanwhile, the Modesteps had long since decided to hold on all out war in a snowy biome, hunting down Nade to participate).

As he watched Jordan steadily move farther into the ocean waves, Tom came upon a brilliant idea. Eying Tucker, who was making his way from his house, looking appreciatively at his girlfriend’s figure, he waited for the perfect moment. When the Mianitee was turned away from him, Tom took off. Bending down a tad, he scooped Tucker’s legs out from under he him, and bolted for the water.

“What the shit Tom!” Was followed by a girly shriek as he was unceremoniously chucked into the waves. There was a round of laughter as the salty champion resurfaced, and Jordan, standing nearby, splashed water at him.

The Mianite champion glowered at the zombie. “You know what this means guys,” Sonja called from where she sat, “Beach party! Alright Tom, start stripping.” Tom gave a face of mock horror. “I'll have you know I only give a strip tease to the top quality of people. And Tucker is far below that line.”

Sonja sent him a flirty wink and wiggled her eyebrows, “So you have nothing against giving Jordan one?” The Ianitee joined in, “Yeah Tom, show me some skin.”

Tom sensually unbuttoned his jacket, wiggling his eyebrows, before bursting into giggles. He continued to strip like a normal person, leaving his clothes in the grass, (they'd wrinkle, but he had other suits). After his little show, he turned a mischievous smirk to Sonja. “Oh, no. Her eyes widened. “I will not go down like Tucker!” She jumped up and ran with a laugh, Tom pursuing her. (At the end of the day, when they were all exhausted and holed up with Dec and Champwan, Tom would cringe at the unnoticeable burns he'd gotten, his zombie skin sensitive to the rays. And despite the sting, he'd still wish for it to be warmer).

~

And just like the whim of the gods, the weather made a sudden and drastic change. From the sweltering, blistering heat, erupted a powerful, fully natural storm. (Though Dec had laughed at the drenched warriors that had drug themselves over to his home, having known that the storm was coming, and prepared for flooding).

So barely a day after their joyful beach party, (where Tucker finally became something more than salty; sandy), everyone was huddled safely under an awning overlooking the land. “Now it won't be so hot,” Jordan commented placidly, shedding his jacket.

From where Tom sat shivering under a blanket, having shed all of his clothes, (he had loaned a pair of pants from the priest), was rather disappointed by this statement. “As long as it isn't super fucking cold I suppose,” he muttered, barely audible. Tucker just snorted, while Sonja gave an agreeing nod. “Ugh, I may be a foxy lady,” she wiggles her eyebrows at the statement, “but I don't like it when it's cold and rainy.” Tucker opened up his arms invitingly, but Sonja just gave a look of distaste at his still wet clothing, and took the shirt Dec offered her and went to change instead.

The Mianitee champion just looked after her with a small pout. “ I just want to know how our houses, mostly stationed higher than Dec’s, got flooded, when his didn't?” He raised an eyebrow at the priest. He just smiled back at him, shrugging. Jordan gave his two cents. “Well, obviously, he just wanted an excuse to see us more, so he asked Mianite to flood our houses.”

Tom took the opportune chance to exclaim, “#BlameDec!” Said person sent the zombie a look, “I could always take back those pants.” Like a mature adult, Tom flipped him off.

They all sat there for a while, chatting and catching up, despite being together all of yesterday. The only time they moved was when the wind pushed the rain towards them. It was peaceful. (Tom would later look back on this moment, after all the shit they went through, and wonder where they went wrong).

Now they were all talking about checking out their houses, since the rain had puttered down to a sprinkle, to see the damage. Tucker groaned about getting wet again and Sonja made a job at him about it was one of the few times he'd get her wet. That was when a better idea struck Tom.

“Hey Dec,” he voiced to the priest, “ Do you still have that Nether Portal in here?” He received a nod in answer. The zombie got up with a smug look on his face. “Well, bitches, seems like I get to have a nice, dry, warm walk home. Tell me how the rain is Mr. Boner.” The Mianitee flipped him off and Jordan laughed at the Dianitee’s cheeky grin as he scampered away, blanket curled around him like a cloak.

Tom had plans of going home, of course, but he was all too happy to make a detour first. And it seems that it was greatly sanctioned. For hardly a second after the zombie stepped out on the other side of the portal he found himself far from it.

“You do know that you left your suit at the priest’s house?” Was the first thing he heard as the world came back into focus. Standing before him was none other than Dianite, holding out a large t-shirt and fluffy sweat pants. (Despite his general preference for less covering clothing, the god did own a wardrobe full of clothes mortals would wear. He refuses to admit that he acquired most of them for Tom).

As Tom dropped the blanket he was looked over by the god (he had no sense of shame in this regard). Dia gently traced his fingertips over the sunburns mostly running across the zombie’s upper back and shoulders. “I could have kept you from burning,” the god’s eyes met with his, “Had you told me you'd be trying to drown your friends without a shirt on.” He need on a teasing note.

Brushing his fingers back over them, he healed them, leaving no scars on the smooth skin. The champion just shrugged, before giving the god a wink. “But then what excuse would I have to come see you?” Rolling his eyes, Dianite turned around and motioned for the zombie to put on the fresh clothes. “We both know you could waltz in here saying you were bored and no one would question you,” he replied, as his beloved had done that on numerous occasions.

“No underwear in this stack, got some plans for this visit?” Dianite didn't need to turn around to know he was receiving a suggestive raised eyebrow. Shaking his head, the god simply told him to put his damn clothes on.

“I'm cold.” The god turned back to face the zombie, who had his arms open, making grabby hands at him. (And he was willing to admit that he much preferred seeing his clothes on Tom, rather than Declan’s). He let his eyes take another sweep up and down Tom’s figure (who defiantly noticed, judging by the faint pink coloring his cheeks), and picked the zombie up. He teleported them to the cushioned window seat set up in his room, and they snuggled up comfortably into each other.

They spent their time like that for the rest of the overworld day and well into the night, his champion occasionally asking questions. (“Did you cause that storm?” He laughed, “Not all weather phenomena are because of the gods.” A pause. “Did you flood my house?” The god gave his zombie a sheepish expression, “Maybe.” Face firmly squished into the immortal’s warm chest, Tom half heartedly mumbled, “Bastard.”).

Once the Tom finally fell asleep, the god moved them to his bed, curling protectively around his beloved. (And despite the lack of need to sleep, he stayed there until he woke in the morning, answering the prayer’s his other followers sent at the odd hours of the night. Their morning was spent with more cuddling and pushing off work).

(AN: I just feel the need to apologize for any typos or bad grammar. I wrote this on my phone, in the car. The island I was staying at had a power outage, so 9,00 people had no power, which meant there was no wifi. And of course, I haven’t installed tumblr mobile, (and was afraid my phone would die), so I couldn’t get on until I got home today. Literally just recently got home. So that’s my excuse for not posting, if anyone out there missed my spamming of this ship XD) 

[syndianites]

Nurse Dianite

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Tom keeps getting hurt. His injuries don’t stop him from pursuing more stupid ideas. At one point, Dianite had to put his foot down.

AN: Hmm, I’m still trying to write Graveyard, but first, let me scroll through Tumblr, think of ten other fic ideas, draw, play blightfall, and let’s just go ahead and write a different fic. I don’t know why I can’t write the darn fic, it just teased me, and then ran away laughing. ALSO. This is early-ish season 1. Pre-purge. That was the only way I could make this make sense in my mind. I don’t even know my own timeline at this point. I mostly try to keep it up in the air, letting some details stay vague enough to refer to more things (houses, layout, etc). I’m thinking of adding a purge fic though.

 Tom’s revival wasn’t perfect. His heart had to be removed, the organ damaged beyond reasonable repair (Dianite could easily fix it, though there would be much more work in having the body accept the altered part. It was easier to forgo it, instead giving him a non-beating ‘heart’). Semi-vital connections in his body were incomplete, nerves didn’t fire as often, his senses weren’t as strong as the average human’s (Though his eyes remained sharp, often seeing people far outside the natural eye sight of humans. Writing words and reading them were harder though, in part due to the concussion he received before he died that festered over years, and in part due to his native language being different from the one he most often came across.), and his impulses held a tendency to fire faster than his logic and reasoning. (That, however, was debatably not a side-effect of the zombified injuries that remained unhealed, as he was known to act before he thought even as a human.)

The zombie never advertised these facts, preferring to keep his ‘weaknesses’ to himself. (One could argue that they weren’t weaknesses, but rather proof he was stronger than the death that tried to keep hold on him). This lead to him gaining injuries neither he nor anyone else noticed, the natural pain receptors failing to angrily notify him of the agony.

Today carried one such instance. The chaos champion had been making a tactical retreat (He muttered under his breath about Jardon grassin on him again, that little bitch.) when he miss threw one of his ender pearls. Instead of the lofty arc he had intended, it was launched at a nearly horizontal angle into the side of a cliff. This ended with him falling to the ground in a jumbled mess, body still buzzing with the sting of ender teleportation. At hearing Tucker’s laugh, he rapidly launched another pearl, and kindly flipped the Mianitee off.

He continued to flee, trying to throw the Mianitees off his trail, (In reality, Jordan was the closest to getting him, having downed a swiftness potion), flinging ender pearls in a mixture of airy lobs and beelining whizzing. As he widened the gap between them, he noticed a strange clicking sound. It stayed in time with his footsteps, and was vaguely reminiscent of a skeleton walking. The zombie couldn’t place the noise, but as he slowed the sound settled to a faint click. With a shrug, he wrote it off as him popping his hip bone in his earlier mistakes (His joints seemed to enjoy jumping from their places from time to time, finding ways to dislocate, which never really hurt, or pop in various situations). That was his first mistake.

~

Later that day he found himself back in the danger zone, bored. The aggravating sound was only noticeable in the silences brought by lack of companionship, and he knew exactly who could make that better. “Sparklez,” the zombie yelled out as he passed the priest’s house, on his way to the Ianitee’s home, “1v1 me!” The Captain heaved a sigh as the calls for battle drew closer. He knew the green man wanted to enact some sort of revenge for assisting the Mianitees in hunting him, but honestly, he was overpowering him.

“Why though,” he shouted out a reply from his balcony, resigned to the zombie’s pestering. This seemed to be the wrong approach, as it encouraged Tom further. “Because snitches get stitches!” He worked his way up the hill, a slight limp in his right leg. As Jordan inspected him closer, he assumed the zombie wasn’t aware he was doing it. It must have been an older injury, mostly healed, but enough to cause minute trouble. If the fight went south, that would be his opening. The Ianitee groaned as he begrudgingly realized he more or less accepted the invitation to duel. (Later, when he had seen Tom in better condition, he’d think back to his earlier observations. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but certainly not correct).

Just as Tom waltzed up to the Casa de Sparklez it’s resident walked out, suited up in his enchanted diamond armor. The zombie was sporting similar attire, though his set look a tad worse for wear. He grinned excitedly, though it came across more as devilish. (Jordan found himself making many comparisons to demonic figures when it came to Tom. In his head at least, the zombie seemed to embody chaos, even in his tamer moments). “Well, you sausage, we gonna do this or what?” He impatiently shifted onto his left leg, a potion gripped between slender fingers.

“Let’s do this.” He launched forward, no making the mistake of letting his agile opponent get the first hit. His sword whipped through the air where the Dianitee once stood, and he made a follow up in a fluid movement. Though his goddess represented peace, he knew he had to keep his combat skills sharp for when said peace was forcefully disrupted.

“Wait, shit!” Tom back peddled, stumbling when the next strike skidded against his chest plate. “Let me pot up dammit.” The Ianitee just chuckled, continuing his assault. “Now why would I do that,” he teased the zombie, who both narrowly dodged another blow and knocked back what seemed to be a strength potion. “Bitch,” the zombie bit out in good nature, flicking his blade at his attacker with the flick of his wrist. It chipped into his shoulder, digging into the armor in a shallow scrap. Then it burned, a fire spreading from the scratch with an added push breaking his balance. Fire aspect and knockback. In close quarters, especially with Tom’s quick and brutal attacking style, this could turn the tide in the zombie’s favor in an instant.

The hit took a staggering amount of damage, despite the remote location it was in. But the captain knew giving the Dianitee any opening would result in his loss, so he reciprocated the blow, taking advantage of the closeness his opponent set up. Though his sword lacked the extra damage Tom’s fire ascpect gave, his sharpness V, that he lucked upon, coupled with a measly knockback I would push for his favor if he played it well. As the zombie was forced back, he dove in for another hit. To his surprise, Tom pivoted around him, and from the sound of it, downed another potion.

(The zombie had learned that from Furia, having been on the receiving end one too many times. He was also accustomed to ducking between people’s legs, Furia once more, twisting a swing into another direction last second, Furia again, and was capable of fighting off someone behind him by purely feeling where there movements were going, thanks Furia.)

Jordan tried to turn before he was attacked, but Tom was quicker on the uptake. With inhuman speed (he had definitely taken a speed potion) he aggressively cut into the weaker points in his armor, drawing blood. (Though the zombie was vicious, he always made sure to keep his cuts shallow, whenever they sparred). With a curse, Jordan tried to regain his bearings, the fire creeping out from around the wound once more along with a staggering push. In a moment of weakness, he played dirty. Despite his shaky balance, he thrust his leg out, planting his foot against Tom’s right knee. The resulting screech was unexpected.

The Dianitee collapsed heavily onto his left side, barely avoiding skewering himself. He curled around his leg, seized in delayed agony. His hands hovered just above his shin, shaking. Jordan froze in shock for a moment. On one hand, the green man was known to play tricks to catch his more compassionate opponents off guard. On the other, the sheer anguish on his face belied his sincerity. He dropped to the ground next to him in an instant, fingers delicately tracing down from his knee. Though there were no protrusions from the leg, as he brushed over the middle of his shin the man convulsed, his leg only kept still by Jordan’s steadying hand above his knee.

“Shit,” the Ianitee cursed. “This is bad,” he mumbled to himself as Tom struggled to keep his breathing even. (This was not his first time fighting such pain, Furia had inflicted many harsh wounds in their previous sparring, though Dianite was always present to patch it up). Biting his lip, the Ianite champion looked over to the priest’s house, over the hill, but still far enough away. Declan was the only official healer of the land, both a neutral force and a well-informed one.

“I’m sorry Tom.” Was the only warning given to the injured man as he was lifted into strong arms. His leg jostled and another wave of pain raced up his leg. “Fuck,” he moaned, face going pale. “Hang in there buddy. Dec’ll fix you up. Promise. We just have to get over this hill, and it’ll get better.” Jordan continued to keep with the encouragement, focusing on getting his violent friend to medical help.

Dec was quick to assess the situation and act. His first order was to lay Tom on the single spare bed he had (he was still undergoing renovation), and to remove his pants as carefully as possible, as he went to get supplies. After removing the zombie’s shoes, Jordan worked on his pants, cringing at each choked whimper (even now, the Dianitee tried his best to remain strong), every gasp. For a moment, he wondered if he was feeling Tom’s pain. (It was ridiculous, but hearing and seeing the pain his friend was in gave him phantom vibes).

After painstakingly removing the garment, Tom rest on the bed breathing hard. Declan returned with a stranger in tow, not bothering introductions. For a moment, the strange dark-skinned male leveled a heated look at the Ianitee, his eyes a bright hazel that flashed a pure golden hue, before he centered his attention on the injured zombie. His face twisted into concern.

With a nod to Dec, he lightly pushed against Tom’s shin, receiving a groan in response. After poking at it for a moment, he relayed his observations, “Fractured tibia, a rough break that created a couple of separate pieces.” The priest considered this, before turning to Jordan. “This is a…. friend of mine. His name is D… Damien, and he is more medically proficient than myself. I suppose he’ll need to set the bone, and if it’s bad enough go through with surgery. We’ll want to give him space.” He wasted no time in dragging Jordan from the room. He managed one last glance before the door was shut.

~

“You are such a fucking dumbass.” The deep growl prompted Tom to open his eyes. Before him, the cinnamon hue to ‘Damien’s’ skin warped into a garnet splendor. The excess clothing dissipated in a cloud of smoke, freeing the figure to rise in height. With a final cracking of two horns curling from his head, Dianite stood before the zombie in his full glory.

“Well,” the champion quipped, “I’m your dumbass.” The god gave him an unamused look, clearly unimpressed by the tightness in his voice and the pinch of his lips. Dia took a proper look at the wounded mortal, sweat glistening on his skin, an attempted smile that appeared more as a grimace, his general lack of pants. With a wave of his hand the rest of his clothes were removed. (Though he let him keep his underwear for sake of modesty, he didn’t see the point. Nothing he hadn’t seen before).

“So, here’s what we are going to do,” Dianite began, maintaining eye contact with the pained man, “I will let your leg heal at an accelerated pace. In exactly twenty-four hours, it will be fully healed, all your bones set in place. Before you spout your entitlement,” Dia leaned closer into Tom’s personal space, “This is to punish you. Had you decided to be more aware, and not simply write off your injury, for your friend could not have snapped your leg in such a way, likely from your earlier escape, you could have treated this before it became painful.” He quieted for a moment, considering something. “In a way, however, your lack of pain in your retreat ultimately led you to safety, so it wasn’t completely bad. Tomorrow, you can tell your friend that you prayed for healing.”

He rolled his shoulders, before falling back into his human disguise with a series of pops and grunts. “For now, I’ll be moving you from here. If any are to ask, you were taken to a ‘more equipped site’ for better medical attention.” The god smoothly picked Tom up, carefully cradling his injured leg away from him. Toeing open the door, he was met with Dec, who gave a nod of respect. Though no words were exchanged, the zombie got the feeling the priest was aware that the one carrying him was in fact Dianite. (Later, he would learn Dec had called for him upon perceiving the injury to be severe. He was suspicious of whether the priest knew of their special relationship).

~

The first reaction Furia had was to laugh. He was on his way to give his lord information on potential new recruits when he stepped into the throne room. Before him sat his lord, of course, but with one unhappy, blanketed zombie settled sideways across his lap. The god’s arms were firmly wrapped around his waist, and his tail seemed to have snuck around one of his thighs. From where his chin rested on top of his head any one could see the smug smirk clearly. He decided to better of laughing.

“Milord,” the fire demon spoke, “I have the profiles you were asking for.” He eyed the couple for a moment, before letting an amused expression filter across his face. “I suppose I could leave it in your office, if you’re busy.” The champion fidgeted in his seat as the god responded, “Nonsense, I will view them here. It will be good practice for Tom to know who best fits my army. He will, after all, be leading a branch.” With a nod, Furia waltzed up to Dianite and handed over the documents. “If that is all, I have other matters to attend to.” Dia snorted, before dismissing him, “Yes, that’ll be all. You can attend to your garden now.” Glowering at the god, the fiery being stalked off.

“You know what,” Tom spoke up as he shifted in the god’s lap again, “Fuck you. I cannot just sit here all fucking day!” Mumbling, he added, “No matter how comfortable you fucking are.” Dianite hummed, lifting an arm, still tucked around Tom, to better see the documents, “No dear, I fuck you. As if you could top me.” The zombie spluttered, a blush rising to his cheeks. Turning his face into his chest, he sulkily muttered, “Why do you have to be a bitch all the time.”

(The god retorted, that Tom was in fact, his bitch, and he wanted to pray for the day to pass by faster. At the same time, he was just a little content here, in the arms of his lover)

(AN: That was longer than I thought it would be! I was working on finishing it last night, but it was 1 in the morning, again, and I needed to go to bed. I’m glad that the idea didn’t run dry though, I was afraid if I left it, I wouldn’t know where to go with it. *eyes Graveyard fic* Yes, I’m very happy I knew where to go with this.)

[syndianites]

Hickey

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Tucker the Fucker points out a interesting looking ‘bruise’ on the side of Tom’s neck

AN: Sometimes I rhyme things with Tucker’s name, and laugh to myself. Thus, Tucker the Fucker. I do like him, it's just too easy to make fun of him

Tom stirred slightly at a light tickling sensation at his neck. Normally, he would have either panicked or pulled out a sword at such a thing (even for a mosquito), but this case was different. With strong arms wrapped around him and warm settled deep into his bones, he knew he was safe.

A deep chuckled sounded next to his ear, as light kisses were placed on the tickling spot on his neck. “Go back to sleep, beloved.” Having pulled an allnighter the day before, the zombie was in no mood to say no to such temptation. Snuggling farther in his god, he thought little of the tickling resuming on his neck. (Later, he would try to decide if this was a regrettable choice or not).

~

He wasn't sure who saw it first, but at some point there were muted whispers going around among his friends. It was starting to irritate him. When one of them snickered, pointing in his direction, he finally snapped, “What are you going on about over there?”

Silence was his answer. His eyes narrowed into a glower. After a moment more of silence, Tucker finally stepped up to present their question. “So Tom,” the Mianitee couldn't help his smirk, “We couldn't help but notice you have an interesting bruise on your neck.”

Now Tom was confused. He patted at his neck, searching for the mentioned mark. And there, upon the left side, he felt a raised part of the skin, that felt suspiciously like a small bite.

“When we looked closer,” Tucker continued, “Sonja said it looked very similar to a hickey.” He finished with a smirk on his face.

Tom blanked for a moment, as he hadn't gone that far in intimacy yet, and couldn't think of when he have gotten one. Then it hit him. That bitch. (And by the resounding laugh on his head, he knew he was right).

So the zombie said the first thing that came to mind, “Jealous that I got laid and you didn't?” At the Mianite champion’s blush and outraged expression, Tom found himself wearing a smug look.

While her boyfriend struggled for a response, Sonja was quick with the follow up, “Who was it? It's so Jordan isn't it. This little lair.” There was mischief in her eyes, and for a second he wondered if she knew. (She had a hunch, but was hoping Syndisparklez was a go. She would find out much later, that her first guess was right).

Jordan, on the other hand, spluttered out a response, “I did not.” He turned his reddened cheeks away. “I don't even know how,” he muttered, keeping his attention elsewhere. That was when Tucker focused back in. “We should teach you how,” he winked at Sonja, “We can give him a front row seat.”

For his part, Jordan only responded like any normal person would. He groaned, “With that, I'm out.” And proceeded to walk home, probably to work on his vault, the nerd.

Tucker rolled his eyes and turned to Sonja, “How bout it?” Before she could respond, Tom cut in, “Please, we both know you're the bottom bitch.” For the second time during the conversation, the Mianitee was left speechless, an affronted expression painting his features. Sonja have the zombie a high five, and drug her stunned lover away.

~

The zombie now stood before a mirror, checking out the mark. It was placed in the perfect position, nestled right above his collar, in a spot clearly visible, but only to someone standing reasonably close. Despite the couple hours ago he had left the temple, it remained a deep, dark purple. He was a little impressed.

“Aw, do you like it?” The teasing voice came from the doorway. The god was leaned against the wall, a smug grin adorning his features as he eyed his handiwork. “I worked on that for a while. You woke up once, before I got you to go back to sleep.”

The champion poured at the god. “I'm a little upset that I get my first hickey, and I'm asleep through it.” He totally didn't think it was hot. Nope.

Dianite straightened in a fluid motion. With purposeful strides, he pinned the mortal to the sink. “Is that an invitation for another? It sure seems like it.” Tom stuck his younger out as a response, in which the god did the most reasonable action: he lightly bit it.

From there, it turned into a bruising kiss, the god dominating his zombie’s mouth. He broke it off, Tom gasping for air, cheeks flushed, and started kissing down the opposite side of his neck.

(He proceeded to drag out the process, making it sensual and adding just a little bit of grinding. Then, when his beloved was all hot and bothered, he took him out to a nice lunch, where Tom shifted uncomfortably and glared at the god for the full duration)

[syndianites]

The Consequences of Your Actions Chapter 1

@maiatan-fallan @syndcates @theshadowlord

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: Vampire AU! Dianite has had many lovers over the years. Some were mere playthings, meant to pass the time. Others were passionate loves, a fire raging until their inevitable demise. Very few were of the immortal variety, most searching for a power grab, others enthralled by his image. One was different, one was special. And he’d be damned if he was going to let him slip away.

Chapter: 1/?

AN: I had such great inspiration for this during band camp, so many places to go with it. I got home, got settled on my laptop. Nothing. I swear to you, I simply didn’t retain any of it. (I blame that stupid econ final I had to take). It has taken me hours to get it back. This time, I will not let go! >: l Also, Dianite basically owns a super-duper fancy apartment building to keep his vampy family in. Literally, all of his fledglings. There’s hundreds. The building had to be added to, its 50 stories were not enough. So there are two towers, the original, and the newer one.

Chapter 1

Meriden was full of entropy. While the humans slept the streets were painted a dark carmine, the howls and screams of the wretched slipping into their dreams-turned-nightmares. Death haunted every corner, retrieving the souls of those who lost their color, their throat, their heart. It was a flood of vampires, of agony, of many voices crying out into the growing gloom. One side moved with an unbreakable wrath, the connection strengthened by a deep mourning. The other fled with the disarray of confusion, the unsettling lack of preparation and being caught off guard belittling their efforts to stand their ground. It was becoming a massacre, the Lord of the West losing more than he could afford to. And he had yet to resurface to experience the pain of what his weakness had caused.

Within this swarm rest one untouched place, far above the reach of the pandemonium. The penthouse was in disarray on its own. Clothes were thrown about on the upstairs bedroom floor, dishes were heaped in the sink, each room contained its own mess. But this was not the part of the building that was disturbed. Barely a floor below, one meant purely for business, was cluttered and practically taken apart. Here, one could perceive the distinct air of fear and distress. No one who would ever set foot in the room would call it out.

In what had been a large office space, most of the furniture had been violently shoved towards the walls, some even creating dents where they had hit. Surrounded by temporary walls and smashed computers was a cleared-out circle harboring a set out jumble of square cushions, taken from the sparse scattering of couches. Upon them lay a pale, stripped figure. He lay there, unmoving, with mere undergarments to protect his decency. The only distinguishable marks on the body were a white blotch centered on the man’s gut and two puncture wounds on his neck. No sound came from him.

The silence was broken by one faint heartbeat. For the Lord waiting with a bated breath above the prone figure, each slow beat sent a growing pinch of despair. He had taken every step to keep his love with him longer. With a careful hand, he had sealed the fatal wound. He gave him drops of his blood, enough for the mortal to draw strength from. All to make it to where he could safely revive him.

In any other circumstance, the process would have been much easier. He would have had more time. Instead of making estimations on what he had, on his window of opportunity, he would have elaborately set up each step. With this man in particular, he would have had an extravagant room set up, to provide the best transition. As it was, the quickest, most familiar place he could set up was a goddamn office. As he had taken the rest of the blood from the human, he worried he had already lost too much. The flow felt short, he had drawn far less than most before him. When he undressed him, he agonized over the time he had left, whether he had enough. Each second passed inching closer to the worst conclusion. He refused to accept it. He could not have failed him.

~

Tom woke with one urge ingrained in him: he was super fucking thirsty. His throat felt rough and cracked, struggling to swallow when all it had was air. His first lucid thought, however, was much different. I’m going to fucking murder that little bitch Mianite. With a hoarse growl, he propelled upward, over shooting and coming face to face with his knees. Dots danced in his vision, as he was hit with vertigo. Warms hands were placed on his shoulders, caressing them, a wave of relief washing over him.

A needy sound escaped his open mouth, rough and pained. His head was maneuvered to the crook of a man’s neck, Dia, his mind sighed in bliss. He registered a soothing coo reaching his ears, as he helplessly mouthed at the skin. And with one simple command, “Drink,” his newly crafted fangs pushed forward, through the layer separating him from what he needed, craved. Greedy mouthfuls alleviated the ache in his throat, dulled the desire for blood, a pure, euphoric sensation crawling through his veins.

He released the flesh caught in his mouth with a pant. He let him float in the swimming feelings of contentedness and unabashed glee. Protected by a warm embrace and pleasantly full, he was fine to stay as he was. Nevertheless, he felt himself being moved from his happy, albeit awkward position, lifted by those same, strong arms. Settling himself, he let out a pleased hum, half-lidded eyes barely tracking their journey to the elevator, to their home. Quick steps found them in the bedroom.

Delicate kisses were peppered along his face and neck, as they relaxed into their bed. Pillows were piled against him, sheets pulled close around him, but the Lord never released his hold. Dianite stayed curled around his beloved, his dearest, his Tom, who was almost taken from him. Never again would he let anyone come that close to taking Tom’s life. Not before they took his.

Tom was delighted to be wrapped in such comforts. He lazily lapped at the healing bite in the Lord’s neck, mostly closed despite having happened mere minutes ago. Though he wanted to sleep once more, his senses kept him up. Beyond the serene atmosphere permeating the air, he could make out a strange wailing sound, perhaps the wind swirling around the building. A smell so Dianite was spread around the room, mixing with one that was so familiar, yet he could not place it. He wondered for a moment, before realizing it was his, a muskier version of what he smelled like fresh from the shower. The tingle on his taste buds still lingered long after his self-indulging drink, making him more aware of them than ever before. Even his skin felt the contact of each sheet with startling clarity.

Except, he was cold. Above all other sensations, he could feel the minor shift of temperature in the room, hardly a degree difference. But it bothered him.  Snuggling closer to his lover, he sought out the strange, natural warmth that he emitted. For a creature that seldom encountered sunlight, he radiated a heat that rivaled the sun’s rays. As a human, Tom took delight in long cuddle sessions, all too happy to curl into the Lord. Now, he was satisfied to find it wrapped around him.

All his thoughts were cut off with a single word. “Sleep.” Dianite pressed a soft kiss to the top of Tom’s head, stroking a hand down his arched spine. From the connection of his other fledglings, he could tell that they were both happy he was happy, and frustrated that they could no longer locate any enemies. He could tell that both his brother and his following had fled. Though he had signed over his portion of the city, he maintained control of two things: his towers and his people. The Lord closed his eyes. He was certain his own following would track down any threats from Mianite. For the time being, he was content to stay with his newest fledgling. And for the rest of the night, and all of the day, the two stayed pressed against each other, unwilling to leave the embrace.

(AN: I got so distracted halfway through writing this XD I need to stop looking at Tumblr when I try to write. BUT! I actually edited! So, it should have less typos or mistakes than usual lol. It’s also shorter, but I blame band camp for taking my idea and trying to get me to forget it)