#and maybe find their way home but also enjoying the freedom of humanity..... . . ... ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inhuman-obey-me · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, congrats on 4k followers,

Can you do “I feel a sickness for a home I’ve never been” with Lucifer finding MC (platonic or no) going through a depressive episode after coming back late from one of diavolos given (demonic tasks) maybe splattered in a bit of blood, gn mc pls.

If it’s something ur uncomfortable with, take out the depressive episode part.

❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the congrats!!

We did receive your follow-up request you asked for instead, but...I was already partially into writing this one haha, sorry! However, here's a somewhat similar Mammon drabble from a previous round, which I hope you'll enjoy it instead!

Also, as a general reminder for everyone - the rules of the prompt game are only prompt, character, and MC/no-MC. This particular scenario request happened to line up pretty well with the idea I had anyway, but we've had a few others come in too, and well, we just like to have our creative freedom with the prompts that come in (⌒_⌒;) So please keep in mind that if you send in a very specific scenario, your request may be ignored.

“I feel a sickness for a home I’ve never been.” - Lucifer/MC

content warning: blood, MC depression, imagined MC death

Maybe a walk through the gardens, alone so late at night, isn't the best idea you've ever had.

You shiver, the thin fabric of your pajamas offering you little protection from the chill of the Devildom's unending night. You probably should have changed before coming out here, or at least brought a jacket, but you hadn't thought about that. Really, you hadn't thought much at all when you'd fled your room, except that you needed to get out, now, right now, or you were going to suffocate under the weight of your own thoughts.

Of course, now you're alone with your thoughts and cold.

At least it feels a little easier to breathe out here in the fresh air. The cool is soothing against your aching, tear-shot eyes. You feel the restlessness coiled in your muscles dissipating a little with each soft rustle of soil beneath your feet.

One step after another, you wind your way through the rose-dotted hedges, as if hoping that getting lost in the labyrinthine greenery will make you feel less lost in your head. The full moon glows brightly above you, lighting your way. It's larger here than in the human world, or maybe just closer. If you shut your eyes, you can picture it getting even closer still -- bigger, heavier, sinking, falling, pressing down, down, down, until the luminous weight of it could just crush you where you stand, and --

"MC? What are you doing out here so late?"

Your eyes fly open, startled, and you find yourself greeted by an equally startled-looking Lucifer, just now arriving home. Lines of dark ichor drip around his face, and when he quickly moves to wipe them from your view, it's to little success as you realize his gloves, along with all the rest of his uniform, are just as bloodied.

You want to comment on that fact, but he beats you to it, face full of worry as he rushes up to you. "Wait, you've been crying. What's wrong?"

Your lip trembles with trepidation. As much as you love him, you don't usually confess all your concerns so easily. But neither can you keep it in anymore; you've been drowning in these feelings all night, and they're about to spill out whether you want them to or not.

"I don't want to go back."

He puts an arm around you, puzzled but concerned, and you latch onto him like a lifeline. As the tears start to well up again, you bury your face against his viscera-soaked coat, and awkwardly, he wraps you into a comforting embrace, trying his best not to get the splatter onto you. After a moment, though, he quickly gives up on those efforts, deciding to just hug you tighter, blood on his chest be damned. It doesn't matter if you get the stains on you too -- right now, you just need this. You need him.

"I know the exchange program is only for a year, and then I'm supposed to go home -- right? It's coming up really, really soon. And I should be happy about that, because the human world was my home, and my whole life got left behind when I got pulled down here, and -- I think most people would miss it. Most people would want to go back, wouldn't they? But -- I don't. I don't want to go back! I was never happy in the human world!"

You cling to him harder as you talk, afraid to let go, as if the moment you do, everything around you will disappear. But the ever-assured Avatar of Pride's embrace is solid and warm around you, and he doesn't make any move to pull away. So, through haggard breath, you continue.

"I was never happy there like I've been happy here. I never fit in there. But this is the Devildom, and I'm a human, not a demon, and -- it's not like I can stay, right? In the end, I'm just a guest here, and guests are supposed to go home. But the closer it gets, the more it feels like there's nowhere for me to go. If I have to leave, I don't have a place that feels like home! I don't belong anywhere else!"

As you keep spilling the thoughts that have been plaguing you all night, he stays there, holding you patiently, listening quietly and letting your sobs hiccup against him. Gradually, little by little, your fingers stop gripping the fabric of his uniform quite so tightly. You let yourself relax into him a little more. You're not ready to let go just yet, but he doesn't ask you to. And finally, when it seems like you've calmed down, your breaths soft and steadied into his shoulder, he starts to speak.

"You know, we're here now, but back when we were angels, I used to call the Celestial Realm my home. It was the only one I'd ever known. And it is beautiful there -- how light falls on everything to give it warmth. I almost think I miss it, sometimes."

Lucifer's words are slow and careful, as if piecing together a confession that he's never let himself put into words before. He pauses, letting the admission linger in the air for a moment, then sighs.

"I don't miss it, though, not really. I wasn't happy there. There were problems, doubts that I ignored for a long time, until I couldn't ignore them anymore. What I feel is a sickness for a home I've never been. The Celestial Realm isn't actually that place that I miss. After we were cast out, what mattered was that my brothers and I belonged together. We made a new home here, as a family."

He holds you tight, pressing a gentle, reassuring kiss to the top of your head.

"And if you think you're just a guest to us, you're sorely mistaken. You're part of our family now too. I'll talk to Diavolo tomorrow. We'll figure it out. Because if that's how you feel, then this is your home too -- with us."

125 notes · View notes

legitalicat · 7 months ago

Text

From The Book Emerges a Man (Part 1) - Miraak x Reader

AN: This is my first official request made by my spiritual twin the lovely @foxyanon ! It is also my first proper Skyrim fanfic! I was surprised to find I enjoyed writing this as much as I did. I think I may be a Miraak girl now. Also Miraak's appearance is inspired by both this fanart by buttery_roll on Instagram!

Masterlist here!

Summary: Hermaeus Mora, often regarded as a demonic trickster, has sentenced you to be responsible for Miraak for the rest of his days. You can't help but despise the former Dragon Priest. Until you realize that he's only human.

TW: Tentacles (not inherently sexual in context but still), violence, weapons, mentions of blood, tension, forced proximity trope, TENSION, talks of a cult, enemies to friends, no romance YET, Hermaeus Mora, vampires, no reader description except wears a dress

Pairings: Past Miraak x OC

Word Count: 3.3k

The First of the Dragonborns and the Last Dragonborn. You could imagine the bards singing of this legendary battle for the rest of the Era. A mythical tale centuries, maybe a few millennia, in the making.

Yet, you couldn’t do it. Staring at the former Dragon Priest before you, an arrow notched in your bow as you were prepared to release the final piercing blow, when you came to the realization. Hermaeus Mora would only use you to the end of your days. Yet, if Miraak were to live, you would be free. Having slain his dragons, Miraak was no longer a threat to Nirn.

So, you dropped the bow and turned away. You would exit the way you came with the Black Book. You were free, and free you would remain.

“No,” Hermaeus Mora said, appearing before you as the Wretched Abyss.

“I leave. He lives. You lose,” you said angrily. “I am tired of being the plaything to bastards who won’t handle their business themselves!”

“You wish for me to handle my business myself? So be it,” his voice echoed around you as though it emerged from the very air of his realm.

Tentacles emerged from the oily pool behind you and wrapped themselves around your neck. For a moment, you were ready. Sovngarde was a better fate, where you were revered and rewarded for your sacrifices to the world, than to be at Mora’s will for the rest of his days.

“You think I will kill you? No, foolish mortal. It is not your time, and it is not your fate,” Mora said to you, toying with you. “You are slated for more…divine prospects.”

“Fuck you,” you uttered as the tentacles squeezed tighter, inadvertently lifting you off the ground.

“Even fate may be changed should one so desire,” he told you, your vision going fuzzy at the edges as you struggled for air. “And since you have decided you shall change his, he is now yours. After all, you have a debt to be paid.”

He dropped you, his tentacles retreating to the ooze. You gasped for a breath when you hit your knees. The fuzziness disappeared as you stared at the ground. He couldn’t be serious.

“Miraak, the First Dragonborn, the betrayer of the Priests, the First Servant, your final task is to serve the Last Dragonborn until your last breath. You shall leave Apocrypha a mortal man once more, the clock beginning where it froze when I first brought you. This shall be your new fate.”

That was what brought you home to Skyrim, Miraak by your side. You knew it was easier than continuing to fight. You had relative freedom while forcing this betrayer of Men and Mer to help you in your duty to Nirn. It felt like justice enough.

Your first night back in Skyrim, you made your way by carriage to your home, Lakeview Manor. You had thought the first person you would bring there, aside from your housecarl Rayya that is, would be your husband. Never had you imagined you would be forced to share your home with a long unimportant Dragon Priest.

“This is where you will keep me? This…hovel?” he asked as you began to dismount the carriage. “I was a king!”

You pulled him down by his robes, and flung him into the dirt. You put your full weight on top of him, sitting with a knee on either side of his chest. You pulled Mehrune’s Dagger from its sheath on your side and held the blade to his throat.

“A king?” you snarled. “You were a tool, a puppet, to be used by Mora until your veins ran dry! And now he’s stuck you with me. Tell me, little worm, do you feel the threatening aura of this blade now? Now that you can once again die by a mortal’s hand, do you feel the fear you brought upon others?”

The fact he still insisted upon wearing the mask and robes from his days as a Dragon Priest infuriated you to no end. It kept you from seeing the fear this blade now instilled in him. You could feel it in the way his muscles tensed under you. The nikriin (coward) was so used to preying on those he could control and manipulate, he didn’t know how to play fair.

You moved your dagger from his throat and cut away at the fabric holding his golden mask in place. In anger, you threw it far from where you two were and watched it as it disappeared down the hill. And if the Divine were good, you would never see the stupid thing in your life again.

You were surprised when you turned back to face him. You had not known much of the Dragon Priests, if you were honest, at least not before you were declared Dragonborn. So, you truly had not expected the man before you.

You would be surprised if Miraak was younger than forty, at least physically. There were fine lines on from the outer corners of his eyes. His hair was darker than you had expected, black with white peppered throughout. It was fast approaching his shoulders, a few wisps resting across his face. His beard was much the same in terms of coloring, the short coarse hair following along his jawline and trailing around his lips.

What captivated you, though, were the scars and his eyes. The scars, you suppose, could’ve been expected. He had championed a rebellion against Dragons, and you were all too familiar with them at this point to think the scars, that dragged across his face from under his right eye and disappearing into the left half of his beard, had been made by anything other than the claws of dragons. His eyes were overwhelmingly stunning. A sliver of a black pupil surrounded by a bright yellow that faded into a burning orange, his eyes looked reptilian.

“I earned my kingdom, Dragonborn,” he growled.

You pushed yourself off of him, practically growling in pure frustration as you sheathed your dagger. You began to walk into the house, thinking of ways you could send him back to Oblivion, when you stopped. Your old friend Faendal had always told you your heart was too big, and as you thought about the man who had been alone for over a millennia, you could understand why. You almost felt a pity for him now, as mortal as any other man with everyone he had ever known dead.

You did not turn back to face him. You merely took in a few deep breaths, smelling the smoke from the hearth’s fire floating into the sky above and the lake all but a stone’s throw away. And it felt calming. That was why you picked this place.

“Go to the lake and take a bath, you stink of horse and sea. I will have my steward bring you a set of clothes, leave the robes. I want no other connection to the atrocities you’ve committed in my house. We stay here for a week, then I have other holdings I must tend to,” you told him before walking into the home.

Your week went by rather quickly. Thankfully, both Falkreath and Whiterun were close enough to Lakeview that you could check on them during the week. The Jarls and their stewards had no news for their holds, each citing the end of the war as better news for their jails. None of your contacts in either offered a different story. At least for now, all seemed right in your favorite corner of the world.

Until you returned to the manor and found Miraak struggling to wrestle your cow into a single place so that he could milk it. You didn’t even really understand what you were seeing as you watched this insane man. He was wearing standard tavern clothes, the only clothes for men you had in your possession, and just kept wrapping his arms around the cow in a multitude of places. You could only assume he was trying hold it one position, at least.

You looked to Rayya, who was leaning against a nearby tree with a smirk on her face. You walked over to your steward.

“What is going on??” you asked her.

“You told me you wanted him to earn his keep. The ignorant fool won’t accept the fact that he is failing,” she said, chuckling.

“So you think it better to allow him to stress out my cow?” you asked.

“I tried, my Thane. He would not listen to anyone but you,” she told you. She shook her head and walked away, no doubt to do her rounds of the property.

Sighing, you walked over to the pen that held your cow and chickens. The chickens may not have been smart, but they had at least managed to keep out of his grasp. Your poor cow, that you had named after Faendal after one too many Black-Briar Meads, was mooing indignantly as she kept trying to step out of his grasp. She was just a little too slow to accomplish it.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“This cow will learn it’s place. It will listen to me,” he told you, not even bothering to glance your way as he repositioned his grip once more.

“Oh my fuck are you truly that much of an idiot?” you asked him as you pulled him off the cow.

He stood straight and looked down at you. He truly was an imposing force. Without his padded robes, he was still broad shouldered. You were near certain he was a solid wall of muscle, taller than you by at least a head.

“Rayya cares for her every day, you are a stranger to her. She has no trust in you, she will not willingly give you what you have not yet earned,” you snapped at him.

His eyes, which still dazzled you, moved down to look directly at his feet. You could see Miraak’s jaw clench and release a few times over.

“I…I apologize, Dragonborn. I merely thought I should earn my keep here,” he said quietly. “I know that you more than anyone is paying a price near too high for Mora’s trickery.”

His apology was sincere. So sincere, in fact, you were rendered speechless. The last few weeks had been so intense, between the Mora’s decision, the journey back to Skyrim from Solstheim, and the duties and detours you had as was your duty to Skyrim. You had never once suspected he may, after so long, feel some inkling of regret for his actions.

“Just…my stewards, anyone I employ, really, they know what they are doing. You can trust that their instruction will be true and fair,” you muttered. You began to side step him when his arm grabbed you.

You had been travelling light since your return, trading your normal armor for a green dress that you saw that tavern woman wore. It felt freeing, to some degree, to be able to go at least just a few days without armor stiffening your movements. So, his hand touched your bare skin. Goose pimples popped up over your entire body as his heat spread over you and your blood rushed to your cheeks.

“How was your trip?” he asked you. Surprised, you turned to face him. His handsome face once again took your breath away.

“Uneventful. Thank the Divine,” you said. His eyes traveled to your chest, where an amulet to your favorite Divine rested.

“I didn’t take you for one of piety,” he commented.

“I never was but being a god sent piece to move about the board, you gain an appreciation,” you muttered.

“I shall get our things ready to ride for Solitude tomorrow,” he said. He let you go and walked into the house.

It was supposed to be a simple ride. You had made it so many times and so many ways. You had even chosen to stick to the roads this time to avoid any such event.

But pesky vampires didn’t care much for plans. They were getting more courageous, some even coming out in the broad daylight. Which is exactly what these did.

There were at least ten of them. It was one of the larger groups you had come across. And when one laid slain at your feet, another came. They were overwhelming you.

Until he saved you.

In moments that were almost too quick to comprehend, he had cut down any vampire that had touched you. There was a fire burning in his eyes as he moved his sword about. You stood there, stunned, as the blood of vampires drenched him when the last of them were dead.

He looked at you, that fire seeming to consume him. Miraak closed the distance between you, pulling your dented helm from your head to toss it aside, and took your face in his firm hands.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you. His eyes searched your face. Your armor had thankfully kept any of their attacks from reaching your flesh.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He looked like he was at a loss for words entirely. His gaze softened as he looked you over once more. And if you were crazy, which despite all the blows to the head you most definitely were not, you would have sworn he looked a little teary eyed.

“Let’s set up camp for the evening. It would be night soon, and you should rest,” he said quietly as he released you from his hold. You watched as he walked away into the nearby forest.

You looked as the sun was beginning to set over the mountains. Thankfully there was enough light left to arrange your camp. You got to work silently on building a simple lean-to with enough room to fit both of you. You had hidden it a bit past the tree line, giving you perfect view of the road without being seen from it.

Miraak returned to your side not long after you were finished making a fire with a deer he had shot down and dressed. And so you watched as he butchered it down into smaller slabs of meat. Once it was on the fire cooking, the stars already shone bright in the sky.

“You can’t milk a cow but you can field dress a deer?” you asked him. You were both sitting by the fire, and you glanced up at him.

The firelight danced across his features. It seemed to make the scars even deeper. His eyes practically glowed at any time, but seemed ethereal now.

“It is not much different than slaughtering a Dragon. More pliable, but that typically works to my favor,” he answered with a shrug.

“I have to ask. You were…I mean you were a dragon priest. The world laid at your feet, you only had to answer to the dragons. Why ruin all that, why turn on them and seal your fate in Apocrypha?” you asked him.

Until you had spoken the words, you didn’t realize how much you desired an answer. The stories from the Merethic Era were scattered at best. Most of them had been deemed so impossible that they were nothing but a legend. Even Miraak’s story had been lost, and his was truth.

“The Dragons were cruel. Simple as that,” he told you with another shrug.

“No. That was known by everyone once they arrived in Tamriel. That’s not a good enough answer. So the truth. Now,” you said firmly.

He sighed and leaned forward a bit. He adjusted the meat’s position over the fire before looking to you.

“There were barely better to us than they were the men they ruled over. We were given control, sure, but at what cost? They fed us their barely edible scraps, instructed us to build temples until our hands bled. They didn’t even allow human companions for us, only them. It is not a great wonder many were able to scatter and bury the dragons, we were used to being alone,” he told you. You leaned back a bit, resting yourself against the shelter.

“There was a woman,” he said quietly.

“Isn’t there always?” you muttered. If he heard you, he didn’t acknowledge your words.

“This woman was…she was beautiful. One of your Divines personified, if I ever cared to wager. There was no other explanation for how one as stunning as the stars could exist on Nirn,” he said. His voice was soft, heavy.

“You fell in love,” you whispered.

You had never imagined a man such as him in love. In the few stories you had managed to hear, he was not exactly the warm and fuzzy type. More akin to the dragons he once served than a rabbit. And his ferocity in the fight against the vampires earlier felt like proof of that.

But then you thought of the way he looked at you. The way he touched you, or held you. How ever since he joined your company, you hadn’t so much as even gotten a scratch. How he seemed to always be aware of the next step, ensuring that no harm came to you.

Your heart began fluttering against your chest like a thousand butterflies has been entrapped inside you. You had been so preoccupied with hating him and hating how he had been thrust upon you, you had never thought of him as anything but a monster.

“I did. But like I said, our lives were dedicated to the Dragons. We were allowed nothing more. The rest of the world…the dragons made their lives torturous, yes. I will not deny that, and I will not deny the part I played. But, at least they got to share their life with someone.”

You nodded silently.

“When Alduin found out I dared break one of their many rules, he made me watch as they tore her limb from limb. My dear Thildys, whose only crime was being the object of all my desires. And if that were not cruel enough, The World Eater marked me for eternity with his claws still dripping with her blood,” he said.

Your heart ached for him. You remembered how you felt when you found Kodlak had been killed. The betrayal from the universe felt as real as any wound you had suffered. You weren’t even in love with Kodlak and you killed the Silver Hands to avenge him and the entire Glenmoril Coven just to give him way to escape the clutches of Hircine’s Hunt.

You thought of what you would do for a person you had loved. Especially if the beings you considered gods made you watch while they tore your love apart. And you felt a burning desire within you to destroy anyone who had so much as whispered your name. You couldn’t begin to fathom what it would feel like for real.

“You rebelled in revenge,” you said.

“I did. I thought…I thought if I overpowered them I would have the power to turn back fate. They feared me, for a while, as I amassed followers and slew Dragons. And then I began to lose, the rest of the Dragon Priests circled Alduin and fought against me, turned my allies against me. Then Mora promised me that if I served him, he would give Thildys back to me. That is all I have wanted all this time,” Miraak finished his tale.

You were waiting for some lament about how Mora tricked him. That seemed to be the status quo wherever Hermaeus Mora made himself known. He would promise powerful people the world, and all they got was an earful of lies.

But yet nothing of the sort fell from his lips. He merely pulled the meat off the fire and portioned both of you out some. You noticed he handed you a larger slab. Before you could protest, he spoke.

“You have her eyes, Dragonborn.”

#miraak #the elder scrolls skyrim #the elder scrolls #miraak x reader #miraak x oc #slow burn #requested

59 notes · View notes

honeyhive65 · 1 month ago

Text

LIST OF MONSTERS/CREATURES FOR PUNCH OUT

Someone said I should post the list. I know it was one person but I wanna do it. I’ll also make concepts for their contender and TD matches (I only have joes which I’ll probably put here)

MINOR CIRCUIT

Glass Joe- originally was the only other human. Got turned into a vampire after trying to help someone near an alleyway. Woke up in the dumpster and still trying to adapt. Unfortunately never told his doctor about his predicament (he has woken up in the morgue multiple times).

Von Kaiser- a monster similar to Frankenstein monster. Some scientists wanted to create a boxer using the body parts of some of the best boxers they knew. Unfortunately the product did not meet their expectations and is sitting comfortably down in the minor circuit.

Disco Kid- a friendly zombie who recently rose from its grave. No memory of his life but recently rediscovered boxing, disco, and Micheal Jackson. Managed to be so inspired by thriller he likes to break it down right there in the ring. He’s a bit stiff but he’s still got that spirit in him.

King Hippo- nobody really knows why he came from the sea to land JUST to box. Maybe someone threw an old poster into the ocean and made its way to him. This sea beast may not speak any human language but he sure knows how to throw a punch. Stole clothes from a drowned sailor however the pants are a bit loose even on him.

MAJOR CIRCUIT

Piston Hondo- some people mistake this spirit for a yokai, however he’s just a regular looking ghost. In his life he was an excellent boxer. Most knew his training methods were extreme but nobody ever thought that he’d take “train til you drop dead” a little too seriously. Still he manages to haunt the WVBA determined to keep boxing.

Bear Hugger- he may seem like a human at first but there’s always that one day most people avoid taking a match with him. From evening to morning on a full moon is when his schedule is almost always free. Most people don’t want to get clawed by a werewolf but there have been a few who tried…let’s just say the results in the hospital weren’t pretty. (NOTE: despite the species rivalry, he’s actually pretty good friends with Joe. Being someone who was a human himself he tries his best to give as many tips as he can to adapt)

Great Tiger- a genie who tricked its master into freeing him, tiger now spends his freedom here in the WVBA. He never gives a straight answer for why he wanted to spend his free time here of all places but hey he’s happy at least. Enjoys human opponents the most since they’re the most easy to mess with.

Don Flamenco- did he come from outer space? Was he given a little too much fertilizer? Or perhaps he is just a nymph who lied about his origin. Don was a rose who somehow gained sentience and has taken a more humanoid form. The best way to find out how to be more human to him? Well boxing of course! This plant somehow even got himself a girlfriend but who could resist the passion of a rose?…he may be carnivorous though so watch your back.

WORLD CIRCUIT

Aran Ryan- with Joe now being a vampire, Aran has taken the place as the only human contender in the WVBA…at least before Mac joined. Despite this he seems just as freaky as the others. His superstition keeps him from bonding with the other boxers and maybe even some humans that occasionally join. He gets a little…paranoid.

Soda Popinski- Seeing an advertisement on the WVBA, this abominable snowman quickly left home to check it out. Coming out from his home, he quickly discovered his love for boxing and sugary sodas. It’s however too hot for him to look presentable so all he wears most times is a speedo.

Bald Bull- A Minotaur who’s been at the WVBA for what seems to be forever…at least to most people here. Some don’t even know when he joined and others never bothered to ask. Only exception is doc but he never seems to want to talk about it. He tends to enjoy time alone so best not to bother him or else you might find a horn in your chest.

Super Macho Man- Most people have to avoid being in the front of him and sometimes the sides due to one of his so called signature moves. Macho is a trans gorgon who thought that going into a sport involving punching one’s face was a good idea. You really couldn’t afford his sunglasses although best not to break them. You could end up cold as stone if you do. Where do you think all those decorative statues came from?

Sandman- not much is known about his species but he claims to be something called a dreamcatcher. A creature who can manifest dreams into reality. Nobody knew about it before he came along but what does matter is he seems friendly enough and has even taken a liking to that Gorgon just below his rank (SURPRISE SUPERSAND RAAAAAAH sorry. Also credits to @wvbaandtheboys for making the species/creature I used)

Okay that’s all also I’ll probably also make tempered glass for this. Why? Cause I can and I like the ship so I have to feed myself somehow. Also here’s the concept for joes contender and TD.

Contender- Mac got lucky and doc managed to talk Joe into a day match. A good beginning for someone’s career for Joe is a bit sluggish and looking like he’s on the verge of passing out. He may not burn up in the sun but it sure does exhaust him. Constantly drinking a mysteriously red substance during intermission.

Title defense- His poor unassuming doctor can’t understand how Joe keeps coming back from the dead. His vitals are all off but Joe insists it’s just a cold. His doctor decided to put him on a different diet to help him be healthier and maybe put some weight on those bones of his…unfortunately the doctor gave Joe a not so vampire friendly diet and Joe as slowly gone in a more crazed state from it. For the safety of the other boxers, the WVBA graciously gave Joe a makeshift muzzle from a helmet and something attached. He’s faster and more unpredictable in this state and will try and lunge at opponents to get something in his starving state. Not even the sun can stop him from getting a meal but hey the helmet protects his head at least! Just…try not too hit it too hard or that piece covering his mouth might detach.

15 notes · View notes

nur-ein-amor · 10 months ago

Note

Hi I heard you do monster AU things!

I've been looking at those monster au 141 team things, and I was wondering if you could do a Percht!König and Survivalist Werewolf!Reader! (pref male)

Essentially the reader has been camping in the dense forest in just a tent and uses the forest to their advantage, hunting, scaling trees for shelter if dangerous creatures are nearby, using an axe or machete of sorts to help harvest materials or break their way through the underbrush. But one day the reader runs into König in Percht form (Percht can be pretty territorial) and ends up in a tall tree, König circling them. Eventually night comes and König returns to his den, little does the reader remember it's a full moon. Before the reader knows it their gaze is trapped on the full moons hypnotic glow as the Werewolf curse takes effect.

Upon hearing the sound of something violently thrashing near his territory, Percht!König finds a large werewolf(The reader), feasting on a dead moose. It's rather appalled because uh, moose can take a hit from a semi-.

I'm running out of ideas to add to this so I guess get creative- also can the werewolf have soft but spiky looking fur?-

[I'm all in for interspecies stuff :D]

To be honest, I'm not a writer and probably the last time I wrote anything was 5 years ago.

You would need to contact any authors who write anything on this fandom, etc.

I say right away, everything is translated through a translator. And instead of Y/n, I use a Reader because it's easier while writing.

And to tell the truth, I was bored when I found this query and eventually decided to write it, so, yes.

Sorry if it was turned bad. Nothing romantic or fluffy. Just if you really want what you need just write to someone else who can normally write.

Percht!König and Survivalist Werewolf! Male! Reader!

Maybe part 2 . But if someone want or ask about that.

The sun was setting, bathing the dense forest in a warm golden light. The air was filled with the smell of pine trees and the sounds of birds chirping. The Reader, an experienced survivalist, has set up camp in a small clearing, and his only shelter is a simple tent in the forest.

But for him the forest was home. He knew every inch of it, from the tallest trees to the smallest animals that lived in the forest. The dense forest was an ideal place for such a person (okay, half human, you could say) like the Reader. He lived in various forests for many years, relying on his hunting, gathering and survival skills.

Surviving in the wilderness was not easy due to some possible dangers, weather and seasons, but the Reader learned to adapt. He foraged for food, hunted for animals, and climbed trees to seek shelter when dangerous creatures were nearby or while hunting to spy. He also always carried an ax with him, using it to gather materials or while making his way through the forest.

The reader has lived in this forest for a long time, enjoying the freedom and solitude that the forest provided. But little did he know that their peaceful existence was about to be disrupted. One day, while doing a routine hunt in the winter forest, the Reader came across a creature unlike anything he had ever seen before, although this creature stood with its back to him, perhaps not even paying attention to the Reader's presence. It was tall and imposing, with a twisted and gnarled body, covered in tufts of matted fur and large, twisted horns on its head. It was König, the German monster known as Percht, and he was in his terrifying bestial form.

Perchts could be very territorial. The Perkht were a race of creatures that lived in the forest, and they were not known for their friendliness to humans or other creatures. Watching from a safe distance, the Reader saw and knew that he needed to be careful of possible approaching danger. The Reader quickly retreated back in order to return to his camp, hoping to avoid confrontation.

But Percht, known as König, caught the scent and began tracking him down. The reader could hear his heavy footsteps and low growl as he moved closer and closer to him. In a panic, the Reader grabbed an ax and climbed a nearby tree, hoping to wait out König's presence. But the fact that it’s already getting dark and it’s winter doesn’t help.

Watching from his place, the Reader saw König circling at the foot of the tree he was on. His eyes glowed in the darkness of the evening sky, creating an eerie feeling. You could hear his powerful breathing and the sound of his hooves scratching the ground. The Reader was sure that the monster was simply waiting for the Reader to come down to attack. The Reader knew that he was safe now, and hoped that Perkht would eventually leave. What the Reader didn't know was that there would be a full moon that night. As a result, after some time, König left, emitting a menacing growl, realizing that he could not get enough of fear and flesh. König, returned to his den.

And so the Reader, having checked and waited, still came down from the tree, first throwing his ax down into the snow, and then he went down himself. Taking the ax in his hands, he began to run from that place, being careful of the nearest and possible danger, not paying attention to the crunch of snow under his boots. Not paying attention to the sky, he continued to run towards his tent. As the moon rose higher in the sky, the Reader felt a strange sensation come over him. At night, one could feel the werewolf's primal instincts take over.

The reader was no longer in control of his actions, and his mind was clouded by the desire to hunt and feast. Transformation was always painful, but the reader got used to it. What they weren't used to, however, was the insatiable hunger that came with it. As werewolves, their senses were heightened and they could smell fresh animal blood from a distance. He could not control his body as his limbs began to lengthen and his skin became covered with fur and the feeling of blood and thirst swept upward while shreds of tattered clothing lay in the snow and an ax somewhere in the snow.

**Thirst** Only thirst controlled him at this moment.

The once peaceful forests are now filled with fear. Sniffing the air, the werewolf's heightened senses detected prey nearby. He followed the scent of elk for miles, his stomach growling with hunger. The elk, unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows, continued to graze peacefully. But the graceful creature was no match for the ferocity of the hungry werewolf. Suddenly, the werewolf jumped out of the shadows and attacked the unsuspecting moose. Its massive jaws clamped down on the moose's neck, drawing blood and causing the creature to let out a deafening scream.

But the Reader did not limit himself to one bite. With sharp claws, he grabbed the elk's flesh, tearing out huge pieces of meat. The moose, writhing in agony, struggled to escape the werewolf's powerful grip. But the werewolf's grip only tightened, his primal instincts took over, and he furiously charged into the helpless animal. The sound of bones cracking was heard above the deafening roar of the werewolf and the cries of the dying elk. As the elk's life slowly slipped away, the werewolf let out a howl of victory, raising his bloody muzzle to the moon. The moose now lay in a pool of his own blood, his body mangled and torn apart by the werewolf's merciless claws.

Percht Koenig was resting in his den deep in the forests when he was suddenly awakened by loud sounds echoing through the night. He stepped out carefully, his hooves clicking on the cold ground as he scanned his surroundings for the source of the disturbance.

A disgusting smell suddenly filled his nostrils, causing him to curl his lips in disgust. He followed the scent, his keen senses leading him to a clearing where the full moon shone brightly, illuminating the gruesome scene. A huge elk lay on the ground, torn and lifeless, its body mangled and covered with deep claw marks. A werewolf stood over the corpse, his muzzle covered in blood.

Perkht let out a loud, guttural growl, and the Reader responded in kind, preparing to attack. König's claws extended and muscles tensed, ready to defend its territory. The two creatures surrounded each other, their eyes meeting with a deadly gaze. The reader felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins as his wolfish instincts urged him to attack. But he also knew how important strategy was in such a battle. As König rushed at him, the Reader quickly dodged to the side, stabbing him in the side with his claws. The monster howled in pain, but quickly recovered and responded with a devastating blow of its claws.

The reader felt the sharp pain of claws on his fur, but refused to show weakness. He responded with a vicious bite, sinking his teeth into Percht's flesh. The creature let out a bloodcurdling scream and retreated. The battle continued, Reader and Percht König exchanging blows. With one last burst of energy, the Reader pounced on Percht König, pinning him to the ground. He let out a howl of triumph as the creature let out a sigh, defeated at the hands of the werewolf.

#x male reader #cod x male reader #male reader #x reader #cod mwii #cod #call of duty #könig call of duty #könig x male reader #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #cod mw2

78 notes · View notes

ask-the-totally-real-peppino · 9 months ago

Note

Looks at Pep's profile on toyhouse:

Oooh, interesting stuff here! Also lots of sadness in the links! More thoughts below:

<"–and even being rescued himself in a few situations.">

<"- he and Porto helped me home when I was struggling to move, let alone keeping my form together -">

<"Porto, and Bello, found me when I wasn't in the best place, and very vulnerable">

My first thought was imagining Pep in 'Sopping Wet Creature' form being in either Porto or Bello's arms, but it's more likely him having a panic attack and both of them helping him get home.

<"but I realised what they needed, and I gave it to them - I still have that scar... I didn't even know I could get new scars...">

Wait, what do you mean new scars? And hmmm, clones don't really have blood (at least not like regular blood), but given what we currently know (or at least theorize) about Pep, perhaps he was the only one that could've helped Mirtillo.

(On a related note: Mirtillo being purple and considered to be Pep's baby. And a certain picture with a baby wearing purple. I'm not saying they're the same, just that maybe there's some subconscious connections here. Maybe the loss hits harder because he has lost his child before. It's twice now that he was taken away from his family.)

Also the dramatic irony of having an idea of what exactly happened to his family hurts! And every single one of Pep's links being one-sided thoughts! I'm over here making myself sadder theorizing that the last parts of each one are the exact thoughts he had while searching for them! That even though he was able to see the world outside the tower, he couldn't fully enjoy that freedom because in the back of his mind he's thinking that he failed them, that he was too weak and couldn't protect them–

He hopes that maybe, just maybe, he could find them. To be able to hug them again, hold them all in his arms and never let go. He would never ever lose them again.

Okay, I'm done for now.

On happier thoughts, Happy 1 year to this askblog! (It's March 1st where I am) Thank you for sharing this story with us! We appreciate all the love and care you bring with your designs and writing.

Always remember to take your time and have fun with it! Take care of yourself, Bean.

(Shy Theorist)

(AUGH, Shy Theorist Anon, must you sucker punch me right in the heart on this joyous occasion!!! (silly/lighthearted)

But you bring up various points! And I will provide context for others where applicable, like right now;

[Pep's updated reference on toyhou.se] and the [links where he shares his thoughts on his fambily members]

First point about [Porto] and [Bello] rescuing Pep I actually hope to touch on soon! Well, 'soon' as in 'within the next few story posts' - when they will actually be up is yet to be determined jfgksgd - but you're not too far off hehe

Second point about Pep getting a new scar - this is a little confusing since I don't draw scars in my cartoony style (for some reason that I do not remember) - unless it's like [Halloumi's] missing eye scar, which is just a big 'X' - but a lot of the characters do have visible scarring!

We just gotta hit them with the unsilly beam, like this;

And there they are! Although Pep's 'scars' are just markings to mimic Peppino's scars - except for one - while clones do not typically scar due to their healing/regeneration factor, it is possible

[Mirtillo] and [the baby in that 'certain' picture] both being purple babies might be intentional, or it might be bc I have a bias for purple, I'll never tell - but I do confirm they are not the same being, since Mirtillo has been depicted as a newborn clone (the 'gummy bear' stage) and clones made out of human cadavers do not have this stage

And yes!!! Pep doesn't know what happened to any of them, and he misses them all so much!!!

But they just might be closer than he thinks...

... Any way, thank you so much! Your kind words really mean a lot to me, and I always love hearing your thoughts and theories - even if I am a coy bastard about them sometimes, fkgfksdf

I know I keep saying that hopefully we get back to it, and I really mean it, but it in the meantime I just do what I can, and drop a few crumbs now and then hehe)

#ooc post #lore tag #theory post #why did I use different words for these tags kjfvdkdgf #oh well #but thank you shy theorist anon!#also gonna put a tag for real Pep just in case #body horror

44 notes · View notes

shalscumbunny · 2 years ago

Text

Safe place | Yandere Shalnark returning home after the death of his friends

Summary: Shalnark is tired after everything that happened in Yorkshin and just wants to be in your arms

Pairing: Shalnark X GN.Reader

Warnings: Kidnapped reader, mention of canonical character death in HxH (Possible spoiler), Slight change in the chronology and original story in HxH

Author’s note: I always mention it in all my writings in English, but better safe than sorry, English is not my native language so it is very likely to find many mistakes and also that I know practically nothing about writing “X character and Y / n”

Sites: AO3

It was late at night when you were resting, out of nowhere you got up, you took it as a bad omen instantly but you tried not to think about it, you just went to the bathroom and got a glass of water from the kitchen before going back to bed.

Shalnark had been gone for a week, you hated to admit it, but you even missed him, maybe because you hadn't spoken to a human being in a week, but you enjoyed that he wasn't harassing you as usual.

Just as you were beginning to fall asleep again, the bedroom door opened, however, it took at least a minute until footsteps were heard inside the room, shortly after you felt Shalnark's weight on the bed, his body for the first time shook. felt cold.

You were turning your back on him, you couldn't see him, but there was another type of atmosphere, one that you had never experienced with him, however, you didn't say anything, until you felt how his arms were around your waist and you were attached to him, supporting his chin in the crook of your neck.

"Shalnark, I'm not in the mood right now" You said with an annoyed tone, trying to get out of his arms.

"If you want, we can fight in the morning, please, not now" Shalnark said, hugging you tighter.

You froze at the moment you heard him, in the first place, you didn't remember that Shalnark had ever said "please" to you in a genuine way, much less had you heard that tone of voice, was it... Sadness?

"Shalnark?" You called him worried

He didn't answer, he was quiet, you just felt his breath on your neck, it was slow and tired in a certain way.

"Shalnark" You called him again

Again silence to your call.

Shalnark left your neck and hid in your nape, you felt strange, you had never experienced this with him.

You didn't want to turn around, it wasn't that Shalnark was scaring you right now, but it was something new and you didn't know how to react.

"Y/n" Shalnark called to you in a whisper

Before you could answer, you felt some moisture begin to form on the back of your neck, perhaps... Is he crying?

"Y/n?" He called you again

"I'm here, what happened?" You asked in an expressionless tone.

"Look at me, please"

"Since when do you ask me for things?" You asked with the same tone of voice

"Don't make me beg" He told you, hugging you tighter

You were silent, you're upset, but not with him this time, you're upset with you, it disgusted you to feel sorry for him, you felt sorry for someone despicable like Shalnark, you felt sorry for the man who kidnapped you, he took away your freedom, your dignity and several other things without any kind of contemplation.

"You've never begged me for anything, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm tired, please..."

You turned annoyed when you heard it, but you didn't look at it, you just started screaming.

"Tired of? You're not like that, you don't ask for things, you don't feel empathy for anyone, you're a monster that forces me to be with him, why would I have to do you some kind of favor!?"

You let out all your annoyance by saying that, you didn't even know where so much anger came from, and it was the first time you told him what you thought out loud.

You opened your eyes to see him, expecting some kind of typical reaction from him, but... He was still, motionless, just looking at you in silence with blurred eyes and an expression of sadness.

You were stunned to see him, the one who was next to you on the bed wasn't Shalnark, it couldn't be him.

"You finished?" He asked you in a soft tone.

You didn't answer him, your head was processing Shalnark's state and while it was happening he pulled you, hugging your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"You always make everything difficult, how annoying you are" He blurted out, resting his ear on your chest.

You looked at him surprised, you didn't understand what was happening, you didn't touch him, you just stayed there.

"What happened?" You dared to ask him

"They are no longer..." Shalnark answered with a tired voice.

"Who?"

"Uvo and Paku"

You remembered them, once they came to see Shalnark, but you ignored them, from what he told you, they were friends for years, members of the Gen'ei Ryodan too.

But you didn't ask him more, you understood what he meant, but you didn't touch him, you just looked at him in silence, you wanted to enjoy seeing him sad, but, you couldn't.

"You will not say anything?" Shalnark asked, hugging your waist.

"I have nothing to say to you"

"Do you enjoy seeing me like this?"

"No, I'm not like you, I don't delight in other people's pain"

Shalnark was silent, he just continued hugging you, he wanted to calm down, even if you didn't comfort him, your mere presence managed to clear his mind of the pain of losing his friends, after all, even against your will, for him you were his girlfriend , your duty was to be there.

When he listen your heart he felt calm, now he beat calmly, his body relaxed when he felt your warmth and your smell, he loved you so much no matter what.

He was like a child when it came to you, you were his safe place, even if you hated and despised him, he loved you, he loved your mere existence near him.

For you, he was also like a child too, omitting the long list of crimes, many times, he just wanted your attention, he loved being on top of you, kissing you, hugging you and keeping you only for him, you knew you were precious to him.

But now, he was not the capricious and selfish child that always hovered around you, now he was a child in search of comfort.

You just sighed before wrapping your arms around him, pulling him to your chest.

"I'm here" you said with a calming tone.

You weren't like him, that's why you do that, you weren't a monster. You felt sorry, just that.

Shalnark only held you closer, relaxed in your arms, he loved you, he loved you so much now, it didn't matter if your comfort was a lie, he loved you so much more now, he was sure now that he would never let you go from his side.

You were born for him, you existed to belong to him, your body, your soul, your life, all of that was his and as long as he lived he wouldn't let anyone else have you.

"Shalnark?" You called him

He didn't answer you, when you saw him, he was fast asleep, with a smile on his lips and the trace of a couple of tears in his eyes. He was clinging to you, like a child to his stuffed animal and like so many times, you knew he wouldn't let you go until he woke up.

You sighed before calmly caressing his hair and resting your head on his, falling asleep little by little, although, for the first time, you didn't feel like you were sleeping with your enemy, you felt like you were sleeping with someone you wanted to take care of, no matter how inexplicable it was, at least seeing him vulnerable made you hate him a little less.

Thank you so much for reading my shit 🖤

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark ryusei #genei ryodan #shalnark x reader #hxh shalnark #shalnark x you #hxh x reader #yandere shalnark #soft yandere #male yandere #yandere male #uvogin #pakunoda #fluff #comfort

235 notes · View notes

readingsfrommars · 6 months ago

Text

Another Very Normal Rant on Aventurine and Sunday (Patch 2.2 spoilers for Honkai Star Rail!)

So I've been wanting to write about Star Rail for a while. The game's writing is, especially lately, top notch and I have been enjoying it a ton. Be warned, I may have talked too much this time.

As the title says, there's a fascinating comparison between Aventurine and Sunday that I wanted to talk about. I'll skip over the frankly thesis-worthy amount of details you could write about when it comes to the interactions those two have, as well as the way aventurine acts during his time at penacony. Maybe I'll come back to it someday. For now, what I want to talk about is Aventurine and how he fits into Sunday's philosophy on life.

To recap, Sunday's view on life (according to my interpretation and simplified A LOT) is that it is better to for the weak to give up their freedom if it means they never have to go through hardship. Better to stagnate than to suffer, as he sees it.

The prime example he uses for this is an analogy of a baby bird that he and his sister, Robin found when they were children. The bird, too young and weak be able to fly, would certainly perish if left to its own devices. The pair, unwilling to let such a thing happen, come up with two ideas:

Build a nest on the ground for the bird, increasing its chances of survival, but ultimately leaving it to its fate

Build a cage for the bird to mature in safety, allowing it to heal until it could survive on its own again.

As we all know, Robin went with option 2, raising the bird before letting it go free upon reaching adulthood, only for it to die a few days later. Unable to fly against the wind currents, the bird had crashed to the ground.

This, alongside other experiences Sunday went through that left his faith in humanity all but gone, led him to the conclusion that trying to let the weak help themselves was a futile endeavour. In his mind, the only way to truly help the weak and less fortunate was to keep them in a cage, safe from harm at the cost of their freedom.

One of the interesting things about this analogy is that both Sunday and Robin are both examples of that second choice. Both children were left orphans until they were taken in by Gopher Wood, Dreammaster of Penacony. After this, they were raised with every need met and every problem dealt with. A more metaphorical cage, but a cage nonetheless.

Where Robin and Sunday differed is in how they saw the cage. While Sunday would continue to stay within his cozy, safe home, Robin would spread her wings and take off, never again letting herself be caged. When Sunday received news that Robin had received a bullet wound in her neck after going into an active warzone, it only served to strengthen his beliefs that the way of the Harmony was futile. The way Sunday saw it, if the reward for all of that compassion is nothing but pain, then there is no point in trying to help people find their happiness. (I'm paraphrasing to an extent)

But you might be asking: "Mars, what about Aventurine? You've only talked about Sunday, and for way longer than you probably should have."

And to that I say "Fuck. My bad"

But also "I'm glad you asked"

Aventurine is a character I don't think I have the attention span to fully delve into. So I won't. At least not yet. And considering how much you've read to get here, that is something you should probably be thankful for.

Aventurine is the last member of his people, the Avgins. Almost immediately after becoming the last of his kind, he is then put into slavery, with a brand placed on his neck (an interesting parallel with Robin's bullet wound). It is only through his own efforts that he was able to break free of his captors and become a part of the IPC, a place that would go on to become a home of sorts for him.

As a self-admitted gambler, he is always willing to take risks to reach his goals, but don't let appearances fool you. His risks are calculated, and tend to involve him receiving the brunt of the punishment while the people around him capitalise on the opening he provides. That's how he operates both in story and gameplay, mind you. The only thing he really bets is his life more often than not

While that does make him seem more like a nihilist than anything else, there's a lot to unpack with his actions and motivations and I'll get to that some other day. But at the end of the day, his plans revolve around his faith that others will be able to finish what he started.

Between his childhood and upbringing, as well as the way he operates, Aventurine is the antithesis of Sunday's beliefs. It is the suffering that made Aventurine into the person he is, and allowed him to ultimately overcome Sunday's conspiracy.

It was Aventurine forcing Acheron to unsheathe her blade that led to the express was able to learn the truth of the dreamscape, and subsequently allowed them to save Penacony. And once all is said and done, what recognition did he receive? At best, he'll be demoted from the position he worked tirelessly for.

When you think about it, Aventurine embodies the Harmony better than Sunday does. But then again, isn't that the point?

#honkai star rail #insane writing ramblings #hsr aventurine #hsr sunday #I'm sorry this one's so long I really am #2.2 spoilers

20 notes · View notes

klbwriting · 11 months ago

Text

Combining Two Worlds

Chapter 8: Finding a New Plan

Fandom: DCU

Pairing: Orm/female!Reader

Warnings: none for this one, just some plotting

Summary: Orm's talks with the nobles goes no where so he must think of something else to help his family

Note: Ya, it has been a while my friends, but after the new movie, and re-reading my old fics I'm going to try to at least finish this one and maybe even do some more about my king forever Orm. Enjoy

Orm could not imagine how hard it would be to convince the nobles that Syfin was not a suitable king, that Arthur was a true and good king for Atlantis. They were so stubborn, so set in their old ways that the idea of having a half-human king was still disgusting and below them. They tolerated it because he had the trident, but if another came forward, why shouldn’t they be given the chance? They were pure blood after all.

“Why does he not accept a challenge from Syfin?” one of the nobles asked while Orm sat in council with them. Orm frowned.

“Has a challenge been brought forward?” he asked. The noble shook his head. “Perhaps Syfin knows that he is weaker than the current king.”

“He probably knows that the half-breed would cheat, all surface dwellers know is deception,” another noble said. Orm had to take a breath and fight rolling his eyes.

“That is not all surface dwellers know, I have met many of them, and they are just like us. We are not unfamiliar with being deceptive and from cheating to get what we want,” he responded. There was a soft murmur.

“Yes, you have spent quite some time on the surface. Marrying one of them and bringing another half-breed into the royal line,” another said. Orm clenched his fists tight, trying to contain his anger.

“Keep my wife and child out of this,” he said, voice cut with an edge. There was a shift in the room, he hoped he hadn’t ruined this. He wanted to convince them Arthur was king without having a challenge brought forth.

“Either way, the family has entered Atlantis again, they are royal, and they have a right to question who is leading Atlantis,” Roius, the highest noble in the room, said. He was matter of fact, voice even, but Orm knew that he was hiding something. Roius had first supported him, then when the tide seemed to be turning to Arthur, had jumped ship. He was sniffing to see where power was, hoping to latch himself on the winner and keep in their good graces. “Orm, you as advisor to the king should have him prove his reasoning for keeping this family under arrest, or we, as the other nobles will raise our concerns louder and bring more force.”

“You would risk a revolt for this family?” Orm questioned. “You claim to care about Arthur being an outsider, but these royals have been exiled for many years, why are they not also considered outsiders?”

“Well, I think we can all agree that King Orvex exiled them without cause, we wouldn’t want another tyrant like that being our king, would we?” Roius asked, eyes now narrowed at Orm. Orm took another deep breath, know that he was stuck now. He couldn’t defend Orvex without it bringing into question Arthur’s legitimacy and he couldn’t argue for Arthur without stepping all over Atlantian tradition.

“Arthur has never done anything without reason, he has even shown me great mercy and understanding. I highly doubt his keeping this family contained is without reason,” Orm said back, trying to keep calm.

“He has no proof. Either he provides proof of their crimes, or he releases them from their quarters and allows them all the freedoms he allows other Atlantians. If doesn’t do this, we will remove him from his throne” Roius said. The nods around the room showed Orm that he was finished. He rose and left, quickly finding Arthur and Mera in their quarters.

“How did the council take it? Can we send the others away?” Mera asked, clearly thinking that Tom would be able to come home. Orm sighed and her face fell.

“The nobles have clearly been influenced, even with the family confined they were able to convince the others that you are being a tyrant, they are innocent, and you are keeping them locked up without reason. The nobles have demanded that you release them, or they will revolt and remove you from power,” Orm said. Arthur was still, clearly thinking quickly. He sighed after a few moments.

“I have no choice but to release them, if the nobles throw me off the throne, then I am finished, our family is finished, no one can protect Tom, or Y/N and Velka, we’d have to flee and honestly that Lydia would probably force you to marry her just to make sure she can kill you,” he said. Mera looked stricken. “I am going to get proof of what they have done, but until then they are free to move about, we will have to be on guard and just because they are free doesn’t mean I can’t put some trusted guards on them, I mean, someone has been targeting royals, they will need protection.” Orm nodded. It was the best they could do right now.

The first few days after the family was set free were quiet. Orm almost thought that they were going to let everything be, would just be grateful to be allowed into society again. Then Lydia and Hestia came to him in his office, asking for a meeting to discuss the challenge Lydia had made. Orm waited for them to make the first move, patience was key now when dealing with them.

“My daughter made a hasty decision to challenge your betrothed, at the time it seemed right, but that was before we knew that on the surface world you were married, and she was with child. We don’t hold much care for the surface world’s laws but the commitment of marriage spans over our two peoples. We will respect your marriage, rescind the challenge, and allow you to marry here. We would love to attend the wedding and apologize in person for our impertinence against your betrothed,” Hestia said, voice dripping with honey. This was a trick, get Y/N back here so they could do something to her, try to hurt her. He was getting an idea, but he needed everyone on board before he did it.

“I understand, Lydia wanted to integrate herself and I mean, she is not the first to be infatuated with me, I can see now she knows that she was foolish, but she is young and will learn from this. Let me speak with Y/N and the king about this and perhaps we will have our wedding soon and if they agree you will all be invited,” he said, being diplomatic, bringing a grin to his face that was hollow, but the women didn’t seem to notice. Let them think he was turning over a new leaf, afraid of the threat the other nobles made, afraid of them and wanting to please them. He was going to get proof of their crimes and he would help send them away again. He was going to keep his family safe.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #ormmariusxreader #kingorm #kingormxreader #king orm x reader #ormseries2 #ormmariusoneshot

24 notes · View notes

highlordofkrypton · 7 months ago

Text

I told myself I would try to do both prompts per day during @tamlinweek, so here's my second entry for Day 1 with the second prompt: Human Tamlin.

This story is based on Grey's Anatomy, but with our beloved ACOTAR characters. It will be an ongoing series, but the chapters will be short. Please enjoy my McMeme-y Feyre.

Read Archeron's Anatomy on AO3 or below the cut!

First Day - Hours One, Three and Five

My mother always told me that this was the first real day of your life. Granted, she was talking about residency, not the inherent freedom of adulthood, and the crippling debt.

The first day of my life? Hell, I want to spend it the way I want to.

The house is a graveyard… of boxes and dust. One on top of the other, they crowd the only life in the home, in the living room (unsurprisingly). Not a single soul stirs in the tangle of sheets, messily torn from one of the boxes the night before. Clothes mark their path from the door to the nest of blankets, easy to trace, but neither of them had a thing to hide. Last night, they had courage to guide their touches, their kisses, and everything more.

The clock strikes seven.

“Shit!”

Today is the first day of my life, and I’m late.

Feyre jumps to her feet, pulling all the sheets around her naked body. In the light of day, she cares about who sees her. As for the man in her makeshift-not-quite bed, well, he gets a kick to get him up.

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” he grumbles. “I was awake the moment you were.” He sits up, gathering his long blonde hair into a messy bun.

The sight of him gives her pause as her eyes trail from his emerald eyes, down the slope of her perfect nose, along his strong jaw, appreciating his muscular body and down, down. Feyre tilts his head. She slept with that? How much did she have to drink? How much did he?

“Nice place.” His voice is a low rumble, and it jostles her from her useless thoughts.

“No, nope, we’re not doing this. I’m late for my first date of work and you need to go.”

“Can I at least get your name?”

“We’re not going to see each other again, so no, sorry. Okay, well, see yourself out! Bye!”

Maybe if she had anything to steal, Feyre would worry about leaving a strange (attractive) man in her house, but he’ll have to be determined as hell to go through the unpacked boxes to even try to find something of value. Everything she has is either basic necessity, or they hold value to her and her alone.

By the time she finishes her shower and flies down the stairs of her mother’s old home, the (handsome) stranger is gone.

HOUR ONE

Interns chatter throughout the locker room, but Feyre pays no mind. She runs her hands across the scrubs, thinking of what her mother’s first day would have been like—it would’ve been something else entirely. Instead of the diverse range of people in ages, gender and ethnicity, Emelia Archeron would have been the only woman of her class.

What am I doing? What am I doing?

Feyre can’t possibly live up to the impossibly high bar her mother has set for all doctors across America, much less the bar she needs to clear as her daughter.

“Everyone out in five, the Chief wants to have a talk with all the first years! Chop, chop,” shouts one of the residents.

The chaos is immediate as Feyre tears her clothes off, jumping straight into her scrubs. No one wants to be the last one to show up on the first day. She loses herself in the gaggle of lost, and confused interns who are equally excited as they are nervous.

“Welcome to the first day of your residency,” the Chief of Surgery greets. Doctor Thesan comes from a long line of doctors, and just being in his presence is awe-inspiring. To be so young and to run Seattle Grace’s entire surgery department, all this is just so damn intimidating.

“In these halls, you will experience the best days of your lives, and also the worst days of your lives. Some of you will quit, and it’s better you do so sooner than later, if you don’t think surgery is for you. In this room, you will hold the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of people, in your hands over the course of a lifetime. You will heal broken hearts, and give artists their hands again. You can achieve everything you dream of, but first, you need to want it bad enough.”

Chief Thesan chuckles, the sound is like a chime on the wind. He smiles, a genuinely kind and warm expression across his face and reaches his eyes, where they wrinkle with joy. The longer Feyre looks at him, the more he reminds her of the sun with his flawless tawny skin, and kind eyes. She believes anything he says, and if he thinks everyone in this room is destined for success, who is she to argue with him?

“I don’t want to scare you all. I know you’ve all studied hard, and I know you’re all capable. I’ve read each of your files. It’s just important that you all know the responsibility you will all bear as doctors, first and foremost.” He clasps his hands together. “Alright, now, go save lives.”

He’s just kidding though, because as soon as he leaves the room, the interns are split into different groups, under the watchful eye of residents who are, for lack of a better word, dead inside.

“I’m with the She-Demon. You guys?” One of the chattier interns says, approaching Feyre and the other people in her… vicinity. “I’m Isaac, by the way.”

Feyre looks around, assuming that he’s talking to anyone but her. Maybe she wishes he was.

“Yeah, me too!” The girl beside her chirps, a meek little thing. “I’m Clare.”

She looks between them, and they look at her expectantly. Mostly an only child in all the ways that matter, Feyre prefers to keep to herself, but… if residency is going to be as hard as everyone says it is, she might as well make friends.

“Feyre.”

“Nice to meet you, Feyre,” Clare smiles, a little too invested in this friendship thing.

On second thought, these people are Feyre’s competition and she needs to survive, first.

“What are you dorks talking about? This the She-Demon group?”

“Why do you think they call her that, by the way? I’m Isaac, by the way.”

“Nah, I don’t need to know your name. You’ll be gone by the time I learn it.”

“Asshole,” Feyre hisses under her breath.

“But you, baby, you can have my name. If I get your number first.”

She cracks her neck, slowly turning to face her brand new pain in her ass. The guy’s not bad looking, which is probably why he gets permission to get away with a piss-poor attitude. He looks like someone who’s gotten a free ride on his father’s money and connections; Feyre had seen enough of those types in her day.

“Why? You looking for an emergency contact? Can’t imagine many people wanting you around.”

Clare and Isaac muffle their laughter, if only to stave a possible tantrum from a dickhead. The irrelevant intern smirks, unmoved by her bite.

“The name’s Graysen. Remember it, you’ll be screaming it later.”

Feyre rolls her eyes. She knows better than to feed the troll, it’s her own fault for saying anything to him at all. The resident called the ‘She-Demon’ rescues Graysen from having his dignity knocked down another notch, if that’s even possible. The bar is on the ground. God, the bar is on the ground to be a decent human being.

“None of you are important,” says the five-foot-nothing surgery resident. Doctor Amren looks at each one of them, unimpressed. She does not smile, she does not ask their names, and she does not even direct them. She simply turns on her heel, expecting them to follow, and follow they do.

“You will do nothing without my approval. I do not care if you scored the highest in your medical school, you are nothing and you know nothing. You will not disturb me unless a patient is dying, and if a patient is dying, it better not be your fault.”

“Those are contradicting,” Graysen chimes in.

Doctor Amren stops, turning s l o w l y to face the idiot before her. The interns part to give her direct access to the man, and though she has to crane her head to look at Graysen, he looks infinitely small beneath her disparaging gaze.

Feyre understands exactly where that name comes from.

“You will not waste my time,” she says, her tone even and threatening. “The next forty-eight hours will determine if you are worth keeping around. Make it count.”

The urge to ask ‘or what’ crosses Graysen’s mind, but he seems to think better of it and just nods. Doctor Amren continues with her rounds, listing a hundred thousand rules that need to be remembered, most of which are a reminder that interns are the lowest of the low.

“Beddor, you will be in charge of checking on my patients,” she says, handing a stack of charts to the young woman. Clare doesn’t waste a second, immediately disappearing to do what she’s told. “Hale, Dr. Cassian needs an extra set of hands. Orthopedics, go. Archeron, you’re with me in ED.”

“What about me?” Graysen asks, as politely as possible.

“Rectal exams until I say otherwise.”

Time flies in the emergency department. Feyre bolts between different patients, making sure to balance all the attention needed to make sure no one dies on her watch. So far, the cases she has been handed were easy enough. Stitches, a couple of CTs, there was one patient that threw up on her, but aside from that, she’s surviving.

“Archeron!”

Feyre is at Doctor Amren’s side in an instant. She’s long figured out that the only acceptable pace is a sprint (while minding hospital rules).

“Patient exhibits mild chest pains, but no other persisting symptoms. Get a full workup done, and when you’re done, run it up to the new cardio surgeon. This is not Mrs. Afi’s first time here. Let’s make sure nothing was missed.”

“Got it!”

HOUR THREE

In the time that it takes for the labs to yield results, Feyre manages to find some downtime. The rest of her group is sprawled in various states of life in the cafeteria. Isaac has his forehead pressed against the table, clearly contemplating his life choices, Graysen wears a mildly traumatized look on his face—a single human being can only see so many buttholes in one day—and only Clare seems unchanged by her first three hours of internship.

“Feyre! Is it true, is the Emelia Archeron your mother? Gods, how amazing is that? Your mother invented the Archeron method. She revolutionized non-invasive surgeries.”

A delicate sigh escapes Feyre. The last thing she wants is to be her mother’s legacy. She loves her mother, but she’s not trying to change the world right now. She’s just trying to make it out of this program alive. Most of the time, she doesn’t know why she’s here, except that she loves her mother and she has nowhere else to go.

“Yeah,” is all Feyre offers her new friend.

“Bet that’s why you didn’t get rectal exams,” Graysen complains.

“No, you got rectal exams because you don’t know when to shut your mouth.”

Feyre raises a brow in Clare’s direction. When did she start talking back? Impressive.

Before Graysen can complain, Doctor Amren’s voice carries across the cafeteria and she isn’t even raising her voice. He pales, getting to his feet and sprinting after her. Unfortunately, Isaac is called too. He groans, and struggles to get to his feet. Orthopedics, to his surprise, is a highly physical specialization.

He gives her a sad look, and she offers him a sympathetic smile.

Her gaze wanders, landing on a tall staff member standing in line. Feyre admires his broad back, even under the doctor’s coat. It’s an absent-minded thing, really. She swears she isn’t trying to ogle at the staff here, but he’s so large, it’s as impressive as Clare’s backtalk to Graysen.

Huh, he looks familiar.

Long blonde hair pulled back into a bun, and the kind of jawline that cuts glass. He turns and—

“Oh, shit!”

Feyre sinks in her chair, using one of the boys’ abandoned trays to cover her face which is not the most subtle way to hide. If anything, it draws more attention.

“Feyre, are you okay?!” Clare is alarmed on her behalf. “Who are you hiding from?”

“No one, I just thought I saw someone I know! I gotta go!” Feyre keeps the tray and runs out the door on the opposite side of the room.

HOUR FIVE

Is it her fault if the labs got mixed up? Feyre doesn’t think so, but what matters is what Doctor Amren thinks. So yeah, it is her fault.

“What are you standing around here for?” The intimidatingly small doctor glares at her.

“The labs, the results are out.”

“So?”

It takes her brain a second to load before it clicks. She was supposed to take them to the new chief of cardio. Feyre doesn’t bother with politeness, heading straight for the stairs just in case the elevator is too slow.

“I’m looking for the new Chief of Cardio?” She asks at the nurse’s station.

“He’s right over there,” answers one of the nurses who quickly returns to the phone call she’s on. It seems important because she doesn’t bother to make sure if Feyre is going in the right direction.

Feyre follows the direction the nurse pointed in, turns the corner and—

Yup, this is the worst day of my life.

Standing there, the only doctor in the hallway is the (attractive) man from the bar. The one she promptly kicked out of her house this morning because she promised they would never see each other again. The Chief of Cardiothoracic surgery is the man Feyre Archeron slept with and now, he’s her boss.

Nope, nope, nope.

She backs away. Maybe she can find a way to e-mail him the results. Yeah, it’s 2024. The results should be digital, or something technologically relevant to the times.

“Well, well, well,” comes the familiar rumble. It’s infuriating actually, how his tone can reach into her chest like the purr of a wildcat. He sounds so goddamn amused, and that just makes her hate her life even more. “I thought we weren’t going to see each other again.”

She wants to punch him in his stupidly handsome face.

“Labs for you.” Feyre shoves the papers into his chest. There, done.

She doesn’t wait to hear what he has to say.

#this fic is going to be so unserious #it will only get worse as it goes on but im doin it for the meme #tamlin week #tamlin #pro tamlin #feyre archeron #pro feyre #amren #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #acotar fic #my fics

12 notes · View notes

sineala · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there. I don't know if anyone has asked this before, but can you recommend some Captain America/ Iron Man tittle that you find actually good, ones that characterize Steve and Tony right? I just love them both and want to know about them.

Do you mean Steve and Tony together in the same comic, or Steve and Tony separately as individuals? If you mean the two of them together, I have a relatively recent post listing what I feel like are the important Steve/Tony comics.

If you mean the two of them separately... I can recommend that.

I think for Tony, if you want to know about him as a character, I would say you should start at the very beginning and read some of his appearances in Tales of Suspense, starting with #39. You don't have to read all of it, but I think reading at least some of it would give you an idea of who he's intended to be.

The idea behind the character is that he was meant to be a tragic figure -- he's this rich, powerful, brilliant, handsome guy who everyone envies, but he secretly has a heart condition that he's pretty sure is going to kill him, that puts significant limitations on his life and causes him a lot of pain. But he goes to a lot of trouble to make sure everyone he knows thinks he's just this carefree playboy enjoying the good life, and then he goes home alone and usually ends up crawling across the floor while clutching his chest in agony so that he can get to the wall to plug in his chestplate and charge it up so maybe he won't die today.

And, y'know, he's also secretly a superhero, so he's also out there nearly killing himself while trying to save the world, which is a thing that no one knows he's the one doing, but he's just doing it because it's the right thing to do. He's also using his money to save the world in a different way, just helping people, because that's also the right thing to do.

For me, Busiek's Iron Man's run (IM v3 #1-25) is one of the runs that best captures this about Tony. He is a genuinely good human being. He also gets beaten half to death by most of his villains, so it captures that element of the character, but he is a good and kind person who knows how privileged he is and he genuinely wants to help people in any way that he can. The very first issue of the run -- which is generally an issue where the writer wants to establish what they're doing with the character -- features Tony ditching the fancy gala he's at to go do something really important, which is go check out one of the construction projects the Foundation is working on, something that's really going to help people.

Like, that's who Tony is. He's a good guy. He also knows the security guard's name. That wouldn't be a thing you'd expect someone in Tony's position to know, and he absolutely does. He always knows his employees' names. He really does care.

Obviously Tony's characterization has changed over the years, depending on the writer, but this is really who he is, to me. (I also think the current Iron Man run is doing a really good job conveying this about him.)

Steve is a little different, because I think he's often written at either end of a continuum, where they're both still him, but they're him in very different ways. Steve's Captain America, and there's a sense that when he's at his best he's embodying everything about the ideals of an entire country, everything people would want America to be. So a lot of his comics will often feature him earnestly making speeches about liberty and freedom and patriotism and so on, and this is what you'll see him doing in a lot of classic comics.

Like, one of everyone's favorite Cap moments is this speech in What If #44, which is a universe where Steve wakes up much later than he does in canon, only to find that there is a false Captain America turning people against each other. And he makes a speech that convinces everyone he's the real one.

So there are a lot of classic Captain America comics where Steve does and says things like this. Off the top of my head, if you want a quick sampling of classic Cap, I'd recommend the Stern/Byrne Cap run. It's only nine issues (#247-255) and features Steve fighting some classic villains in his usual style, as well as the milestone issue #250, in which he explains that it would be wrong for him to run for president.

More modern Cap runs have often opted to focus on the more human side of Steve Rogers. And while there were certainly a lot of classic Cap comics that focused on Steve's World War II adventures punching fascists, the more modern take is that Steve is a soldier who has definitely Seen Some Things and experienced the horrors of war. The modern run in this vein that is probably the best regarded is Ed Brubaker's run -- Steve is dead for about half of it, but don't let that stop you -- that brings back Bucky and introduces him as the Winter Soldier and generally is a comic that puts Steve through a lot of pain (and then, you know, murders him).

So it's a good run (although in fairness I suppose I should say that I skipped the middle of the run where Sharon got tortured a lot) and I think it's a good characterization of Steve in a way that's maybe a little more realistic as the psychological state of a human being who has lived the life that Steve has, than some of the earlier Cap comics.

But, like, I also like a Steve who looks like he has ever smiled a day in his life, you know?

So for me, personally, I like to split the difference, and I really like Mark Waid's Cap run. Waid wrote the Captain America: Man Out of Time miniseries, as well as a mid-90s Cap run (Cap v1 #444-454, Cap v3 #1-23, Captain America: Sentinel of Liberty v1 #1-12) and then came back after Secret Empire in our hour of greatest need for a little more Cap (#695-704, although I'd recommend stopping at #700). I feel like Waid's Steve is a Steve who can give speeches without sounding corny about it, and when I read his run I understand why people follow him, and he's serious, but also he clearly knows how to lighten up.

This is Steve sacrificing himself to save the world in #700:

(Don't worry, he's fine. Well. Not this version of him. But generally speaking, he's fine.)

But he also seems like he knows how to have a good time and be happy; here, I just grabbed the first fun panel I found, in Cap v3 #2, with Steve talking about how much he loves his shield:

So, yeah, that's my pick.

I think the moral here is that I think 1998 was a good year for Avengers comics. Which is kind of funny, because in 1998 I was actually only reading X-Men.

#replies #alice1939

16 notes · View notes

skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years ago

Text

@gemglyph This took a bit so I'm sorry it's a little late, but happy birthday! :D Have Sky snippets <3

Diving

Link thought he had seen everything at this point. The Surface was immeasurable and beautiful and terrifying, foreign and intriguing, but never had he imagined that he would find yet another world beyond it.

With the water dragon's scale, he could find just that.

The sky was his favorite world, beautiful and open and freeing, but the most magical one by far was underwater. Link found creatures and plants that were even different from the Surface world, and swimming in such depths felt a bit like floating in the air, suspended by the support and terror of water all around. It was a bizarre mixture of claustrophobia and flying, being surrounded yet untouched all at the same time. The sensation was similar enough to being in the air that it staved off the anxiety closed spaces usually gave him, leaving him hypothetically and literally breathless, enjoying the way the light danced and the way the creatures moved.

He tore towards the surface so he could leap into the air with a spin attack, getting the slightest taste of the freedom he had back home as he arched through the air, laughing giddily.

This journey he had to go on was terrifying, stressful, and exhausting. This destiny of his was crushing his mind with worry. But by the goddesses, it was also an adventure.

Doubt

Link growled as he curled inward, but the pain and anxiety that mixed in his heart made it come out more like a whimper. He couldn't figure out this blasted abandoned factory and he was beginning to collect far more injuries than he could keep up with.

Impa had been right. Hylia had been wrong.

Link bit his tongue at such a sacrilegious thought. But what else could be true?? He had almost gotten Zelda killed.

He had almost gotten Zelda killed.

Goddess above, why was he even here? Why was he even made, how could even exist when he had almost gotten someone else killed, no less the person he held the most dear in the entire world? And here he was, failing again, unable to keep up or solve these puzzles.

A gentle chime rang around the empty room, and Fi floated in front of him. "Master. I recommend drinking a potion. You are losing a fair amount of blood."

"What difference does it make?" Link asked dully, feeling tears sting in his eyes. "Zelda has Impa. She's safe. I... I can't do this."

Fi was silent, as if proving Link right. She always knew everything, and if she couldn't provide a logical response to his statement, then it had to be true.

He supposed Groose had been right all along. He was a loser in every way possible. A bitter part of his mind scoffed and rolled his eyes at the smug expression the bully would no doubt have.

"Master," Fi said slowly. "Her Grace Hylia looked through all of time in search of a Chosen Hero, and she saw you. As a goddess, it is 100% certain that she has more insight into the matter than you, and you have a 98.75% chance of increasing your confidence in yourself by trusting Her Grace's intuition and knowledge. Humans appear to try to understand and control everything in a situation 93.87% of the time, and it is physically impossible to do so."

Link rolled his head to the side to stare at his companion, squinting a little. "I'm calculating that this is your version of a pep talk, Fi."

"I do not give pep talks, Master. I am here to state facts and guide you."

Despite feeling like he shouldn't even be alive, Link had to laugh a little. "So my predictions are 100% correct."

Sighing, the knight-in-training bit his lip, closing his eyes. He felt the pain throughout his body from multiple wounds, none of which were individually life threatening, but all of which were hindering him. He'd let them bleed a bit longer; maybe if they scarred it would remind him to get his ass in gear.

"Master. Your health is decreasing. I highly recommend you drink a potion."

Link opened his eyes, growing annoyed with the sword spirit. Instead of arguing, though, he sat up and rummaged through his pouch. Fi settled behind him, acting as a barrier to prevent him from falling back to the sandy ground. The gesture caught him a little off guard, and though he didn't have the energy anymore to express gratitude, he smiled as he leaned against her and drank the potion he'd packed.

Dedication

Link had to give credit where credit was due. Groose sure was dedicated when he put his mind to something.

He just wished that something wasn't him right now.

"Groose, I promise I'm fine," he argued for what felt like the millionth time.

Groose crossed his arms. "Zelda's away for a few days and she left me in charge of your care."

"Yes, you told me that." Link was trying to stay patient, he really was. But ever since he'd collapsed at the end of his journey, everyone had been paranoid about his health. Zelda was on the surface because she'd said she needed some space and time to sort things out, stating that Impa's death was weighing heavily on her. Link hadn't liked the idea of leaving her alone to grieve, but everyone coped different, and he was willing to give her space if she asked.

But the only way to let her go and try to get some closure was if he promised to let Groose take care of him.

Well, he'd promised he would take care of himself. It was Zelda who had enlisted Groose's help. Not that it was needed; nearly half of Skyloft was walking eggshells around him. Commander Eagus still practically interrogated him every morning. Just yesterday he'd slept in and then when he woke up the commander had been hovering over him, Owlan in the doorway with Horwell because Groose had grabbed literally all of the instructors - as if Link sleeping late wasn't a normal thing.

"You didn't eat breakfast," Groose insisted. "That means you're not fine."

"I didn't eat breakfast because breakfast wasn't being served when I woke up." Link insisted. "I'm not avoiding food."

"Henya made something specifically for you!"

Wait, what? She had?

Oh. Oh. She had. He'd forgotten.

Link shook his head. "Okay, fine, I'll eat."

Groose stared at him, eyebrows furrowed.

Link felt his annoyance growing. "What is it, Groose?"

"You just... you keep forgetting stuff. I don't know, we didn't really.." Groose shifted awkwardly here before brushing it off. "We didn't really talk before, but... are you really that much of an airhead?"

He had to huff out a laugh. He supposed he was. He didn't know if it was because he was that stupid or just... what it was. He didn't know. He just... felt out of sorts. That wasn't a crime, was it? "I just forgot, Groose."

Groose crossed his arms with a loud grunt of disapproval. "Well you're not forgetting with me around! I said I"d take care of you, and that's what I'm doing. Now let's go to the dining hall so you can eat."

Before Link could even say yes or no, Groose grabbed him by the arm and nearly dragged him towards the dining hall. Link was tempted to protest, but the smell of food caught his attention, and though he hadn't been hungry a moment ago, his mind suddenly registered that he hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. Link sighed, resigned to his fate, and decided that, yes, Groose was overbearing, but he didn't mind the care and concern.

It was actually really nice having him as a friend.

#writing #no editing I die like Impa #I guess that's how that tag works #but anyway #HAPPY BIRTHDAY #lovely gemglyph #skyward sword #skyward sword link #ss link #fi #groose #legend of zelda

23 notes · View notes

dapper-shipping-forever · 2 years ago

Text

Trigun s/i origins, part 2

Link to part 1 X

Around the time the twins appear to be around 8-10, just to give a better picture, since they are actually about one year old and Lyric is close to two he looks to be 10-12, and since Gill is a few months old she seems to be 6-8.

Please enjoy now !

It had been weeks of learning how to be truly independent. Of exploring their wide open home. Lyric and Gill had never been allowed freedom before, neither was completely sure what they should actually do with it. They were aimless.

They mainly avoided staying in one place for those first few weeks. Lyric insisted with the humans crawling about that it was best for them. They used their small pod as a vehicle pulled by some toma to move about swiftly and more comfortably. As independent plants, they never required food nor water.

They stayed fully away from humans, only relying on each other for companionship. What they experienced in that lab weighed on both of them, but also only drew them closer to each other. They loved each other, and agreed that they must stay together like this. Lyric never let go of the briefcase containing the findings and information about them he had taken from the researcher before fleeing the lab, always keeping it secure in their vehicle. Though their vehicle was more comfortable then simply riding toma, it was also more easily noticed.

The two plants had stopped near a rock to let the toma take a brief break. Gill stretched in the sunlight, a small smile gracing her face as it's warmth hit her face. Lyric tugged on the rope connecting the toma, checking it was tight enough. Satisfied, he started walking back towards Gill. After he reached her, he noticed something approaching them. Dust kicked behind a group of toma, and on their backs the faint outlines of humans.

Lyric growled, Gill's attention drawn to the group near.

"Humans?" She questioned. They hadn't seen any for weeks out here. Part of her wanted to meet them, to find companionship. "Should we greet them?" Her voice is hesitant, but optimistic.

"Are you kidding?" Lyric says. "What've I told you before? We can't trust them !" He looks around. "We need to hide." He grabs Gill by her wrist, pulling her along to hide behind the nearby rocks. They could have run, but the humans would be faster on their single tomas than their vehicle could be when they would've been chased after.

Only when the humans are close enough to see better does lyric's eyes widen. He'd forgotten the briefcase; it was in the vehicle. If he went out now to try to get it, they'd assuredly spot him. He stayed where he was.

"What's that?" A female voice asked.

"A ship? Someone attached toma to it and dragged it all the way out here." A male voice says.

"What do you think of this, Brad?" Another asks.

"Not seeing any signs of anybody around here." The one named Brad says. "Hey !" He shouts. "Anybody here !" His voice travels across the sand.

Lyric stays as completely quiet as he can, prompting Gill to do it too.

"No response." The man mutters.

"Brad, look at this." Another female says. "There's something in here."

Lyric scowls.

"A briefcase?" One of the other males ask.

"Yeah." Says the female.

"Let me see." Brad says. There's the sound of it being handed around, then a click. "Locked. Hm, there's a name engraved on it, bit scuffed, though, hard to read."

Lyric feels the heavy key he'd secured around his wrist.

"What should we do?" Asks the female. "Someone obviously brought this out here."

It's quiet as the humans all think.

Brad, as he appears to be the leader, says. "Let's take it and the toma. If anyone is here, they wouldn't have just abandoned their shelter. They're probably long gone. Maybe if we unlock it, we can get a clue to who it belonged to. Let's do a quick search to see if we can find the owner around here, then head back."

Lyric breathes out, panic fueling him. That briefcase holds every shred of information about the two of them. If those humans see it, then they'd know they're hiding out there, they'd know and they'd come looking for them. They'd want to experiment on them. They'd hurt Gill. They'd hurt him. They can't open that briefcase.

Water manifests around lyric, swirling and shaping into sharp icicles; all of them pointing towards the humans.

"Lyric." Gill whispers, panicked. "What're you doing? You can't !" She grabs his wrist tightly, pleading with him.

It's her that stops him. He wavers, the ice melting. He feels two minds inside of him. One, the protector. The other, the scared little boy. His face burns.

"Alright." The man, Brad, grunts. "Let's leave."

The sounds of the ropes harnessing the toma being cut and the animals wrangled follows, and after several minutes the humans leave.

The plants stand after they're sure the humans have left. Lyric clenches his fist, brows furrowed in anger.

"They took the briefcase." Gill says. "Does that mean they're gonna learn about us?"

Lyric responds after a stretched pause. "No."

Gill tilts her head, surprised. "No? You said that the things in the briefcase would let the humans know all about both of us."

"It would."

"Then, why wouldn't they learn about both of us?"

"Because we're going to get it back." Lyric walks forward, stepping out from behind the rocks.

Gill follows, her tiny legs much slower. "We are?"

"Yes." He looks into the distance, where they can just barely see the figures of the thieving humans and the tomas. "They're heading straight that way; if we follow them, we can get it back, before they open it." He gestures for her to follow him.

"Um, alright." Gill's voice is quiet in response.

Lyric furrows his brows, bringing a hand to his chin. "They took our toma; we're probably going to have to just be on foot. But we can catch them if we get moving." He looks back at her. "You ready then?"

She pauses. "Can I ask you something?"

"What, what is it?" Lyric asks; he sounds hurried.

Gill reconsider asking, but she needs to. "Were you going to hurt them?"

"Huh?" Lyric finally pauses.

"Before, your ice. Were you going to hurt those humans with that?" She sounds scared; not necessarily of Lyric, but of the possibility he might've done that had she not begged him to stop.

Lyric opens his mouth, closes it, having no answer. Would he have? He wanted to. It's not that he wanted to hurt them just because, but he saw no other option. He hated the mere thought of being captured. Despised thinking of Gill and him being experimented on like they'd been. He wouldn't let them do that. "I'm not sure. No? I, listen, it's." He sighs, ruffling his long hair. He walks back towards Gill and stands before her. "I'd do anything to keep us safe. But I won't hurt anyone unless it's necessary. It's all for us." He reaches out, cupping her cheek. If he needs to hurt someone to keep them safe, then he would.

No one else would save them if he couldn't do it.

Gill seems worried, but loosens her stance. "Promise me it?" She hates the idea of somebody being hurt.

"I promise." He says.

Gill is quiet, then she accepts that promise. "Alright."

Lyric smiles. "Good. Now, we need to leave."

It took them a couple hours to reach where the humans had traveled, assuming they'd been right. A ship, half submerged and lodged in the sand. A few toma were harnessed outside.

Sneaking in took ages, trying not to get seen. Neither had truly explored any ship before, and had no idea of the layout. When they walked by a hallway that curved out of sight, Gill couldn't help but stop and stare, feeling something almost familiar. She had no idea it was the psychic connection between plants egging at her; she'd only been allowed near Lyric, never given the opportunity to open that ability fully with others similar to her. The young boy, another independent plant, locked in a room nearby was unrealized by either of them. Lyric urged her along.

They came to a door way, in which when they crept close they could see the broad back of a rather muscular man, bent above something he looked to be working on at the table he sat by. Near him, they could see the briefcase, locked. Lyric held in the sigh of relief.

Needing a way to get the man out of the room, Lyric summoned a little bit of water, shooting an icicle across the hall, the strange sound getting his attention. The plants hid around the corner, and as soon as he was out of that room they ran in and grabbed the briefcase and ran out. The man, Brad, stared in confusion at the melted water and chunks of ice seeping along the floor.

When they tried getting out without getting caught, a guard saw them turn the corner. He alerted the entire ship that there were two intruders, and a group of humans began chasing both of them; all of them looking out for the tiny intruders. Evading them, Lyric led them around the ship, happening upon a large empty room; rather, empty of humans, but full of rows upon rows of plants.

Neither had seen this many of their kind before, but the red color of their tanks seemed off. They stopped and took in the entire sight, before Lyric snapped out of it first and ran further along the walkway.

He questioned where they could go; surely the humans would find them here. Panicking, mind running, he looked to the ethereal plant floating above him. Part of him flinched at the idea that came to him. He knew of the psychic connection between all the plants, knew he could access it. Knew he could use it. If what he was thinking was right, then this could work out.

Dropping Gill's hand, he placed both of his palms on the glass.

"Lyric?" Gill asked him.

He focused on the plant before him. They were all already unstable in this place, if he could simply push it more.

The plant screamed. Not out loud, the two of them could hear it in their minds, as if she had screamed it into the actual air.

Gill recoiled, horrified. Lyric too quickly staggered back from the tank.

He knew he'd done that. Knew he was murdering her, but there was no chance to feel bad. The sounds of feet rushing to the room were heard, and they needed to hide.

Lyric grabbed Gill, slipping off the walkway under the railing and catching them with water. He hid them near the entrance underneath it as a lot of humans rushed into the room, standing by the plant and murmuring about what happened to it. A woman comes in with who sounds like the man from earlier. They talk quickly about the plant.

"Come quick, you've gotta see this !" A man yells.

When the man and woman run out, that's when Lyric chooses to swing back to the walkway, running out the door before it closed. Gill tugged along by the wrist, they make it back outside. They hop on one of the harnessed toma and ride quick and hard away from that ship and the screams of the plant.

Neither realize that they'd inadvertently won another independent plant his freedom while escaping.

Lyric breathes a hard sigh, just relieved they got out not captured and with the briefcase. "We made it." He says.

Gill is silent with her face pressed into Lyric's back, tears prick at her eyes not wholly from the sand kicked into them. "You promised no."

"What?" Lyric asks.

"You promised not to hurt anyone. You hurt her !" She nearly sobs.

Lyric scowls. He knows he did. Knows it felt awful to do. He does feel bad for her, but he is not sorry, he discovers. Because he did it for them. He did it to protect the only person to him worth protecting, Gill. He'd do it all again to save them. "I promised to only hurt someone if it was necessary. It was the only way out."

"It wasn't !" She yells, distraught at what they'd done.

"Do you trust me?" Lyric calls back at her.

She freezes. "What?"

"If you trust me," He says, hands gripping the toma's rope. "Then trust I only did it for us. There wasn't another way I could get us out with all the humans focused on capturing us. I had to." His eyes narrow, brow furrowed in slight sorrow. "I had to." He repeats, perhaps just to himself.

Gill stayed quiet. To her, she does trust him, but she knows they could've gotten out without causing harm there.

It's decided by them that their vehicle is too noticeable, and they choose to find a place to live that's hidden. After searching, they find a group of rocks hiding a cave system. This they choose as their own home.

The inside of the caves is lit by openings to the outside world, though it is sand and barren within. Lyric was alright leaving it as, but Gill wished to make it nicer. She uses her abilities to create flowers, grass, vines, all decorating the main part of the caves; it becomes lush and beautiful, soft sunlight filtering inside illuminating them all. But flora needs water. She convinces Lyric to lend his abilities, and in the center of the main cave he created a large pool of water. Her flora needed his water, and his water was purposeless without her flora.

They stayed away from humans for decades, having only each other. They took apart their ship and converted parts to be put into use around their home.

The plants matured, instead of looking like young kids, Lyric now appeared as if in his teens, and Gill early.

They occasionally had to hide from humans. One such time, Gill had wandered off on her own, fascinated exploring their surroundings. She noticed figures approaching, two humans. They rode toma, and out of fear, knowing what Lyric's said about humans, she hid behind a rock. The humans came closer, and Gill began to feel the same strange feeling she hadn't felt since they snuck into that ship to retrieve their briefcase. Something familiar, a psychic tug.

The humans stop nearby.

"What is it?" A voice, was it the same Brad as they'd heard before, asked.

There's a pause.

"Nothing." A young male responds.

As they ride away, Gill peaks out from her hiding spot, and she sees that man's back from before, as well as the young boy with his spikey, blond hair, riding into the sand.

In the decades they stayed completely hidden, the human communities grew, and they saw a town grow nearby. Lyric couldn't forget about the research they'd kept. The briefcase beckoned to him; the researcher put all of his energy into studying the two of them. What was the pain he put onto them for? Why would he do those experiments? Was there a point for it? He needed to know about that.

Lyric began diving into the research. He gained a greater understanding of what they are. But the records of their torture did nothing to answer his questions. He'd wanted something to justify it, but all he was greeted with was the selfish wanting of knowledge the researcher held, a genuine desire to make advancements for all humans, and unfeeling cruelty to the two plants he'd taken for experiments.

As towns grew and cities were established, they watched from a distance. Gill saw it with increasing longing. Lyric wanted them to fear humans, but she never could.

Gill loved this world from the start. The warmth of the sand, the shining sun, the adorable toma, the glowing worms filling the skies, sharing the paradise she and Lyric created with him, she loves everything.

Humans were included within that. She was fascinated by what she saw. She wanted to know them closer, to actually speak with some of them and learn more, to befriend them too.

Gill couldn't stand it. After around fifty years of hiding, by now they both appeared as adults, where she would shyly suggest interacting with them, she finally approached Lyric with new determination.

"Lyric," she said. She takes a quick, grounding breath. "I think that we should meet some humans."

Lyric stops what he's doing, looking at her with a face of confusion and some revulsion. "What was that?"

She immediately drops some confidence and speaks quieter, eyes averted. "I was just thinking it's been a long time, you know?" She chews the inside of her lip, jumping on her heels a few times to get herself pumped. Her shoulders square and she looks at Lyric, passion in her gaze. "We should visit the humans who live nearby and see what they are like, it'd be interesting and I think they might be nice !" She blurts out before she chickens back out.

Lyric approaches her. "You know what they did to us, yeah? You remember all those experiments? How we suffered for their desires?"

"For one man's desires. It wasn't all humans who did that to us, it was only one who chose to act how he did then. We never got to meet any other humans before. I'm sure they're not all like him."

"How can you know?"

"I can't for certain. But I believe. I believe fully that they aren't all the same as him. And we won't know for sure until we meet them." She plants her feet in the ground, ready to argue her case the more she continues this.

"Listen to yourself; you've always been to naive, as sweet as you always are." He groans.

"What's that mean?" She asks.

"It means no. We absolutely can't. Not a chance."

"Come on, please !"

Lyric waved his hands. "They're dangerous ! If they discover what we are, then we're going to be captured ! And I have to keep you safe !"

His voice raising makes her nervous, and she shrinks back a little; but she refuses to let this topic go this time. "We can be safe ! And it could benefit us to befriend them !"

Lyric groans, dropping his face. "This entire idea is stupid and just ridiculous entirely."

Stepping forward slightly, Gill puts her hands gently on Lyric's arms. "Lyric, please; listen." Lyric slowly looks at her. "I want this. I want to meet the humans. You trust me?"

"Of course." He quietly says.

"Then listen to me now, please. It's going to be worth it to give the humans a chance right now. If we can learn about them and befriend them, there's nothing to fear then. We were hurt, but there's nothing that says everybody is out to get us. There were others like us. Other independents. He said that there was a woman who loves them. Loves them enough to give them names and protect them. You know what that means? There's a chance that he was the exception, not the rule to what humans are like, and I want to take that. I want to believe they're kind and worth getting to know a lot better. Please, Lyric, think."

Lyric is silent. He wants to protect them and deep inside genuinely fears the humans, he thinks getting close is a terrible idea. But she's earnest and wants this a lot. He is terrible at saying no to those beautiful, innocent eyes that she wields.

"We stay for only a little bit. We make sure no one figures out what we are. We keep out interactions minimal. Is that understood?" He says.

Gill brightens. "It is understood." She squeals, hugging Lyric tightly with a big grin. "Thank you, Lyric ! Thank you thank you !"

Soon, they found themselves outside the town. The buildings were makeshift, and the construction wasn't amazing. But there were people. A fair amount, more than either had seen before. All milling around, sitting in the shade the buildings provided across the ground.

Lyric swallowed, feeling like he was on the precipice of a big beast's lair. Gill felt herself full of nervousness, but excitement too. The two plants held hands tightly. They gave each other enough confidence to walk into town together.

"Remember, now," Lyric whispered under his breath, face obscured under his hood. "We're human as long as we're here."

Gill was partially hidden by her own hood. "Got it, humans." She says quietly.

Humans walk by, most keeping their heads lowered. They do get some looks as they move deeper into town. She keeps her head moving, taking everything in with stunned awe. It was amazing. She couldn't take it in quick enough; she wanted to see more, everything. Looking at the humans, they delighted her. This is exactly why she'd been begging to come.

She loves Lyric, it's just that only having limited experiences with others for decades has made her incredibly curious coupled with her earnest love for everything she sees. This place is only a relatively short bit from their home, but it felt alien to her.

They came to an area with some stalls, varying types lining the walkway they followed there. Gill's attention went to one showing something rather strange. Strange little cubes on some sticks, and a larger piece of the same substance to the side. She stops them before it, gazing curiously.

The woman behind the strange stall smiles kindly. "Hello, kiddies. Haven't seen you around here."

Gill flounders trying to respond, but Lyric jumps quickly to answer her. "We're just traveling."

"All by yourself?" She asks, concerned.

"Yes, it's just us."

"My word, that's dangerous, isn't it? Two young things like yourself shouldn't be traveling all on your own in this dangerous area."

"We're alright." Lyric says.

The woman gives a confused but soft smile. "Well, lots of folks have things I know better than to pry into, huh? I'm rather worried if you're by yourselves here, either way, despite all that said." She thinks briefly. "Here, take some, on the house." She grabs two of the sticks and holds them out the children.

"What's this?" She asks.

"Worm meat." The woman says. "You kids must be hungry."

"Hungry?" Gill quietly asks. Ah, he'd said something about being hungry; it's when humans know to eat more food, something she and Lyric haven't felt. Plants typically have no need for food and water. She grins. He never let them try food. "Thank you ! I've never eaten before !" She takes the food from her.

The woman looks confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Lyric puts his hand on his face.

Gill jumps. She quickly back pedals to fix her little slip. "Um, well, just, I mean that it's been such a while since we've had, uh, food that it feels like I've never eaten before !"

The woman, no less confused by these two strange children, accepts it. "Well then, enjoy !"

The two children examine their food; Gill excitedly, Lyric unsurely.

Gill takes a bite, tasting such flavors for her first time. "It's delicious !" She'd heard him use that word when eating something he seemed to enjoy before.

Lyric takes a bite, chewing and judging. He can't help but be taken in too, tasting this food. His eyes shine despite his withholdings.

The woman is bashful, glad to see them enjoying it. "It's hardly fancy; ain't got a lot of seasonings 'round here, but thank you, I'm glad you like it."

Gill and Lyric wander across the pathway while eating, sitting in some shade from a building.

They watch people walking by. The food truly is nothing exceptional, but it's special. When they finish, she grins. "That was good. I want some more."

Lyric looks at her. "Should I get you more then?"

Gill almost says yes, but she stops and thinks. The humans need this food, and she knows it's somewhat difficult to obtain in this sort of place. If she takes more, she'd be taking something right from them. "I shouldn't; they need it."

Lyric says nothing. He seems to be thinking quietly. Then, he stands, and walks back to the stall.

"Excuse me." He says, looking like a wide eyes child. "I'm rather hungry, could I have just one more, please?"

The woman smiles. "Sure, of course."

Lyric returns with the food, handing it to Gill. "Here you are."

Gill grins, taking it from him. She knows it's probably wrong to eat it, but she enjoyed it a lot. Another won't hurt at all. "Thank you, then."

They explore the town more after she eats. As it gets into nighttime, Lyric figures they should go. But right as he's about to convince her, they hear some cheering. Investigating, they see some humans starting a large bonfire, voices flowing loudly in the night air. The humans have chosen to throw a party, and Gill is swept into its energy. Lyric narrows his eyes, trying to pull her away. She barely acknowledges his protests. The smiles she sees entice her, and everyone treats her as if she belonged amongst them.

There's laughter and food, something called alcohol which is her first time tasting something gross but the humans enjoy, and there is love for their surroundings. There is love in the ways they party. Soon, she notices some of the humans doing something strange all encircling the fire.

"What's that?" She asks someone.

"They're dancing !" The man says, raising his alcohol high above their heads with a splash outside his jug, laughing.

"Dancing?" She asks. Watching them, their dancing entrances her. It seems wonderful, almost somewhat hypnotic. She wants to know what it's like.

Someone dancing sees her watching and beckons to her, and she happily runs in to join them.

Linking arms, she dances around the bonfire, exchanging partners with the rhythm of the music. Her smile is big, and the fire light performs its own joyful dance along her features, her long hair flowing around her body.

Lyric watches from the shadows, arms crossed in front of him. A nasty feeling lurks within watching her. He loves seeing her happy, but despises seeing her immersed amongst these humans. She should be with him, the thought repeats.

She spots him by himself, and gestures for him to come. It takes some, a lot, of convincing, but he does. They dance in the bonfire light. Gill's smile shows her joy, and Lyric feels that this is what's right. Her attention for him alone, her smile beaming at him, her hands held by his. This is what is right, he knows this now.

After that, Gill began insisting they visit town more. Lyric begrudgingly followed, agreeing. She made friends. She learned more. She loved everything. It brought her excitement and felt brilliant.

Lyric grew more and more bitter towards the townspeople. He saw what they were doing. They were stealing her; all of them wanted to take her from him. They put her in harms way. The more she mingled, the more they may discover what they are. They would hurt her. Yes, yes that was it. He had to protect her. Satisfying her childish desires was one matter, but allowing her to get this close was another. If he focused on that, his own fears of getting hurt if they were discovered stayed shoved away. It wasn't his own selfish desires to keep her close and his alone, afraid of the one being he worships being stripped from him forever, no. It wasn't that he needed her to only have her eyes trained on him, no. It wasn't that he was scared of her loving anything more than him, no. This was for her, this was to protect her, this was to worship her.

Lyric researched about plants, what was possible between them, the information he'd studied for decades. Gill wasn't sure what he was working on in secret.

She'd begun going into town alone. She spent hours talking about the humans. She played amongst the toma and the worms. Lyric stayed within their home.

He despised it. It wasn't right. What is right is him and her as a pair. They needed no one else. She needed him. He needed her. This wasn't what was right.

This was wrong.

Wrong.

WRONG.

He hated it.

He needed to keep her close, to protect her. But with her love for the humans, she wouldn't leave them. He needed a way to make her no longer desire being with them and to be just with him. Was this wrong? What he was doing went behind her back. Would she despise him for it? If she learned? No, nothing that would keep her with him could be wrong. This was right, he was sure of it completely. There was one way to ensure she would think of only him and not those humans. If what he was thinking was correct, this would work. He assured himself. This was right.

This was right.

"What're you doing, Lyric?" Gill asked him. She felt like she'd barely seen him for like weeks.

Lyric smiled. "I just finished a project I've been working on for a bit now."

She tilts her head. "Yeah? Good ! What is it?"

He says nothing at first, but walks towards Gill, and hugs her. "I made something great for us." He hugs her tight.

"Ah?" She says, confused but happy for him. His hug is tight, though, it's almost uncomfortable. "That's nice."

"You've been with the humans a lot." He says.

"Yeah, I love them."

He hugs her tighter. "I know that. It disgusts me." He says, voice too light.

"What?" She asks, stunned.

"They're taking you away. Its wrong. All we need is to stay together. But they've twisted you. It's not your fault; I know you'd never leave me. It's just that they've stuck bad things in your thoughts. I figured out how you forget them all, now."

"Lyric, you should stop. What are you talking about. Talk to me."

"We're going to be together, without anyone interfering. Soon, they won't be anything to you, not a mere memory to you." His hug is tight. It hurts her.

"Lyric, stop this." She pleads weakly.

Lyric shifts his arms and holds her around her waist and lifts her off the ground. "This is for the both of us, our love."

"Lyric !" She shouts, struggling in his tight grasp. Lyric was much more muscular, much bigger than her. He'd never wanted her to lift a finger, small and precious as she is.

He carried her to where he'd been crafting his secret project. Within, he'd stolen parts from spaceships and towns, and put together a plant capsule, a large tank full of liquid, and it beckoned.

She fought but could do nothing, he was too strong for her, she was weak. Much too weak to fight him. The attempts unacknowledged.

He took her above the tank, and opening the doors, dropped her in. She fell with a splash into the liquid. As it filled her, her eyes opened wide; her markings glowed. Lyric manipulated the liquid, it drove within her. Flowed into her mind, deep. Where he washed it, pure and clean; he polished her. Her memories washed swiftly out by the current.

This was what is right and what is best.

When be returned hours later and pulled her back out, she dripped with the liquid, slowly reopening her eyes again momentarily.

She looked around, eyes innocent, wide. "Who am I?" She asks. "Where am I?" She saw her surroundings. "Who are you?" She looked into Lyric's face. Her hand held in his where she sat on the ground, him leaning above her and smiling.

"I am Lyric, and I am your best friend."

There was nothing from before awakening that she remembered. She knew nothing. How incredibly perfect.

#self shipping #self ship #self ship community #oc x canon #self insert #self ship writing #self insert oc #dapper writes #dapper s/i: trigun

15 notes · View notes