#he betrayed his entire species but as long as he knows his brother's okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imagine-darksiders · 3 years ago

Text

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper.

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...?

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud.

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom.

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then...

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation.

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state.

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches.

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister? Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...”

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you.

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?”

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...”

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him.

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so..

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.”

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.”

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his.

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close.

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs.

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack.

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last.

This one is no different.

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Strife #reader #fluff #sharing a bed!#monster boyfriend #interspecies relationships #blood #injury #whump

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spn-romantica · 4 years ago

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So I watched SPN for years, right up until the end of S11, when they brought back Mary. I heard that S15 would be the last season, and I was like ‘oh ok I’ll rewatch (for like the 8th time) and finish SPN then’ BUT THEN 15x18 happened and I was violently pulled back into the SPN fandom. I still haven’t caught up fully watching yet, but I’ve read so much discourse now...and I have thoughts. Hypotheses currently. I’ll wait to finish the whole show for real to call any of this theories but, I wanted to record my thoughts.

They’re about Chuck. As a villain. Which weirds me out. As an antagonist? Sure. As evil? No. Can’t envision it. I just finished my rewatch of S5 and, damn, but if Chuck is the ultimate villain, S5 reads very differently. :0

But I recently saw a post comparing Dean’s reaction in 1x18 (I believe) to his in 10x05 (for sure) about when someone mentions his mother’s death. In 1x18, it’s Sam when they were children and Dean gets angry. In 10x05, it’s a group of high school girls and Dean just bops his head along to the song. The post was framing it as 10x05 not understanding Dean’s thoughts about his mother, but I think that both episodes understand Dean. When Dean is a child, the trauma over his mother’s murder is still fresh. By 10x05, the event is 70 years in the past. Of course it still affects Dean. Of course. You never really get over something like that. But I’d argue that after 70 years, Dean has moved through the stages of grief to acceptance. It still hurts, but like an old ache, not a fresh, still-bleeding wound.

Interestingly, 10x05 is when we see Chuck, after a long absence. He’s watching the play, probably happy that someone loves his work enough to even make a musical, but he is also watching the Winchesters. The actual episodes of the show, aka the books Chuck writes, are what Chuck knows/cares about regarding the Winchesters. Despite being God, I’d argue he doesn’t pay attention to every second and all the little minutia of the boys’ lives. So, here in 10x05, we have confirmation that Chuck is around to see that Dean has healed from his mother’s death.

Later, in S11, Dean acts as therapist/life counsellor to Chuck/God, regarding Amara and Lucifer. And it works! Dean teaches God about family and about healing. Why does God listen to Dean Winchester, a random human? Perhaps it is because of S1-5. Perhaps it is because Dean and Sam were part of God’s test, as God himself describes it in 5x22.

What was the test? Was it God’s experiment about choice and free will? About freedom vs peace? Or, perhaps, was God trying to understand sibling relationships? He and Amara are two faces of the same coin. They are siblings, but with very different outlooks and it caused a rift between them, caused Chuck to seal Amara away before she could destroy his creations. Chuck regretted this, but saw it as a necessary betrayal. But then, some time later, Chuck’s angelic children experience their own betrayal and sibling rift. Lucifer tries to turn the angels against God, rebel and reject God. He makes demons, for sure, and maybe even Hell. But why? God figures that Lucifer was maybe jealous of the new baby (humans) like others in the show postulates. Or maybe Lucifer had beef specifically with Michael, because humans are little more than amoebas from an angelic perspective. Aside from Castiel, Anna and a handful of other angels, angels consistently view humans as humans might view dust mites. Maybe humans were the cause of the rift between Michael and Lucifer, but it was Michael and Lucifer’s relationship that needed fixing in the end, regardless.

So God is left with the sad conclusion that maybe close siblings will inevitably betray each other and be unable to forgive and heal. He wants to heal with Amara. But he also wants Michael and Lucifer to be able to heal. (It doesn’t occur to God that maybe Lucifer’s problem was never with humanity or Michael; it was with God.)

So God has research to do, to see if it’s possible for siblings to experience such deep betrayal and still heal. He turns to his little hairless apes, the only sentient species on Earth with potential to parallel the angels. He starts testing siblings. Cain and Abel are first up. Needless to say, but the betrayal was too strong and left no room for healing. But on down the line of Cain, God continues testing. Eventually, we come to Sam and Dean.

God has scheduled Michael and Lucifer’s family counselling session for 2010. All the data up to this point says it can only end badly. Maybe it’ll half-kill the Earth, but it’s finally time for Michael and Lucifer to meet and for one of them to die. God isn’t happy about this conclusion, but it’s what the data says. So, finally, the last test subjects, the last in the line who will be the vessels for Michael and Lucifer’s showdown, arrive. Sam and Dean Winchester are to be the last sibling test. The conclusion seems foregone at this point, but there is no point in cancelling the last bit of the test after so long, so it continues. God watches. And Sam and Dean surprise God. Siblings after siblings had failed for millennia to heal. Betrayals too strong, healing too little, too late. But Sam and Dean. no matter how badly they hurt each other, find a way to come back together and heal. They don’t give up on each other, despite millennia of data to the contrary. Still, the angels and demons push and push at Sam and Dean until their rift is as wide and as deep as Michael and Lucifer’s, as God’s and Amara’s (in late S4). It seems, despite the brothers’ best efforts earlier on, it’s all for naught.

But there is a further element of randomness, something God couldn’t foresee. Castiel. God hasn’t had occasion for romantic love in his own experience, so he is entirely blind to what choices Castiel is likely to make. He provides an element of randomness to the experiment, an essential part that gives Dean the ultimate chance to go back to Sam and begin to heal (4x22).

Throughout S5, Sam and Dean heal. There is hurt, still, of course, but they love each other and forgive each other. By 5x22, they’ve surprised everyone. Even the angels have given up on turning them against each other, and have shrugged and settled for using Nick and Adam as the vessels for the showdown. Sam and Dean passed their test. They were siblings who betrayed each other and healed from it. God reconsiders how family counselling will go with Michael and Lucifer. He figured it would be the Apocalypse, the end of the problems between Michael and Lucifer, as one of them dies, as had always happened before. But, Sam and Dean showed God, that though it is rare, it is possible to heal. So God gives Sam and Dean an out. He gives Sam the strength to seize back control from Lucifer, should things go south.

Finally, the showdown arrives. Michael and Lucifer meet. They talk things out. To God’s surprise, Lucifer reveals that he never had a problem with Michael. He had forgiven Michael long ago. But Michael couldn’t forgive Lucifer. He had to be a ‘good son’ and do what he thought God wanted him to do. But Michael didn’t realise, that God doesn’t give orders. Free will all the way, baby! But the whole thing comes as a surprise. Apparently, all this time, the problem relationship wasn’t siblings, it was parents.

Oops.

Good thing God had a back-up plan.

Sam throws himself and Lucifer (and Michael and Adam) into the Cage. Michael and Lucifer have an eternity to figure things out between each other now. But that’s beside the point. The point is, now, that God has to start testing all over again. Not how to fix sibling relationships, but how to fix parent-child relationships.

God restores Castiel, perhaps for a few reasons because God exists outside of time, but originally it may have been just for one. He likes Castiel. He is impressed that Castiel invented free will for himself, broke free of angelic programming (multiple times over), and did it all for love. It’s novel. It’s interesting. God might even think it’s sweet. But God has had time later, and thought about it, and he has a plan. And Castiel is essential.

But Dean Winchester is the key.

Sam and Dean’s relationship with their own father has been strained, but both boys find a way to forgive John his flaws and failings, and love him. Whenever they do get a chance to see him again, post his death, they don’t hate him. They’ve healed. John’s relationship with Sam and Dean is one point of data, Abraham and Isaac another. There are many data points that God can reflect back on and consider.

But as S6 through S10 roll on, God watches Sam and Dean and Castiel. He even watches Crowley and Rowena for another data point. Dean is his main focus, however. (This is a little meta, but as the story focuses more on Dean than Sam post S5, it ties in. Prior to S6, both Sam and Dean were essential - the sibling test. Now, post S5, the parent test, Dean is the most essential. Of course, Sam and Castiel are important too. But Dean is key.)

Dean is a good father. He was a good father to Sam, even when he was only 6 years old himself. He was a good father to Ben. He was willing to die for Bobby John. He’s always good with kids. Not only that, but Dean is blunt enough, brave enough, and crazy enough to tell God to God’s face what he thinks. God needs Dean’s advice, his perspective and opinion on family relationships, but he also needs to see what Dean would do if he were in God’s shoes.

[Edit (1/04/21): After seeing Michael and Lucifer (mostly) heal, and after seeing Sam and Dean heal their relationship, God finally has hope for him and Amara. So God logically wants to retrieve Amara from her prison. But how? Well, he could just wander on up to Cain and do it himself, but what would Amara say? “So I see you’ve come crawling back, eh, Chucky?” She wouldn’t be impressed with God. She wouldn’t understand, because she’s hopeless too. SO how to give her hope? How to make her see that she and God can be okay again? Why, stick her near Dean Winchester, of course! So God sets things up for Dean to get and lose the Mark of Cain, thereby ensuring that Amara will feel a connection to Dean and stick around him/keep him alive long enough for Dean to work his life-coach magic.]

In S11, God and Amara heal their relationship because of the hope Sam and Dean gave God, and also the direct advice Dean gives God. God and Lucifer, not so much.

God needs more data. He needs to see what Dean would do. In comes Castiel’s relevance. God sets things up so that Lucifer can have a son. A nephil. Jack. And God points Castiel in Jack’s direction, trusting Castiel’s ability for unconditional love to keep Jack alive long enough for the experiment. Castiel becomes Jack’s father. But Castiel will never betray Jack, the way God betrayed Lucifer. And, besides, Castiel isn’t the target of this experiment. But it is Castiel’s relationship with Dean Winchester that provides the link needed to get the experiment rolling.

Because Jack is Castiel’s son, he is therefore Sam and Dean’s nephew. Except, God has been watching Castiel and Dean. And, frankly, their romantic love for each other is so obvious even God cannot miss it. Through Castiel, Dean sees Jack as his son too. He loves Jack, exactly like a son. In this way, Dean parallels God, and Jack parallels Lucifer.

But God knows Dean would not easily turn on any child, let alone his own child. So God had a plan for that too. One that Amara helped him with.

They brought back Mary Winchester.

Mary is the one person in existence whose loss would hurt Dean enough to spur him to action. So, she was brought back to die. It was a matter of only a few years of gentle prodding to get everything in position. Jack causes Mary’s death. Dean is faced with a horrible decision. If Jack can kill Mary, what’s to say that Sam and Castiel wouldn’t be next? Mary’s death is like everything beginning all over again for Dean as well. Her first death set off a chain reaction, a series of unfortunate events that spanned decades and nearly caused the ruination of not only Dean’s life, but Sam’s and John’s and even the world. That scar, which had healed as well as it could after 70 years, that God saw was healed in 10x05, has been violently opened up again. It’s the only thing that could force Dean’s hand, that could get him to betray Jack and try to kill him. If Jack had killed Sam or Castiel, it wouldn’t have had the same effect. Both Sam and Castiel had died and come back so many times, and while it would hurt Dean and make him doubt Jack, their deaths would be a sacrifice that Dean would feel obligated to respect, to give Jack a second chance like they would both want. (And God has been laying the groundwork for Dean, convincing him that Jack is evil, will be evil like Lucifer, can’t be allowed to live. All things God has thought about Lucifer over time. Was Lucifer inherently evil? Was their rift inevitable?)

So, here it is. The big test. Will Dean kill Jack? Will he betray Jack and cause an unhealable rift? Or will he find a way to heal, like he did with Sam against all the odds?

And, once again, Dean impresses God. He refuses to kill Jack.

But now we’re in the endgame. Sam, Dean and Castiel are aware that Jack’s life was only on the line because of God. It’s not something they can forgive, or understand. They’re all God’s guinea pigs, and while he loves his guinea pigs, he knows he’s hurt them in the name of science, of knowledge. or healing, and God can’t undo what he’s done. Free will is linear, after all. So it is time for the Winchesters, Castiel and Jack included, to be done with God. God is done with them, too. It’s time for them to be free and at peace. The experiments are done. God has decided not to kill Lucifer. He has decided to try to heal. He can get Lucifer out of the Empty and talk and try to fix things. He has forever to fix things, now that he knows he can. (The last element of this, Jack forgiving Dean for trying to kill him, is something I have limited knowledge of, but I am under the impression happens so... To be added in the edit once I finish the series.)

But the only way the Winchesters will be able to rest, is if they think God, the last and greatest villain, is out of the way. They know they’ve been manipulated their whole lives, first towards the sibling experiment and now the parent experiment, so they need to think God is gone so they can feel secure in their free will once more. Truthfully, God never took their free will. He set them up in situations, maybe even gave a bio-chemical nudge of anger (Dean) or attraction (Sam and Eileen) every now and then. But the choices were always theirs. Still, God knows they won’t see it that way. So he sets things up so that they can defeat him.

He lets them win. He wants them to win. They cannot defeat God, after all. It’s not God’s time, and Death is the only one who can claim God in the end, as the two embrace as friends and walk to the next existence. But the Winchesters need this, and so God allows it. A last gift, to the beings who have been such help, hope and inspiration to him.

With an eye for an eventual S16, 15x20 is written to be ‘an ending’ but also one that could easily be reframed as a bad dream.

For example...

Unfortunately, after Jack, suped up on a extra Grace God lent him, restores the Earth and expends all the Grace (”giving up the mantle of God so that their is no God, no plans, only Free Will”), and Dean, Sam and Jack head back to the Bunker to regroup and gather the ingredients to do the spell to rescue Castiel from the Empty, they’re jumped by monsters who are angry with how much God has fucked with them on behalf of the Winchesters. 15x20 is all a djinn dream Dean is trapped in.

16x01 is Dean waking himself up from the djinn dream, Sam and Jack escaping their own monsters, and then the end of 16x01 is Dean saying something about waking Castiel up from his own dreams in the Empty. The rest of S16 sees the boys save Castiel, reunite with Eileen, start a monster-hunting Bobby Singer/Men of Letters-esque organisation, Dean and Castiel getting together and getting married on Valentine’s Day, Jack getting to live a normal life, going to school, making friends, etc.

If their is no S16 ever (which would be criminal), then 15x20 makes no sense, unless it is plainly a recount of an old, hopeless ending written by God. However you spin it, 15x20 is not the way it seems (like owls).

All things being said, God is an antagonist, but he’s not evil. He’s an asshole, sure, but he never once worked against the Winchesters, never bet against them, never tried to erase or end them. He wanted them to win. He wanted to see the fruits of free will be love, second chances, hope, forgiveness, healing, and happiness, not just betrayal, pain, selfishness, jealousy, disappointment, and hopelessness.

Why is the ending he shows Becky ‘hopeless’? Because God is. He has spent his long existence losing his most loved family members. Amara, Lucifer. How can things end well for God, when they can’t even end well for humans? But Sam and Dean defy the script, again and again. They surprise God, defying the statistics, defying the hypotheses, throwing the experiment into disarray. Giving God hope. Sam and Dean were okay. Dean and Jack were okay. If God had a romantic love, he would find hope from Dean and Castiel being okay. But when God wrote the book he showed Becky, he was writing what he thought would happen. In the end, surely, not even Dean can be enough to hold Sam and Cas and Jack together. But in the end, as we see, as God sees, he is proven wrong and he’s happy to be wrong. He’s hopeful. And he can leave Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack, and all the angels and all the humans, to rule the Earth and the Heavens. He doesn’t need to learn anything more from them, so he heads to the Empty, with Amara, with Lucifer, with Death (Billie or not, Death is there for God in the end), and they can all depart for a better existence of their own.

If you read all of this, thanks! I eagerly anticipate watching the remaining 10 seasons so I can come back and edit the heck outta this, but until then, if y’all have any thoughts, I’d be interested to hear them~

TLDR: God is a morally bankrupt scientist and the Winchesters are his guinea pigs, but he’s not evil and he does love his guinea pigs, even if he could really treat them nicer.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #jack kline #castiel #god #chuck #amara #lucifer #mary winchester #destiel #deancas #this is what i get for living on spn tumblr in a post s15 world while rewatching s5 and having memories ranging from hq to 8bit about s1-s11 #be kind i haven't finished my rewatch/finished the show so i probably have stuff wrong #what if god isn't evil just has no inherent moral compass because he has to teach himself everything #and he's taken to using the winchesters as his guinea pigs/life counsellors

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thicctails · 4 years ago

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Summer Of Whump Day 18 [Collapse/Beaten]

This one is such a mix of fluff and whump, I love it!

“She’s so pretty! Do you think she’ll let me do her hair?”

“He’s so pale… is that normal for humans?”

“For some of us, yes.”

“I think they’re waking up…”

“Oh, Tiger’s right! Step back, little ones.”

Omega groaned softly, blinking blearily. The Force nudged her, urging her to open her eyes. She obliged, opening her eyes and allowing her vision to come into focus. Her breath caught in her throat when she spotted a scaly, toothy muzzle right in front of her face. She yelped and scrambled back, tripping over something. She heard a grunt from beneath her, and a quick glance down revealed that it was Cal that she had tripped over. The duo quickly moved into a defensive position, her back against his as they called out to the Force.

A group of people had surrounded them, all from varying species. They were all different ages as well, ranging from a mature adult to a young toddler. They didn’t look aggressive, but they hadn’t ended up here on accident, so Omega remained on guard. She’d learned to not trust strangers at this point, no matter how friendly they seemed. The eldest member of the group, a Togruta, if her memory served her correctly, raised her hands.

“Easy, young ones. We’re not going to hurt you.” She said.

Omega reeled back at first, remembering hearing that same voice when she had been grabbed, but found herself unwilling to stay angry when she felt a wave of calm being sent to her through the Force. She felt Cal relax, and decided that she would put her trust in his comfort.

“C-crèshe Master Mirthver?” Cal’s voice held a trembling note of blinding hope. The Togruta nodded.

“It is wonderful to see you alive and well, young Ketsis.” She smiled, opening her arms. The padawan launched himself at her, sinking into the hug like his life depended on it.

Omega had no idea what a Crèshe Master was, but she’d gathered enough information to figure out that the woman was definitely a Jedi. Around her, she heard the Force hiss irritably, and it urged her to get up and get away from the Togruta. But one look at Cal’s relieved expression made her decision for her. If staying with this Jedi and her little group for a bit meant that her friend got to be happy, then the Force would simply have to suck it up.

“I can’t believe it! I- I thought for sure that you were dead!” He cried, burring himself on her robes.

“I am very much alive, as are some of those under my care.” Mirthver’s voice turned sad. “But not as many as there should be. I was not able to save them all.”

“You did the best you could. I know you did.” Cal whispered.

The Togruta smiled softly, and Omega could feel her Force signature thrum with comfort. She looked towards Omega, her smile still on her face even as a tinge of confusion.

“Who are you, little one? I don’t remember ever seeing you at the temple.” She said, looking Omega over.

“That’s because she never was. Omega is a clone.” Cal explained, pulling back from the hug.

“What?!” A voice snapped.

The Force buzzed with danger as Omega heard something flare to life behind her. She leapt back, falling off of the bed she had been sitting on. Just in time too, as a bright yellow lightsaber swung down on the place where she had just been.

“Chex!” Master Mirthver yelled, pulling Omega into her arms.

Cal’s eyes flashed dangerously and he growled. The Force buzzed with anger, and suddenly there was a crash and a grunt. Omega looked over her shoulder to see a human boy holding his head, a discarded lightsaber clattering to the ground. Cal pulled Omega into a protective hug, and she could feel that he was shaking. Actually, they both were.

Someone rushed over to where Chex lay, her muzzle pulled back into a concerned frown. She grabbed the lightsaber and tucked it away in a pocket before checking up on the boy. Chex groaned and rubbed his head, glaring at Cal and Omega.

“What the hell?! Why are you defending a karking clone?!” He hissed.

“Chex Varren!” The Togruta’s voice boomed as she stood. Cal and Omega shuffled to the side, and Cal cringed in shame at the tone of her voice, even if her ire was not directed at him. “We do not attack innocents! And watch your language, there are younglings here!”

“Innocents?!” He balked. “She’s. A. Clone! You know, the people who betrayed us and murdered our entire Order?!”

“Does she look like a murderer to you?” The woman gestured to Omega, who shrunk back under Chex’s gaze.

“It doesn’t matter what she looks like.” He spat venomously, getting to his feet. “A clone’s a clone, and clones are monsters.”

“No we’re not!” Omega defended, her chest puffing up in defensive rage. “It’s the inhibitor chips! They’re what made everyone go bad! They didn’t want to betray you!”

“Lies! You’re lying!” Chex snarled. “I’m not going to let you trick me, and I’m not going to let you hurt my family!”

“I don’t want to hurt your family!” Omega exploded, the Force crackling around her. It wanted her out, wanted her away from the danger.

“ENOUGH!”

Master Mirthver stepped in between the two bristling children. She pointed a finger towards a tunnel entrance, and Omega realized that she wasn’t sitting in a room, but a well lit cave.

“Go scout the perimeter. We need to make sure the actual threat hasn’t managed to find us.” She commanded.

The padawan slunk away, scowling as he went. His hand raised, and his lightsaber snapped into his grasp. The furry person that had been checking him over stepped aside, scowling at him.

“Dick.” She muttered, and Omega blinked at the insult.

The scowling teen turned to Omega, and her face became infinitely softer.

“Sorry about him, he’s a jerk even on the best of days.” She said, kneeling down to that she was eye level with Omega. Cal released her from his protective hold, the Force settling as the tension in the air dissipated. She had brilliant white fur and piercing blue eyes, a headpiece adorned with crystals looped around her pointed ears. “I’m Ebba Freclo, but everyone calls me Ebby.”

“I’m… Omega.” Omega said, reaching out a hand, as she knew that was what was considered to be polite. Ebby smiled and extended her own paw, shaking Omega’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. The Light shines so brightly in you.” Ebby complimented.

“Thanks?” Omega glanced at Cal, wondering if that was the right response. He nodded.

“It’s a good thing. The Light guides us down the right path.”

Omega nods, before looking at Master Mirthver. “Um, why are we here? I mean, you could have just came and said hello.”

“Ah, yes, I apologize for our… less than favourable methods of getting you here.” She said, sounding a bit sheepish, “But we had to be sure that strange looking clone couldn’t sneak up on us.”

“Crosshair? But he-” She cut herself off, taking a moment to imagine what Crosshair might do if he came back to find them talking to a bunch of lightsaber-wielding strangers. “Okay, fair enough. But we need to go back. He’s gonna be worried about us!”

“Wait, you were with him willingly?” Ebby questioned. Cal nodded.

“He saved our lives. We got captured by the Empire, and he got us out. His chip is malfunctioning for some reason.” He explained.

“And now we’re trying to contact his brothers so that they can come get us.” Omega added.

“You’re not staying?” A tiny voice piped up.

Omega looked down and saw a Nautolan girl looking up at her with wide, sad eyes. She was a rich purple with pale cream markings, dressed in a soft green tunic and brown pants. A bracelet was fastened around her wrist, a chunk of the same crystal as the teen had attached to the simple brown accessory.

“Well…” Omega glanced at Cal, who was giving the youngling with the scaly muzzle a hug. He mouthed “just a bit longer”, and Omega sighed.

“Crosshair’s gonna have our heads for this- okay, we’ll stay for a little bit longer.” She conceded.

Cheers erupted from the gathered younglings. The Nautolan girl and a young Wookie grabbed Omega’s hands and pulled her away.

“Come on! Let’s make flower crowns!” The girl squeaked happily.

Omega laughed and let herself be pulled away.

“Will you train with us? Me and Tiger are gonna practise tree hopping.” The scaly girl asked Cal.

“I guess I could. Don’t expect me to be very good though.” Cal smiled, letting himself be pulled along.

Omega quickly picked up the skill of flower crown making, her hands easily threading the stems. The two younglings chatted on either side of her, although she needed translations for what the Wookie was saying. They told her about everyone who lived in their little hidden crèshe. There was Crèshe Master Azeu Mirthver, Ebba the Bothan, Tiger the Dathomirian, Javeri the Wookie, Xanbi the Nautolan, Chex the Human, Beska the Barabel, and Chi the Togorian. Tiger, Ebby, and Chex were padawans, with Ebby almost ready to become a Jedi Knight. Javerie, Xanbi, Beska, and Chi were still younglings, Beska being the oldest at 10, and Chi being the youngest, only a few months old.

“What’s it like living with a baby?” Omega asked.

“It’s hard. He’s always putting out his emotions, which means you’re either feeling really happy, really tired, or really upset. Me an’ Javeri can’t watch him for too long because we can’t put shields up yet.” Xanbi sighed.

“And he cries when he’s upset! He’s really loud!” Javeri rumbled, Xanbi translating.

“Sounds awful.” Omega frowned.

“It’s not all bad.” Xanbi said, examining her flower crown. “He’s really cute, and he’s fun to play with when he’s happy.”

“Why isn’t he out here with us?” Omega asked.

“Chi’s too little to make flower crowns!” Xanbi and Javeri giggled.

“Oh.” Omega said simply. “I didn’t know. I’ve never actually seen a baby before.”

“What?” Javeri questioned. “Didn’t you see baby clones?”

“No, clones aren’t sent out until they’re physically around your age.” Omega explained. “The Kaminoans do something to make them grow up twice as fast.”

“How old are you?” Xanbi looked up at Omega.

“5 and a half years old.” She replied.

“WHAT!” Both younglings yelped.

“You’re younger than me!” Javeri warbled.

“You’re, like, a little kid!” Xanbi said, dumbfounded.

“Remember, I age twice as fast as you do.” Omega reminded them.

“Why?” Xanbi asked.

Xanbi’s question made Omega’s face turn sad.

“Because clones were made for war. They wanted us to grow up fast so that we could go and fight. If I was a regular clone, I’d be sent off to fight in a few years.” She said softly.

“That’s horrible!” Javeri said. “You can’t make little kids fight! That’s a grown-up thing!”

“It should be.” Omega agreed. “But to the Republic and the Kaminoans, the clones were grown ups.”

The two younglings looked at each other in utter disbelief.

“We’ll change it!” Javeri stated in a serious voice, or at least as serious as a 6 year old could be. “One day, we’ll be big! And we’ll make sure no kids ever have to fight, clones or not!”

Omega gave them hopeful smiles. These kids were the future of the Jedi, and if they could learn from past mistakes, Omega thought that future would be pretty bright.

Cal panted as he leaned against the tree for support. Beside him, Tiger crouched on the branch, the tree limb still shaking from when he had landed. The peach-coloured Dathomirian smiled at him, his milky white eyes shining in the mid-day sun. How a blind boy could jump and land so gracefully, Cal would never know.

“How,” He sucked in a deep breath, “how do you do this so easily?”

“I rely on the Force.” Tiger said with his feather-soft voice. “It guides me. I can feel it constantly.”

“Yeah?” Cal huffed, sweat dripping down his neck. “You and Omega would get along great.”

“The Force loves her. It sings with joy when she’s happy and thunders with anger when she’s not. I could feel its anger when Chex tried to attack her.” Tiger mused. “It won’t let you two stay, you know.”

“What?” Confusion rippled through Cal. What did that mean?

“It wants her to leave, to get away from us. I don’t know why, but her place isn’t here. But she won’t leave without you, and it doesn’t want her to be alone.” He explained.

“How do you know this?” Cal asked.

“I told you, I’m always feeling the Force. She has bonded to you, which is unheard of. Padawans don’t even form bonds like that with other padawans, let alone random Force-sensitives.” Tiger gave him a knowing look. “But you don’t seem to be to keen on the idea of severing the bond while you still can.”

It was true, he didn’t want to loose his connection to Omega. She was a source of comfort in a sea of turmoil, a guiding star to keep him on the Light’s path. He wanted to be the same for her as well, someone that she could go to when she was at her lowest. So what if this wasn’t the Jedi way? The Order was gone, its members left scattered to the wind. The Code, he figured, could be broken a bit if it meant that himself and others might make it to adulthood, to be able to grow up and become the next generation of Jedi.

“Cal!”

He looks down, and there she is, holding a ring of golden and orange flowers, a crown of her own adorning her head, petals of blue and purple hues creating a halo of colour.

“I made you a flower crown! Come down here so that I can put it on you!” She chirped.

A warmth blooms in his chest, and he wonders how the idea of him leaving her can even exist in someone’s mind. Tiger laughs beside him.

“You’re so open around her. Perhaps Master Mirthver can teach you both to reign in your emotions.” He suggests as Cal begins to climb down. “You two are like beacons in the Force when you’re together, it’s how we found you today. If we could track you using your Force signature, so could someone less friendly.”

Cal paused at that. Tiger had a point. If the Jedi had been able to find them, then a Sith definitely could. His stomach roiled in fear at that thought, and he accidentally sent his emotions through his and Omega’s bond.

“Cal?” Omega called, worry in her voice. “You alright?”

“I’m fine!” He called back, shoving his fears into a small place deep down in his chest. Hopefully, she’d think that his emotions had come from him being up so high.

“Do you need help?”

“No, no I got it!”

He shimmied his way down, jumping off once he was low enough. He gave her a reassuring grin, and she returned it with a smile of her own.

“Here!” She chirped, placing the flower crown on his head. “I made this for you!”

He let her put the flowers on his head, bowing his head a bit so she could position it easier. The ring of bright gold and orange sat lightly on his hair, just snug enough to not slide off when he moved.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” He said sincerely, reaching up to feel the soft petals.

“You look so pretty.” Omega gushed.

Cal sputters at that, his cheeks flushing red. “Y-you don’t call boys p-pretty, Omega!”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “What? Says who?”

Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “You know… people.”

Omega snorted. “I don’t care what “people” think, Cal. I think that you’re pretty, and that’s that.” She said, booping his nose.

He blinked, going cross-eyed as he tried to look at where she’d tapped him. Her boldness was stunning, and he found himself feeling a bit more okay about being called pretty.

“You’re pretty too, ‘mega.” He murmured, and he felt his breath stutter at the electric burst of fondness that exploded across their bond.

“You think so?” She asked shyly, although it seemed like she didn’t know why she suddenly felt shy.

“Yeah. Prettiest girl I know.” He said, confident in his answer. If he could make her feel that happy just by giving her a compliment, than he would do it far more often.

Omega beamed at him, her honey-brown eyes positively sparkling.

“If you two start making out, I’m actually going to be sick.”

Chex’s voice shattered their shared serenity. Cal whipped around, missing how Omega’s face wrinkled in confusion. He glared at the older boy, his green eyes turning sharp.

“If you say something like that again, I’m actually going to punch your teeth in.” Cal mimicked Chex’s tone of voice as he made his irritation clear.

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” Chex put his hands up in mock surrender. “Like you could even reach my teeth. You’re such a runt, you’d have to jump.”

“That’s not very Jedi-like of you, Chex.” Cal hissed.

“Yeah well, neither is your attachment.” The older padawan draws out the last word teasingly.

Cal opens his mouth to retort, but suddenly he feels a sharp pang of panic ring out from Omega. Chex turned his head, raising an eyebrow in mildly disinterested confusion as he looked at her.

“What’s wrong with yo-”

“GET DOWN!”

Omega launched forward, tackling Chex to the ground. A screech pierced Cal’s ears, and he stumbled back as a creature burst through the canopy, smashing into the ground where Chex had been seconds ago. Its tail whipped him, sending Cal to the ground. He grunted in pain, curling up into a defensive ball. Clutching his stomach, he could only watch as the beast reared up, snarling.

It was a winged equine, skinny and malnourished with shining blue fur. Dark purple spots that reminded Cal of eyes dotted the animal’s body. It had three talon-like toes, and its wickedly sharp claws dug into the dry earth. A set of powerful feathered wings beat wildly, their teal and pink feathers gusting up dust. Rectangular pupils honed in on Omega and Chex, the black blocks standing out admits the creature’s yellow and orange eyes.

The creature lunged for Omega, dragging her up by her foot and tossing her to the ground. Omega screamed, and Cal could feel his own back explode with pain as she hit the dirt. Fear drove him to try and get up, but he found himself unable to. A warm wetness was beginning to form under his hands, and he instinctively applied pressure. Helpless, he watched horrified as the winged animal kicked at her, it’s sharp hooves slicing through her shirt and leaving bloody marks behind.

“Nrgh! Get away from her!” He shouted, trying to draw the animals attention off of her.

The equine payed him no mind, grabbing at Omega again. It’s wicked fangs closed around her leg, and he felt himself pale when he saw rivets of blood dribble down the beast’s thick neck. Omega was howling in pain at this point, and the sound broke his heart and made him feel like the lowest scum for not being able to help her.

“HEY FEATHER-FACE!”

The animal jerked it’s head to the right. A dusty, angry Chex. His yellow lightsaber crackled fiercely, the glow reflecting off of a stream of blood that dripped down his face from a gash on the side of his head.

“Eat lightsaber!” He yelled, swinging his weapon at the feathered equine. He managed to hit a wingtip, and the creature shrieked, dropping Omega. She hit the ground with a thud, and he saw her eyes go wide as the air rushed out of her lungs.

The aggravated animal snapped and snarled at the teen, the two circling each other. Chex darted forward, slicing into the creature’s flank. It roared and whipped its head around, grabbing Chex’s arm and tossing the teen away. Suddenly, Tiger leapt out of the tree above the animal with a yell, landing on it’s back and grabbing its ears. The equine bucked and brayed, trying to throw Tiger off of its back. Tiger moved to grab his lightsaber, but the animal took advantage of his distraction and swung its tail around and struck Tiger in the head. The Dathomirian yelped in pain and fell, gasping in pain when a hoof struck him in the chest.

The animal was heaving at this point, foamy saliva coating its jaws. It staggered in pain, its injured wing twitching as it made an odd wheezing sound. It lowered its head, growling at the ground as it continued to sway and twitch. Omega let out a high pitched whine, and the animal’s attention snapped towards her. It bellowed and reared up, its hooves poised to come down directly on her chest. Cal closed his eyes and jerked his head away, unwilling to watch his only friend in the whole galaxy die right in front of him.

Bam!

The beast fell silent, then Cal heard a loud thud as it hit the ground. His eyes flew open, his vision now filled with bright blue fur. The animal wasn’t breathing. As quickly as he possibly could, he lifted himself up as much as possible. His ears were full of the sound of his own heart pounding, but he was vaguely aware of the sounds of the other Padawans making noises of pain and calling out for Master Mirthver. His head tilted upwards, and he nearly sobbed in relief when he saw an armored figure crouched on a high up branch.

Crosshair’s presence brought a sense of much needed safety, especially as fatigue grabbed Cal in its iron-clad grip. His head his the dirt again, darkness starting to seep into his vision. As the world faded away, he saw Crosshair rush towards them, unable to decide which child he should attend to first. He must have seemed more injured, because he was soon scooped up into a secure hold and brought closer to Omega. He blinked as Crosshair began speaking in Mando’a, his words too fast and Cal’s hearing too muted to be understood. His head lolled to the side, his cheek resting on Crosshair’s scuffed armor. Omega stared back at him, her eyes full of pain. She was panting shallowly, tears dripping down her face. He reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it as he slipped into unconsciousness.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump[18]#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars #omega bad batch #cal ketsis #crosshair bad batch #jedi oc #padawan oc #youngling oc #whump #tw blood #tw injury #tw animal death #tw animal harm #tw child harm

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deafblindshorty · 4 years ago

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New Resistance Headcanons

So, I made a few posts of headcanons for Star Wars Resistance characters. However, I made those before the series ended and before TROS came out. Now that the both series are over, and we got to know the characters better, I thought of new ones!

Kazuda Xiono:

CB-23 helped Kaz through the loss of Hosnian Prime and PTSD. He didn’t want to give the FO the satisfaction of being broken emotionally, which is why he’s his normal, cheerful self in seaosn 2 (and TROS, apparently)!

When he was little, he wanted to be like his father, that is, until he attended a sky race. Since then, he has wanted to be a racer.

His squadmates from the premiere (Hugh Sion and Mia Gabon) had been his best friends since childhood.

He had every hologame ever created

He never wanted to go to military school. In fact, he did everything he could to get himself expelled. But, when he found out his father was pulling strings to keep him there, he gave in and started behaving better.

He was in his first year of military school when the napkin bombing (In the Bloodline novel) happened. When he heard about it, he freaked out and was really worried about his parents. When he heard that Leia saved all the senators, that’s when he began to admire her. That admiration didn’t fade when he found out she is the daughter of Darth Vader. Of course, his father didn’t agree with him, in fact, they got into a shouting match, which ended with Senator Xiono smacking Kaz across the face and grounding him for an entire season.

Wedge Antilles was Kaz’s flight instructor. He told Kaz stories of the Rebellion, which got Kaz interested in joining the Resistance.

He has gone on a few dates, but the girls he dated were only with him because he was rich or because they felt sorry for him.

He’s actually pretty smart when it comes to academics. He got the scar on the side of his head from a training accident. He tripped and fell onto a sharp ledge and had to have surgery. The injury affected his mobility, which is why he’s so clumsy.

He is (was?) close to his mother, who loves him and supports him in everything he does.

He had a nanny droid who was like a second mother to him.

His mother would take him to the Hanging Gardens and lunch at the cafe there, and Kaz secretly loved it.

He thought about starting a family when he was good and ready, and vows never to treat his children the same way his father treated him.

He has only been drunk once. He stumbled around town and broke into a store and made out with a mannequin. Since then, he vowed never to drink more than one glass per week.

He hated attending Senate dinners and banquets, but, in order to please his father, he kept still and hid his emotions behind a smile.

His only other language is binary, but he picked up a few languages after being on the Colossus.

He often imagined telling Tam, Neeku, and Torra the truth about why he was on the Colossus. Deep down, he knew that Neeku probably would have told the entire station within the hour, and Tam would have turned him in the first chance she got.

After Torra told him she knew he was in the Navy, he was secretly relieved that at least one person besides Yeager knows some truth about who he is. He would tell Torra stories about the Navy and Hosnian Prime. He promised her he would take her there someday.

He started to develop a crush on Torra, but instantly shook off those feelings when he found out how old (well, young) she is. If he pursued her, then Doza would kill him slowly and painfully.

He had nightmares about the Hosnian Cataclysm. Every time he’d close his eyes, he saw Hosnian Prime being destroyed.

He hid his grief for his home and his family and friends from everyone. In private he would sob his eyes out while clutching his lucky trophy like a lifeline, but otherwise, he’d put on a smile. Yeager and Torra know he’s lying, but decided to let him grieve his own way.

He bears no ill will towards the Resistance for not coming to their aid or failing to save the Hosnian System. Instead, he’s grateful they saved his life by recruiting him.

He feels bad about doubting Captain Doza, and even worse when he found out his wife is in the Resistance.

On their way to their missions, Poe would tell Kaz of his adventures throughout his life. Kaz loved hearing those stories, and was surprised to learn that Poe was from Yavin 4.

Deep down, he cannot understand why Tam is so intolerant towards him, but is okay with Neeku.

Initially did not like Yeager that much, but over time, he became like a father to him.

Kaz found a big brother in Poe, a little brother in Kel, and little sisters in Torra and Eila.

When he meets Rey, he is in awe. He’s never met a Jedi before. They instantly hit it off, bonding over mechanic-ing, piloting, and having an evil family member (If Hamato is with the FO).

He tries not to show it, but he is beyond sick of people doubting him and teasing him about his clumsiness and shrieking every five minutes.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to attack Hux at the Titan.

Jumped at the chance to join Lando’s fleet at Exegol.

“Hit those underbelly cannons. Every one we knock out is a world saved.” Kaz knocked out eight: five for the Hosnian system, one for Tehar, one for Aeos, and one for Castilon.

He was shocked that Poe used to be a spice runner, but accepted it and moved on.

He helped the Resistance rebuild and redeem the New Republic.

Yeager:

Yeager was born on Batuu during the end of the Clone Wars. Marcus was born ten years later.

Yeager joined the Rebellion a few months before the destruction of Alderaan.

His parents were killed by the Empire before the Battle of Endor.

He was in Green Squadron with Shara Bey (Poe’s mom).

He met Leia, Han, Luke, Cassian, Mon, Ackbar, Wedge, Norra, Shara, Kes, and Hera. He actually had a little crush on Leia until he heard she was taken.

He met Doza during the Battle of Jakku.

He and his squadron took down the main star destroyer. That destroyer had all the main computers and weapons for the battle.

He met his late wife after he was injured at the Battle of Jakku. She was a doctor.

He looked after Marcus after their parents died.

He and his wife tried for many years to conceive a child, finally succeeding nine years after the Battle of Jakku.

His ship was named after his late wife, Ayala.

He babysat Poe a few times.

He was there for Poe and Kes after Shara died.

After the death of his family, he punched Marcus, told him he never wanted to see him again, then disappeared.

Like Kaz, Yeager grieved in private. He became emotionally detached. When he hugged Marcus after the Platform Classic, that was the very first time he hugged someone since his family died.

Each night, he’d take his family photo to bed and talk to it about his day.

When Tam applied for a job at his shop, Yeager was instantly reminded of his late daughter (as well as Marcus). He accidentally called Tam by his daughter’s name once. They never spoke of the incident again. Tam was everything Yeager imagined his daughter would be like.

Over the years, he came across attractive women, but he never acted on them because he felt he’d be betraying his family.

The destruction of the Hosnian System reminded Yeager of Alderaan and his own family’s deaths. He hugged Kaz, but it was uncomfortable for both of them.

He was initially glad that Poe didn’t recruit him for the spy mission, but as he grew to care about Kaz, he kind of wished he agreed to do it in the first place.

Tam:

Tam was born on Kuat. Her mother died when she was a baby.

Once she was old enough, her father dragged her along to all of his races.

She heard stories about the Empire and the Rebellion from her father, who watered it down.

Her grandfather was actually forced to work at that Imperial factory. Sort of a reversed Jyn and Galen thing. Jyn thought Galen worked for the Empire because he loved it and hated him for it, but realized he was forced to work for the Empire. Tam actually loved her grandfather for working for the Empire, and thought he worked at that factory because he loved it.

Tam’s father died of bloodburn when she was eighteen.

Tam was angry after losing her ship and that race. Yeager calmed her down and talked to her a few times about it. He became like a father to her.

Hype was her first real friend. When he forgot all about their friendship, Tam took it really hard.

She was hesitant upon making friends with Neeku, but over time they became really good friends.

After Kaz joined Team Fireball, and everything that’s happened afterwards, she felt like her world was collapsing at an alarming rate. Kaz took her friends, her ship, and her father figure. She even envisioned smothering Kaz in his sleep.

She was surprised when Supreme Leader Ren wanted to meet with her. They bonded over joining the FO because they were lied to and deceived.

She gave the Fireball to Kaz, feeling that she doesn’t deserve it after everything that happened.

Neeku:

Neeku grew up on Tatooine (he came from a long line of bantha herders, and his species prefer desert climates).

He is the anti-Anakin: loves sand, was born and raised free, and did not like racing; but loved watching races.

He is either autistic or he has Asperger's.

He spent some time at Mos Eisley, which is where he’s seen bounty hunters.

When he arrived at the Colossus, he wandered around trying to make friends.

He and Rey would instantly bond over growing up on desert planets and being mechanics.

#star wars #star wars resistance #headcanons #star wars headcanons #sw headcanons #kazuda xiono #jarek yeager #tamara ryvora #neeku vozo

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loveafterthefact · 4 years ago

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 23: Duct and Cover

I stand by this terrible pun

First Previous Next

Pidge adjusted their eyeware, inspecting the Balmeran crystals Hunk had brought them. “Yes, these should do. Thank you.”

“Of course. Shay was happy for an excuse to call her brother.”

“The brother who hates you?”

“That’s the one.”

“Mnh. I’ll never understand that man. Oh! How is Shay? She's pretty far along now, right?”

“She’s due in a few phoebs. And she’s well, thanks for asking. Chasing after Rosetta is becoming difficult. I might see if Lance wants to borrow her. Get his baby fix.”

“You people. Squirting your DNA at each other. So uncivilized. So underevolved.”

“Whatever you say, Pidge.”

“Keith agrees with me.”

“For now… So what are you gonna do with the crystals?”

Pidge rummages around their workroom, digging for their toolkit. “Well, I stumbled across some old research of Alfor’s. Before Lance was born, he’d been looking into whether Balmeran crystals are biocompatible. Things that are compatible for some other species, like coral or ceramic, are not compatible with Alteans, limiting the use of more advanced prosthetics and cosmetic modifications. Alfor suggested that due to its unique ability to absorb, store, and distribute quintessence, Balmeran crystal might be biocompatible.

“But after Lance was born, he just kind of… discarded it.”

“That’s brilliant, Pidge. Have you contacted Ryner back on Olkarion?”

“Yes. She’s fascinated by the idea. As am I.” Pidge finally found their toolkit under a pile of digital blueprints of a Galran barrow. “It’ll be tricky. There are so many variables. I’ve also requested samples from Balmera T-672 and B-43 for comparison.”

Hunk carefully clears a space at Pidge’s worktable so they can lay out the crystal samples. “It’s okay, right? To hand off Rosetta to Keith and Lance? I mean, it won’t make Keith uncomfortable or anything?”

“Pfft. No. He threw someone across the training room the other day because they asked why they should take orders from a ‘stunted little freak’. Apparently they forgot exactly who they were talking to. If you came onto him he might be uncomfortable, but other than that, I think you’ll be fine.”

“So what are we doing exactly?” Hunk asked, passing a small toolkit and a camera to Pidge. They climb up into the ducts, arranging supplies.

“I am sneaking into Alfor’s lab to eavesdrop. You are going to be my backup. I’d let you be my full partner in this, but if you get fired, your family will starve. If I get fired, I live here in the ducts and make Alfor’s life hell.”

“You say as you make me your accessory in this crime. Also, I thought you had a feed in there.”

“Eh, Lance’ll come through for you. I have faith. I did, but it’s gone now. Like, the entire unit has been removed and destroyed. He probably suspects it’s me, but I used a generic device just in case.”

“I suppose… Why specifically are you sneaking into Alfor’s lab?” Hunk passes up a coil of rope. They have more advanced toys, of course, but sometimes Pidge likes to go back to the basics.

“Because. Lance says that there’s a rumor going around that there’s still unrest between Altea and Daibazaal. He’s got his cronies, that is you, me, Adam, and Lanval, running around trying to find the truth in it. Alfor spends almost all of his time in there, but he’s in the training yard right now, so it might be our chance.”

“But…” Hunk twiddles his thumbs. “It’s just court gossip, right? Totally nothing.”

Pidge presses their long, long fingers to their forehead. “Hunk, gossip is never ‘just’ gossip. Like legends, there’s always some truth to it. Comms check.”

“Comms check,” Hunk repeats, adjusting the mic dangling from his earpiece as Pidge’s voice chimes.

“Comms are go.” Pidge gets on their belly in the duct, crawling forward with the rope slung over their shoulder, toolkit at their belt, a camera strapped to their head. They activate a tiny, holographic map set into a device on their wrist. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about armor lately.”

“Could you think about it later? Y'know, when we're not about to get our asses court martialed?”

“And more discreet weapons. Teleporting, returning weapons? And like, better shields? Oooh, how about- oof!” Pidge rubs the top of their head, grimacing as their feelers trembled with the duct's reverb. They’d run into the wall of the duct. Hmm… do they go left, or right? They check their map. Right.

“How about you pay attention to what you’re doing right now?” Hunk mumbles. Pidge rolls their eyes. “And we can talk about armor later, after we’ve gotten away with treason.”

“‘Kay.” Pidge crawls along. “Found it,” they whisper, carefully popping out a vent like the one they crawled through. The gripping pads of their fingers cling to the metal, making sure it doesn't clatter to the ground.

“What do you see?”

“Hm. A ton of nothing.” There’s nothing. Well, actually there’s a ton of stuff. Alembics, beakers, flasks, test tubes, burners, scales, weird stuff in jars, a suspension chamber, quintessence capsules full of glowing blue liquid… It’s just an alchemy lab, albeit an incredibly well-supplied one. “I’m going to descend.”

Reaching the floor, there’s still nothing. Pidge looks around tilting their head so that their asymmetrical ears catch more sounds. Humming emptiness. “Something’s definitely off.”

“How so?” Hunk whispers, leaning forward to eye Pidge’s feed. The young Olkari runs their spindly fingers over a table. It comes up- “Is that dust?”

“Yes,” Pidge whispers. “Why? How? Alfor enters this room every day after breakfast and doesn’t leave until it’s at least time for dinner.”

“Maybe he’s using another table?”

Pidge hums skeptically, but checks around. Everything is dusty. They study the wear patterns in the floor. Too much wear. There's dust collected under the tables, but everywhere open is clear, thanks to the stupid cloaks these royals wear. Clearly, Alfor had paced and flitted all over this lab at one point. “No good. Hmm…”

Pidge pulls up their map of the ducts, notices a large space right next to the lab. “Hunk, can you check the castle map? I want to know what’s next to the lab on the east side.”

“Sure.” Pidge waits. “Pidge? Yeah, there’s nothing. Just space.”

“Yeah, right. I’m so sure.” Pidge shimmies up the rope back into the duct, replacing the vent one they’re back in. Negative space can be tricky. There’s no telling what’s in negative space. “Scanning for surveillance… Scan complete. No surveillance equipment detected, but I am detecting electronics. Okay so if I cut here-” Pidge indicates a panel in the duct. “I should be able to see something. If not, we’ll go from there.”

They pull out a miniature blow torch, cutting a hole in the side of the duct. They love this kind of work. It’s fun playing Lance’s spy.

“Okay, friend. Please be careful. And don’t do anything that’ll make Shay a widow, okay?”

“I will. And I won’t. I promise. As soon as I’m done, you can go back to your gross domestic life.” Pidge finishes with the duct.

“Uh-huh. Speaking of my gross domestic life, are you still coming over for dinner tomorrow?”

“Absolutely! It’s been ages since I saw Rosetta! Okay.” Pidge sticks the adhesive pads of their fingers to the siding, pushing it out so they can turn it to fit through the hole they’ve made. “Woah.”

“Woah,” Hunk parrots. “That explains the electronics you detected. What are we looking at?”

Pidge stares down at a large room of holographs and screens. In the middle of the room, there’s a particularly large table with a holographic top. Hovering, glittering in the dim room, is a perfect three-dimensional replica of Daibazaal. “A war room. We’re looking at a war room.”

Holding the panel of the duct steady with their sticky fingers, Pidge carefully seals the cut out section back into place. They lay on their stomach in the duct, thinking.

“Oh mother earth, are we still at war? Has this all been for nothing? What if-”

“Most likely scenario is that Alfor doesn’t trust the Galra. The one thing he’s very good at is killing people. He’s probably planning for just in case.”

“Okay, but what if he’s not? If we go to war again, the first thing that’s going to happen is that Keith will be killed! Not to mention Allura and Romelle in the fallout. Even Keith couldn’t fight off the entire Altean Army!”

“No, he couldn’t. We don’t have time right now to go in and see what’s up, so in the meantime, we’ll make plans of our own. Lance won’t stand for this. He, Keith, Allura, Romelle, and Lotor have already given up so much for this alliance, and every time Lance reaches out to Daibazaal for advice they’ve been nothing but cordial and helpful. He’ll likely side with them. At this point, the Galra are more likely to do well by his people.”

“And we’ll side with him, right?”

“Absolutely.” It’s not even a question for Pidge.

“We have to tell him, don’t we,” hunk murmurs, saying it more as a statement than a question. “Before we figure out what’s really going on?”

“He sent us here. He’ll expect a report today and knows we can deliver.”

“Keith only just started to feel safe here.”

“Yeah.” Pidge sighs, scoots backward, working their way through the ducts until they land feet-first in their workroom. “But if Alfor can plot and scheme, then so can we.”

“Uh-huh. But… Maybe we could…” Hunk fidgets. “Scheme tomorrow?”

Pidge sighs, smiles at their friend. “Sure, Hunk. We’ll scheme tomorrow. I’ll brief Lance myself. Thanks for the crystals.”

Hunk picks Pidge up in a tight hug. “You’re welcome. Let me know if you need more. And I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner. We can put the baby to bed and scheme over alcohol that's not nunvil.”

Pidge smiles wider, waves as Hunk leaves. Once he’s gone, they let their smile drop. Had they both really agreed to betray Altea so easily?

Quiznak, this place is such a mess.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #altean lance #galra keith #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

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gingerpeachtae · 5 years ago

Text

Concentric [20]

masterlist

Words: 4.4k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: n/a

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Thank you everyone for being so patient again. I’m so grateful to have such wonderful readers 💙

Jimin hoisted himself up through the tree limbs, his heart feeling the lightest it had in days. Full of hope and potential and acceptance.

The bark of his father’s draeva scraped his palms as he climbed higher. The branches scratched against his face as he wove, twisted, and turned through the maze of limbs. The occasional leaf tickled his skin.

A forceful breeze rustled the tree just as the handprint burned into the wood came into sight.

Jimin heaved his strong, lithe body onto the thick branch that was just below the mark and crouched down to balance himself in the blowing wind.

Below him, he knew Jiae and Mingi were watching, hoping. For it to work this time. For him to use whatever key was inside of him and unlock the secret held within the draeva. For them to finally get answers.

With a deep breath, the half-Saeni briefly closed his eyes and did his best to do what you had suggested. To drop whatever mental wall he had constructed against the father he never knew. Slowly letting out the air, Jimin opened his brown eyes and raised his free hand. After flexing his fingers once, he then reached out.

Fingertips lightly met the black mark.

A jolt shuddered through his fingers, trailing up his hand, through his arm, and into his entire his entire body.

Jimin stiffened as he gasped in air, his eyes going wide as the jolt transformed into a surge of something.

“Hello, Jimin.” A warm, feminine voice floated into his head. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The apricot-head recoiled as his sight went blurry and began to go white at the edges. His body grew numb and heavy. He felt himself start to teeter to the side, losing his balance.

“It’ll be okay,” the voice soothed. “This will help you understand.”

Then, as his foot slipped and he heard a distant scream of his name, Jimin lost all feeling in his body.

He fell, his eyes rolling back into his head.

But all he could see was a blinding white.

Until the white exploded into a collection of flashing images... memories that were not his own.

She is nothing. Just a thought, a fleeting moment, a consciousness scattered across an endless sky.

She is formed. Gentle hands, slender limbs, and glittering eyes reminiscent of a rainbow.

She is not alone. To one side is a female with a sharp features and strength running through her bones. Sister. To the other side, a male with contemplative eyes and half-black, half-white hair. Brother. They give her a name: Illai.

She creates life. Her feet meet the barren ground softly as she radiates a soft, white light. In her wake, trees and flowers sprout and expand over the earth.

She meets a stranger. He expels an inky darkness, so different from her pure light. But he has playfulness in his ruby eyes. It draws her in.

She falls in love. Stolen glances turn to kisses and he gifts her the night, so she may see the twinkling lights in the darkness. Soon after, promises of forever are whispered in her ear.

She births children. Each of them take charge of a different season, making the world cycle and turn.

She grows stronger. From the seeds of a tree, she brings forth a race to inhabit the world. She names them ‘Saeni,’ after the tree species of which they are born. To her disappointment, she is never able to grow that tree again.

She discovers manifested chaos. As her powers grow, so do her lover’s. Death, despair, darkness. It seeps into the souls of Saeni, and it all stems from the male at her side.

She ignores her siblings’ warnings. They see it in his eyes. How his powers begin to consume him and drive him mad.

She doesn’t notice it, too lost in his touch and promises.

She watches by as peace slowly falls apart.

She watches as smoke and darkness invades the minds of all living creatures.

She watches as the playfulness behind his eyes turns sinister.

She watches as the world starts to burn with anarchy.

She watches until she finally realizes he’s no longer the male he once was.

She betrays her lover. It’s cold and damp. She hears the shaking of chains and screams of anger. She shivers. His ruby eyes hate her. She extracts part of his power as tears leak down her cheeks.

She runs.

She heals the world.

But not herself.

She makes herself remember the pain, the darkness.

She makes herself carry the piece of his heart she removed. Wisps of black smoke constantly swirl around her, bringing little bits of chaos into the world.

She makes herself remember the male that gave her the night sky and fathered her children.

The male with ruby eyes who whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

The male she loves. The male she locked away. The male she will never let herself forget.

Her dark star. Her Uzjuk.

You gaped at your best friend as he continued to kneel on the ground, his eyes still a swirling sea of changing colors.

As you blinked rapidly as if it were a trick of your eyes, you felt Jungkook shift closer to you. Stealing a quick glance at your boyfriend, you saw he had a set jaw and narrowed eyes as he warily regarded his apricot-headed brother.

Returning your eyes to the half-Saeni, you held your breath while Jiae gingerly reached her delicate hand out to touch Jimin’s shoulder and whisper his name.

Your best friend slowly turned his head to take in the lilac-haired female next to him and shook his head with a soft smile. “He’s not here right now, dear.”

You, Jiae, and every other Saeni bristled at his words. He still looked like your Jimin. He still sounded like your Jimin. But something was off. Something was not right.

It was in the stiff movements of his body, like he wasn’t used to it. It was in the way he looked at everyone, as if he didn’t recognize who you were. It was in the way his eyes were now goddamn rainbows.

“I’m not surprised you don’t know who I am,” Not-Jimin said as he folded his hands together at his torso. “This is not how I usually appear in the paintings or stories.”

Mingi hastily pulled Jiae to her feet and yanked her behind him as he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. “So, who are you exactly?”

Most of the kiela also cautiously rested their hands on their weapons, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. In Yoongi’s case, he rose to his feet and trained his lightly glowing hands on his brother. To your surprise, however, was that Jungkook did not reach for his dagger or for one of his short swords over his shoulder. Instead, he gripped your hand tighter and took a small step forward, so that he was in front of you. With wide eyes, you tried to tug him back, but he refused to move an inch.

With a huff, you peeked around Jungkook’s form and you saw Not-Jimin bow his head slightly. “I am the one who gave you all life.”

Could this wanker be anymore cryptic? What’s going on? But more importantly, what the fuck happened to Jimin!?

To mask your rising panic, you rolled your eyes at the vague answer.

Not-Jimin caught sight of your action and let out a tinkle of laughter. “Well, all of you but one.”

As your brows furrowed in confusion, a quiet breeze picked up and shook the leaves.

As the trees trembled in the wind and made the shade cast by the leaves sway, Not-Jimin closed his kaleidoscope eyes and breathed in deeply.

“It has been a long time since I was able to experience the world this way. I’ve missed it.”

Under your breath, you whispered a “what the fuck?” and raised your free hand to grip Jungkook’s wrist as you stared in heated befuddlement at Not-Jimin.

Meanwhile, Yoongi carefully observed the kneeling half-Saeni and slowly moved his pink eyes to Namjoon, who appeared to be in contemplation.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Yoongi asked his yellow-eyed brother.

Before Namjoon could answer, Not-Jimin opened his eyes and smiled at them. “If you’re thinking that I am your mother goddess, then you would be correct.”

All at once, the Saeni’s eyes widened. Jin and Hobi’s mouths dropped open and Tae even stumbled back in surprise. Yoongi let go of his magic, the hint of glowing blue disappearing immediately while Jungkook sucked in a breath sharply. Mingi gaped, and Jiae gasped as she covered her mouth with a hand. In a blink of an eye, all cautious hostility aimed at the apricot-head vanished and was replaced with shock.

What the…?

At the same time, anger bubbled up within you. What were they doing? Are they forgetting that that wasn’t their brother? That Jimin was basically gone!?

The thought had you breathing heavily, and you yanked your hand out of Jungkook’s. At the loss of contact, the male quickly turned to you with concern filling his peridot eyes.

Seeing how upset you were, he reached toward your face. “Y/N-”

“No!” You swatted his hand away, stepped back, and glared at him, the others, and Not-Jimin. “Where is he?”

The anger was hurriedly switching to panic as you were met with silence. Your heavy breaths turned rapid and you felt your eyes sting as you pointed at the imposter still kneeling on the ground.

“That’s not Jimin, so where is he!?” You helplessly peered between Jungkook and Not-Jimin as you wrapped your arms round yourself in an attempt to gain comfort.

You wanted Jungkook, no, needed him, to tell you where your best friend was. You basically just got him back, he had just told you he wanted to be normal with you again and now he was gone.

Wordlessly, Jungkook pulled you into his arms and cradled you close, whispering that everything was going to be alright. Between his quiet assurances, you heard Tae sadly call your name.

“It seems you are still confused as to who I am so let me introduce myself.” You heard Not-Jimin speak up in a patient tone.

Taking several deep breaths, you turned your head where it rested against Jungkook’s chest to glare at the person who stole your best friend’s body and voice.

“I am Illai.” He bowed his head to you slightly. “The life goddess and mother of all living things in this world.”

You raised a skeptical brow. This bitch really expects me to believe that?

Scoffing, you looked up at Jungkook, but he only gave you a tiny nod. Rearing back at his response, you looked at the others and all of them seemed to actually believe this was a goddess inhabiting Jimin’s body.

“Little scorja…?” Tae worriedly called to you again as you dug your fingers into your scalp.

Okay. Okay. Okay. So maybe a goddess is possessing my best friend. But what in the hell gave her the right to do that!?

Fury once again erupted within you as you let your hands drop from your head and you marched over to the self-acclaimed goddess.

You dropped to a crouch and seethed, “I don’t give a rat’s ass who or what you are, now where the fuck is Jimin?”

“Y/N!” You heard Jiae gasp out in an appalled manner beside you.

Ignoring her, you stared deep into the rainbow eyes that should be brown like tiger’s eye gemstones. “Answer. Me.”

Illai blinked at you once. “He’s living my past as I live his present.”

You clenched your fists and fumed internally as you breathed in sharply through your nose. Can we stop with the vague responses? Oh my fuckin-

Your thoughts were cut off as strong arms wrapped around your torso and lifted you off the ground. Yelling out, you tried to break free, but Jungkook shushed you and continued to carry you away from the source of your outrage.

As you cursed at your boyfriend to put you down, you heard Namjoon and Jin meekly apologize to the goddess, which only made your anger spike once more.

Why are they apologizing when she’s the one possessing Jimin!?

“Calm down,” Jungkook harshly whispered into your ear as he plopped down on the ground in a sun patch and held you captive between his arms and legs.

He carried your flailing form far enough from the others that they wouldn’t need to worry about you running over and smacking a certain goddess, but he stayed close enough that you could still hear snippets of their conversations.

“I’m worried and confused and mad too, fuck, you have no idea how much, but you need to calm down, okay?”

You hung your head and did your best to do as Jungkook said, because you knew he was right. You let his comforting scent wash over you and took deep breaths as he held you tightly and kissed your neck and cheek. His lips and the cold silver of his earring trailing against your skin helped distract you from your mess of emotions.

“Strange that she is not of this world, yet she shares a draeva connection with him.” You heard the goddess comment and you felt your breath hitch because she was talking about you and Jungkook.

“Shhh.” Your boyfriend nuzzled into you and you felt yourself instantly relax. “It’s okay. I got you. I always got you.”

Slowly, your breathing became even once more but you continued to focus on Jungkook and the sunlight enwrapping you. After another minute, you finally felt in control of yourself again and you murmured a thanks to the male holding you.

“Are you okay to go back or do you want to stay here?” He asked you softly.

Replying that you wanted to go back, he hummed and lightly grabbed your chin to tilt your face back toward him. After pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, he let his hand trail down until it rested over the choker at your neck. You felt your breath catch again, this time for an entirely different reason from before, and he lowly chuckled while planting another kiss on your head and heaving you both to your feet. Intertwining your fingers, he waited for you to give him a final, confirming nod that you were good before leading you back to the others, who were now all sitting on the ground before the goddess. As you rejoined the group, you heard them speaking of the draikensu and Illai was frowning at Namjoon’s descriptions.

At your return, Tae bolted to his feet and gave you a big hug. Then, he took ahold of your free hand and tugged you forward. As you sat down between the two males holding your hands, you bit your lip and swallowed your negative emotions as you looked at the goddess inhabiting your best friend’s body. Illai smiled at you, but it wasn’t Jimin’s smile. The eyes didn’t squish closed.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to speak up. “I’m sorry, though I hope you can understand my… apprehension… to the situation.”

The goddess nodded at you. “It is quite alright. I know this is not what you were expecting.”

“Not in the fucking slightest,” you muttered beneath your breath.

She regarded you with gentle eyes. “And so you know, Jimin is quite safe and will return once I leave his body.”

Jungkook squeezed your hand and you heard him exhale in relief.

“If you will allow me to, I will explain how and why I am here.”

When nobody objected, the goddess expressed her thanks. “I will try to keep this relatively short, since my time here is not limitless.

“Millennia ago, it was just me and my siblings. We existed, but that was all. We walked the earth but had no calling. We simply lived. Then one day I came across a stranger. He had ebony hair and eyes that glinted like red gems. He radiated a dark, powerful energy, but he had playfulness in his eyes and a kind face. His name was Uzjuk.”

Your eyes bugged out. Uzjuk was a god!?

“From your reactions, I take it you’ve heard of him?” Illai inquired, and you silently confirmed with a small nod.

Namjoon closed his eyes for a moment before replying, “The draikensu I had been talking of, they’ve mentioned the name before. It seems as though they follow his bidding.”

The goddess sighed as her expression dropped into something melancholic. “He’s always been ambitious and mischievous, but when we met, he was a light-hearted and caring male. He dreamed of creating a world where we could live in wonder, happiness, and adventure. He gifted me the night sky so I could see the stars. He would chase me through meadows and kiss me beneath the moon. He would hold me so gently.”

You tilted your head to the side as you came to a realization. “You loved him.”

Illai’s thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of her hand as she met your gaze, eyes still shifting colors though they seemed to be dominated by blues. “I still do. At least, the small part of him that is still the male I once knew.”

“What happened?” Jiae asked tentatively while the wind died down and created an eerie stillness.

Illai explained that it all started shortly after the birth of their children, the four seasonal gods. Her power had grown after their conception and grew further once they were brought into the world. With her increased power, she created the Saeni race. But in doing so, she unknowingly initiated her lover’s demise. While she was the goddess of light and life, he was the god of darkness and pain. Before the creation of the Saeni, there had been little for Uzjuk to have influence over, but as the population of the Saeni grew, so did Uzjuk’s power and desire to command his will over others.

“My siblings were the first to notice, as I was too in love to realize his change. But they saw it. How his eyes would turn harsh and deadly. How his power began to overpower his soul.”

The goddess went on to describe how Exia and Juufa tried to warn her about her lover. To make her see the truth. But she was blind to the chaos erupting in the world. She couldn’t imagine that the sweet, playful male she loved would ever be capable of doing such a thing.

“Because of my ignorance, so many Saeni suffered. They were consumed by his darkness and driven to kill and inflict pain upon others. So much blood spilled. So many lives taken. By the time I woke up to the truth and saw his destruction, he was no longer the same male I fell in love with. He had changed entirely. He had become twisted and corrupted by his own power.

“I begged and pleaded with him to stop it, but he would only sneer and laugh. It broke my heart. Seeing the world suffer every day because of him broke my heart. Every single day I saw him unleash chaos made me shatter more and more.

“It went on for years. Endless pleading and so much death and pain until finally, with Exia’s help, I managed to trick him and lock him away deep underground in our celestial plane.”

You all stayed still, silently absorbing her story. Not even the birds or the bugs made any noise.

Then, Jin asked in a breathless voice. “Has he escaped? Is that how the draikensu follow his orders?”

Illai shook her head. “No, he’s still locked away… mostly.”

Seeing your questioning looks, she elaborated, “I chained him, but before I left, I took a piece of his heart with me. The world has to stay in balance, meaning there needs to be some darkness and pain present. A little bit of chaos. But by having part of him free, he can sometimes claw his way into people’s minds.

“The former king’s wife is one of those who had been infected by his power. When she learned of the king’s affair with Jimin’s mother, she was so consumed with the thought of not being good enough, so torn apart and angry that her husband would go to a human for pleasure instead of her, that she inadvertently opened herself up to Uzjuk’s will. It usually happens during dreams. He will creep into your mind and try to drown you with your fears and pain. Try to make you succumb to them and turn you into his subject; a dark, violent version of yourself.”

Jungkook stiffened beside you and tightened his hold on your hand while you went still as you remembered the dream you had before the fight at the village. How you had been surrounded by inky, swirling black. How Jungkook’s face had cracked and fell apart. How you had almost sunk into the darkness.

Had that been Uzjuk? You shuddered at the possibility, feeling violated and disgusted.

The goddess continued, expressing how the Saeni who leads the draikensu must have experienced something so traumatic that it latched on to what little of Uzjuk’s power that was present and opened a rift between the physical world and their celestial plane, thus presenting the god a chance to slowly ooze out and break free from his chains.

“It would make sense why there’s so many Saeni turning dark.” Namjoon noted as he pinched the bridge of his nose in incredulity. “The rift is letting more of his influence escape.”

“Precisely.” Illai agreed with the yellow-eyed male. “And as the world turns more chaotic, even more of him escapes.”

“So how do we close it? Destroying the rift should cut off his influence,” Hobi commented as he took out a blade to nervously mess with, “well most of it besides the piece you took.”

“I’m going to guess this is where our brother comes into play.” Yoongi added as he placed a reassuring hand on Hobi’s arm.

“Yes. I made an agreement with Jimin’s ancestor. In exchange for having some of my blood run through his and his descendants’ veins, I would be allowed to temporarily take over their bodies if this situation were to ever happen.” Illai’s rainbow eyes shone brightly with determination. “If you get Jimin to the origin of the rift, I will be able to close it.”

You couldn’t hold back the quiet snort that escaped past your lips. “So all this ‘key’ stuff is that Jimin is just a fleshy Uber for a celestial being? Cool. Nice. I was hoping for a dragon or something more flashy.”

Jungkook nudged you with his shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you nudged him right back. “Oh, come on, Coco. Even you have to admit that it’s pretty ridiculous.”

“I don’t know what an ‘Uver’ is, and don’t call me ‘Coco.’” Although he tried to sound serious, he wasn’t able to fully mask the smile teasing at his lips.

Tae leaned over and whispered in your ear, “What’s an Uber?”

“Not the time, hyung.” Jungkook murmured back before you could answer, making his brother pout.

Jiae brought a hand up over her heart as she looked down at her lap. “That’s why they’re targeting Chim, because if he was dead then there would be no way for you to close the rift and stop Uzjuk.”

You let out a long exhale. “They’ll keep targeting him for the rest of his life unless we close it. Not to mention the world will probably fall to shit if we don’t.”

“How do we find it? The rift?” Tae piped up while worriedly tugging at his headband.

“Now that I am connected to Jimin, I will be able to pinpoint the location and guide him in his mind.”

Alrighty then, back to GPS Jimin I guess.

“My time is almost up. I cannot stay for much longer without injuring Jimin’s body.” Rainbow eyes traveled over the group until they rested on Yoongi. “If you have been wondering, young magic user, how the draikensu were able to find you despite your glamours, Jimin had a tracker on him. It was old and fading out, but still very much so active.”

Yoongi’s petal pink eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out.

“I removed it so no need to worry, just be more careful and aware in the future, yes?”

The mint-haired Saeni’s jaw snapped shut and he nodded. A few sparks of blue light began to escape from his palms, giving away how annoyed he was for missing such a thing, but otherwise the Saeni remained silent. Hobi shifted and placed a hand over the magic user’s sparking ones and the light gradually died out beneath his touch.

“By now, Uzjuk will have felt my presence in the physical world and will most likely change whatever course he is on to guard the rift, so I urge you all to hurry. I apologize for the circumstances of our meetings and for causing you worry. I will leave you for now… I hope to meet you all again in better times.” The goddess spoke in a light, hopeful tone before smiling one last time.

Then, her ever-shifting eyes rolled back, and she collapsed to the side.

Jimin’s body went limp and all of you scrambled over to him anxiously. To your relief, you could see his chest moving up and down, indicating that he was breathing and indeed still alive. At the sight you sagged against Jungkook, who wrapped his arms around you, and you watched as Yoongi’s hands once again flared up and pressed against your best friend’s chest. The magic user sent a pulse of magic into his body and in the next instant, Jimin’s eyes shot open and he began sucking in air deeply.

Jiae cried out his name and grabbed his face in her small hands. As if he was disoriented, Jimin blinked several times until he was able to focus on her face.

“Jiae?”

The lilac-haired female breathed out a sob and tackled the half-Saeni in a hug.

Everyone else leaned back and caught their breath, but you just stared at Jimin’s face. Taking in the brown of his irises and the squishing of his eyes as he smiled into Jiae’s neck.

He was back. Your Jimin was back.

You smiled to yourself and held on to Jungkook’s arms as the trees swayed above you.

Jimin was back. He was fine.

But everything just got so much more complicated.

previous [19] — next [21]

taglist: @cookied-dreams @apurpledheart @james-herondale023 @lorengarcia-yut @kittycuptea @toddsgirl27 @a-feeling-of-euphoria @treatpeoplewithkindnesshoe @kthdior @taigaajin @lylanie12 @kassandravictoria @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore

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callsigndreadfrost · 4 years ago

Note

14, 15, 17, 25, 32, 36, and 46! Caveat is 25 has to be answered by at least the big three, J, A, and L! Otherwise go w/whoever uwu

Lol so you know what? Let's just triple it up for all Qs because why not.

14. Do they look up to anyone?

Loke: His mom. She's always been there for as far back as he can remember. She taught him a lot of what she knew about healing, her fighting style which when mixed in with his dad's made him a threat. She also managed to teach him an arcane attack her tribe uses which was a huge deal since regular berserkers can't use magic. He always hung around her and kind of hero worshipped her as one of the most wisest women and fiercest warriors. He learned everything she taught him and he even became the field medic because of her.

He always thought of her as a mother even before Sanaa and Ingvarr married and she was okay with it so when they DID marry he was ecstatic.

Jelani: His mom and grandpa Haakon. His mom taught him everything she taught Loke. Everyone was sure he was an arcane berserker just like her so she taught him magic as well but like Loke it never really stuck. The bit he learned he did on his own and it wasn't anything he'd been taught but he modified it to mimic his mom's lessons as best he could. She naturally taught him of her people and culture and he was always stunned at her accomplishments and was a positive influence in his life. Unbeknownst to him his parents but especially his mother helped in making him more "human" if that makes especially during his teens when his previous self was kinda threatening to emerge.

His grandpa was a huge influence on him and emotional support. Thing is Haakon always had a suspicion that he was something entirely else but Jela did as well difference is that Jela felt really alienated because of it and was often afraid of that but Haakon always made sure to make him feel better about his differences and would often sooth his feelings of alienation. He was also an extremely accepting and open minded person and he learned a lot of compassion from him.

Angelus: Ever since he was in his grandpa's custody he was surrounded by people who influenced him and shaped him into the man he currently is. So he has a lot of people he looks up to. Trevor introduced him to a woman he looked up to (so much so that he took her surname). Ravencroft was a werewolf and the first exposure Angelus had to the arcane. Because of her he became intrested in magic and decided to learn it. She showed him all that was possible within the arcane and pointed him in the right direction to get started and ever since then he's continued.

Between Jelani, Loke and Trevor he learned to write, read and speak (as in forming coherent sentences) and he learned confidence from them.

Aleksey taught him everything from his family history, got him the help he needed and taught him all there is to know about werewolves and what it meant to be one. He also taught him to read, write and speak Sumerian and Russian.

15. Who is their best friend?

Loke: Okay, so like, Jelani is his best friend. Those two are like THE definition of unconditional love.

However, Abigail is also his best friend. They really got to know each other when she was his spotter for a wet works and from then on it's like thick as thieves. They've even been mistaken for a couple but it's because of how they talk to each other and behave with each other. Abby has no closely related living relatives so on her wedding he walked her down the aisle.

Really close to a best friend is Trevor. First person he ran up to when he found out he was gonna be a dad was Lo. I've never mentioned them being best friends because they've never given it much thought. When they first met Trevor didn't trust him but it wasn't personal. Then he found out that Jelani, who he was hanging out with a lot, was Lo's younger brother and when he saw how they were with each other he liked Lo even less but this was because how they treated each other reminded him of him and his younger brother who'd died of pneumonia. Lo found out Trev was uncomfortable around him so he gave him the space he needed until one day they just started talking and got along pretty well. As the years went by they just kind of hung out a lot. And then a lot of years later they fucked for a while and then just stayed really good occasionally fuck buddies especially after Jelani and Angelus became boyfriends.

Jelani: Let's get the obvious answer outta the way first. It's Loke. Those two would die for each other and on several occasions have actually almost died protecting each other. They're never far apart for long, neither of them like it.

There's also Trevor who's been a really good friend ever since they met. At one point Trev became the third one in the group and the three of them were inseparable.

And many, many, years later Jelani and Trevor fucked for a while. I like to think their friendship is really solid. Was a little rocky after Jela was crushing on borderline in love with him but things went back to normal after Jela got over it.

Angelus: Well, first and foremost it's Ginger. They liked each other the second they met but as soon as each they found out that they were both arcanists it was like heart eyes motherfucker! Like Loke and Abigail they're a power duo in the field and anything one doesn't know about anything arcane the other will know. Basically Ginger is his bff.

Close but also the big brother he never had is Trevor. He thinks of Loke the same but more so Trevor. At one point after he was in his grandfather's custody and was recovering physically and mentally he went silent. Didn't want to talk at all to anyone, not even Jelani. It wasn't out of anger he just couldn't bring himself to talk. Trevor had experience with this because his little brother was mute. Also tbh Trevor really felt for 'im. Jelani told Trev and Lo how he'd found him and then later the three of them found out what had happened to him during all those years. During that time he wasn't talking Trevor managed to communicate with him and after he gained enough confidence to speak he was usually seen talking to Trevor a lot. He absolutely loves Trevor and will fuck you up if you even breathe wrong in his direction.

And of course there's his husband who he considers his best friend and safest person to be around in the world. J's pretty much been his first everything. Well, except for boyfriend that was someone else. He was in love with him but kept it a secret and took every chance he could to be with or near him until muuuuuuuuuuuuuuch later he accidentally revealed it. The rest is history.

Lol Trevor might be friend shaped.

17. Who is the person they hate most in the world?

Loke: Man who killed his grandpa and the man who killed his fiancé.

Jelani: Man who killed his grandpa. I'd say he hates that man more than even his peers from his "previous" life that betrayed him.

Angelus: His abusers for obvious reasons but at the same time he doesn't hate them. He hates everything he had to endure but at the same time he was conditioned to believe he deserved it and even in modern times he still kinda thinks the same way so in a way he feels like any hatred he feels towards them isn't justifiable. These mixed feelings also extend towards his grandmother and one of his uncles. Both were the worst of the bunch with his grandmother allowing all the torture and knowing about the raping done by his own uncle but not caring. Then her emotionally and mentally abusing him.

To say he got some sense of relief after he got some payback on his uncle is an understatement.

He kinda hates his father as well. If it hadn't been for his dad selling him to his grandmother to leave his dad and mom alone none of the abuse and attempted murder woulda taken place.

25. How do they handle being complimented?

Loke: He likes to follow up a compliment with another. If you compliment him he'll cheerily compliment you back.

Jelani: For someone who's always confident and sure of himself on the surface every time he gets complimented by someone he gets easily flustered and he immediately smiles and does this thing where he kinda bites one of the corners of his lower lip.

Angelus: Setting aside all the obvious things like being shy and insecure he kinda doesn't know how to react to compliments. His default is to lower his eyes and says a simple thanks but then he worries if he sounds like he wasn't enthusiastic enough or if he says more than thanks he worries it sounds disingenuous. Even in his better more confident days he'll still give a simple thanks but his tone will be louder and may add more to it.

32. If they could change one thing, what would it be?

Loke: Kind of a tie between not having asthma or hemophilia. Both are his biggest worries.

Jelani: Oh boy there is a ton he would change. But the one thing that he would change if he could would be to be a berserker like the rest of his family. Yes, even after finding out what he is. Hell, especially after what he is and how he was back then. He wants nothing to do with that part not with everything that went on, with those who betrayed him and those he hurt.

"He's a Maker. Why doesn't he just do it?"

Can't. Deities are deities whether they like it or not. They can live as anything else and mimic that species as best they can but they'll always be deities. The most they do is forfeit their duties and exile themselves or literally just walk away from it all and come back when they so choose. Those are his only two choices.

Angelus: What doesn't he wanna change? But for the sake of sticking to just one it would definitely be to have no mental illnesses whatsoever. He haaaaaaaaaaates the fact that he was the victim of years of every abuse you can think of and he's left scarred, knee deep in therapies and medications meanwhile his abusers are living good normal lives as if they didn't fuck up a child just because he's a Crossed Breed and not an Outsider.

36. Do they believe in destiny?

Loke: Tbh he kinda doesn't really care much about destiny or has even thought much about it. He just takes things as they come.

Jelani: No. Glossing over the irony of this answer he just doesn't believe destiny somehow controls your outcome. It's you who controls that.

Angelus: He's not a believer in it but he doesn't deny it either.

46. Are they a fast learner?

Loke: I think he's more average in terms of learning things he isn't too interested in or knows much about. He is definitely more practice than theory oriented tho.

Jelani: Yes. A very fast learner. Theory or practice it doesn't matter. He catches on fast and learns fast.

Angelus: Also kinda average but he needs both theory and practice and examples help a lot.

#reply #theonedayking #Oracle Corp #oc things #Loke tag #Jelani tag #Angelus tag

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emma-nation · 5 years ago

Text

Within You - Bloodbound AU - Chapter 13

Summary: One year after defeating Gaius, the gang has finally found peace… Until a tragic incident awakens the ultimate and most dangerous threat they ever faced.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Lysimachus

Demetrius' blood was the most lethal weapon in the vampire world. No one could survive its power, not even the First Vampire herself. When his body hit the floor, Lysimachus could barely feel it. In truth, he could barely feel anything anymore. Within seconds, darkness was consuming his mind and soul completely.

The last thing he was able to see was Rheya escaping through the dark sections of the museum. Screaming and shouting suggested Kamilah still tried to go after her, only to be stopped by Amy.

"I-It'll be okay," he felt a warm hand holding his face. "Everything will be okay... I promise."

That was Katherine's voice. So calm and soothing, but also frightened and mournful. If only Lysimachus could touch her one last time or tell her how he truly felt. He tried to reach her hand but his arms wouldn't follow his commands.

"Katherine, I..." he coughed, black blood gurgling inside his mouth. "I..."

"Brother!" Kamilah cut his sentence as she joined them on the floor. Lysimachus felt a few tears dropping on his forehead. "Please... you can't leave me again..."

"Sister, kill me. Please, don't let me die as a monster."

"Hunter..." even Priya Lacroix seemed to be deeply affected by his imminent fate. And Lysimachus could swear that was impossible for the fashion designer. "Stop this bullshit. You saved me, we'll find a manner to save you too. Won't we, mortal?"

"I'm holding on to that."

The poisonous blood had already taken most of the veins of Lysimachus' body and his skin had acquired a grey coloration. He forced one last smile before feeling his conscience and his heart were being completely swept away, turning him into a Feral. He couldn't explain what happened next, but a sudden explosion on his chest made the pendant of his new necklace shatter in a million pieces. The blue light it contained involved all his body, starting some kind of healing process.

"W-What..." Lysimachus' pain started to ease and he didn't feel so cold anymore. He was even regaining some of his conscience back. "What's happening?"

"Get some rest, sweetheart," Katherine kissed his forehead and stroke his hair. "I'll tell you later."

For the next long hours, he had a restoring sleep. In fact, Lysimachus couldn't remember sleeping that well in ages. In his dreams, he was back to his home in Egypt, where he and Kamilah were having their usual spats over a feast. But differently from reality, his mom and dad were also there. They were together at the table. Happy and celebrating, as a family. More people appeared there too, Katherine, Amy, some of their friends and a few children running across the room.

"Time to wake up, lazy," Katherine's voice called him, in an attempt to wake him up.

"Five more minutes..." he complained. "Please."

"Five more minutes? You've been sleeping for over twenty-four hours!"

Against his will, Lysimachus forced himself to open his eyes and sit down. He glanced down at his stomach, to the spot where Rheya had stabbed him. The injury was mostly healed, but how he survived was still a mystery.

"This is what I went shopping for. I went to the Fae Realm," Katherine broke the silence. "The necklace contained Lady Thalissa's magic. Her power was able to overcome the darkness inside your body and bring you back to life."

"Katherine..." Lysimachus searched for her hand, enlacing his fingers with hers. Tears started rolling down her cheeks. It was the first time he actually saw her crying.

"This is why I gave it to you in first place, because I knew you'd do something stupid. For a moment, I feared it wouldn't work. I thought I'd lose you forever."

"I had to save you, I couldn't let Rheya do what she was planning. God, I don't even know what that would've Turned you into."

Katherine rested her head against his chest, holding him tightly. Lysimachus kissed her forehead and they shared a very long moment in absolute silence, only enjoying each other's company.

"I'm starving," he finally spoke. "I feel completely worn out."

"That's right," Katherine brushed some hair from her shoulder, exposing her neck. "Lacroix said I should give you some of my blood, that it'd help to speed your recovery."

"She did?!"

Katherine nodded in response. Lysimachus chuckled at the information, then he carefully traced her jugular, applying a soft and delicate bite. He tried to do it as painless as possible, drinking only enough to regain some energy.

"Are you okay?" He healed the puncture wounds on Katherine's neck. "Do you feel any different after consuming Rheya's blood?"

"I'm fine. Being human it doesn't affect me, unless she had killed and Turned me."

"Thank god, I was so worried."

Lysimachus pressed his lips on Katherine's. She deepened the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue and then she finished by nibbling on his lower lip.

"Oh, I forgot. Kamilah asked to update you about the last events as soon as you woke up."

"What happened?" He asked, concerned. "Is it bad?"

"I don't think so," Katherine shrugged. "But some big changes are coming to your world."

Indeed, big changes were coming. As Lysimachus looked himself in the mirror after a shower, he could see something had changed. There was a new power, a new force inside him.

----------

Amy

"Okay..." Priya paced anxiously around the room, together with Lester. They both glaring at Adrian. "Hunter's gonna make it, the Nighthunters managed to carry him out through the side entrance, but the cops are coming inside at any moment. How the hell are we going to explain this?"

"You mean Adrian betraying us and forgetting to mention the First Vampire was around, ready to kick our asses?" Lester angered.

"I'm sorry, but you two didn't witness how powerful and manipulative that woman can be."

"Adrian, babe... in case you've forgotten she hijacked my brain!"

"This is no time for accusations," Kamilah interrupted their discussion. "We need a cover up story immediately."

"Like the doors automatically closed after the bomb warning," Jax suggested, "and we got trapped inside?"

"And how did Lysimachus got stabbed? His blood is still all over the floor."

Amy watched the scene in silence. Her psychic powers were keeping the doors closed until they settled an arrangement. The Council Of New York could never find a way to solve their conflicts in a pacific manner, whoever was sitting on its six chairs. There was never an agreement. There was never peace. They were always on the edge of a war against each other, against their own species. She walked to where Lysimachus wounded body previously was, the bloodied dagger was still there, lying on the floor. The Nighthunters didn't dare to touch it, not without properly protection. It affected them harder than the others. Amy kneeled down and held it in her own hands, something in what was left of that black poisonous blood attracted, called for her...

"No fear, child," she heard a voice deeply inside her mind it, "embrace it."

The tip of her finger touched that toxic blood, but surprisingly it didn't cause her any harm or pain.

"Amy!" She heard Kamilah screaming distantly, as her mind was being pulled into a void.

A man, wearing a white tunic waited for her in a mindscape, with a soft smile on his face.

"Granddaughter, we finally meet."

"A-Are you..." she opened her mouth to ask, choking on her own words. "Demetrius."

"I've been waiting for you for centuries."

"Why am I here?"

Demetrius approached and touched her shoulders slightly. Different from Rheya, he didn't gave her chills. His touch was warm and made her feel secure.

"Amy, I have seen your journey. I have seen your path ahead," he spoke. "It's your mission to undo the original sin that birthed so much pain and darkness and bring a new era to the world."

"An era of peace?" Amy asked. That was always Rheya's main purpose, to unite vampires and mortals. A purpose that got lost in the middle of so much power and sorrow.

"It will be your choice to make. A choice that will change the world forever."

"W-why me?"

"You're the first Bloodkeeper in history to be Turned. The fusion of the two lines. Rheya's vampire blood in her human descendant. The sap of the tree in the blessed chalice. At last."

The prophecies, they finally made sense. Amy could finally see it, it was Demetrius all along, trying to guide her into her journey through those dreams and visions. She tried to speak again, but she started being attracted back to the real world. She could hear Kamilah calling her name.

"I am honored to have met you, Granddaughter."

Those were the last words Amy heard from Demetrius before everything vanished and she was back to the museum, in a shock state.

"Amy," Kamilah shook her body, "talk to me. Oh my god, you weren't supposed to touch this blood! It's..."

"It's okay," she was finally able to speak again. Somehow she knew exactly what she was supposed to do next. "He won't hurt me."

Her wife was kinda puzzled by this last part, and even more by what she was about to ask.

"Let me handle it? The situation with the police and the reporters?"

"What? Adrian will call some of his contacts, they will help us to come up with a cover up story."

"Kamilah," Amy held her hand tightly, with the same confidence Demetrius had when he touched her. "Not anymore. I will make it right, I promise."

She couldn't say no, they were out of options. Kamilah exchanged a glance with Adrian, who approached too, confused about what was going on.

"Adrian, I didn't come to your company for nothing. There was always a reason behind it. You believed in me that day, can you believe me now?"

"Yes," he encouraged her. "I can. Go ahead."

Amy opened the doors and the police rushed inside with heavy armory, inspecting everything and checking out each one of them. After concluding the entire group was clear, they forced them outside to search the museum for the rumored bomb. The press immediately started to take pictures and ask questions.

"Do it," Kamilah stood by her side. "It's time."

"I'll speak," Amy announced, loud and firm. The reporters surrounded her, asking a million questions all at once. "I'm Amy. Amy Sayeed. You all know me as Kamilah Sayeed's wife. But now you're about to know the truth. The truth about me, about all of us."

"Kamilah," Priya snarled, "what the fuck is this girl doing? Make her shut up or she'll cause us a lot of trouble."

"Lacroix, chill out."

"When I came to New York, I was just a normal girl trying to find a job, trying to figure myself out. When Adrian hired me, I discovered something. A new world. A world hidden in the shadows, causing years of pain and conflict."

"What is she talking about?" The reporters murmured to each other. "What does it have to do with the bomb?"

"For years, thousands of years, there have been two worlds. The world of day and the world of night. Your world... and ours. But it's time we ended that division. It's time we stopped living in secret. It's time this endless cycle of blood and pain comes to an end."

Amy revealed herself to the hundreds of cameras in front of her, exposing her red eyes and fangs and encouraging the others to do the same. Everyone started to follow her lead, even Priya and Lester.

"That's right. We're vampires. But we're not going to live in the shadows any more. It's time we come into the open. Time we put old conflicts behind us. It's time for a new era to begin. An era of peace and reunification."

----------

Kamilah

4 weeks later

Only one word could describe the last few weeks, Hell. The whole world wanted to know about the secret vampire society in New York. Kamilah didn't have a single minute of peace and privacy anymore. Especially being the oldest vampire in America, the one that walked the Earth for over 2000 years, witnessing all the changes, fighting wars and leading revolutions. Journalists and paparazzi followed her all the time.

Adrian became their main spokesman, giving hundreds of interviews and exposing details about their history. But no one had became so popular as Amy, especially among the youngest mortals. She was now some sort of role model, being photographed and worshipped everywhere she went. Her face was present on the magazine covers and on TV, her followers on social media also started to increase on a daily basis.

Amy could easily handle that celebrity life, but not Kamilah. Using that new revelation and Rheya's actions as excuse, she decided to take a break from Ahmanet Financial and stay away from the spotlights for a while. At least, locked inside her penthouse she was safe and sound from questions like...

"Kamilah, you were Cleopatra's cousin," a first reporter shoved a microphone right into her face as she left the car, "can you tell us more about her?"

She ignored him, following the way inside the building. She lost the count of the unknown information she had already revealed about her cousin and the disagreements they had in a distant past. A female reporter continued to follow her.

"Kamilah... what's the secret of your hair? There are hundreds of YouTube videos trying to achieve this level of smoothness!"

"I call it good genes."

A third reporter emerged out of nowhere, before she entered the elevator.

"Kamilah, the question everyone has been asking... you're older than Jesus Christ. Have you met the Lord... in person?"

She simply rolled her eyes, and pressed the button. Once she was back home, she could finally breathe.

"Rough day?" Amy asked from her laptop, while drinking a cup coffee with Beruthiel on her lap.

"A woman can't even buy supplies for her future garden without being harassed with unwanted questions and pictures!" Kamilah complained, making her wife muffle a laugh. "I like this new era... in parts. Some parts I truly hate."

"Guess what? They're making a movie about us and out of all people they invited Lily as screenwriter. I refuse to be part of any projects that traitor is involved!"

Since Rheya's sick game, Amy had ended her relationship with her best friend. She didn't want to see, or even hear, Lily's name.

"Amy... come on. It's a silly thing, you should forgive her. Rheya did that on purpose to cause conflict between you."

"Kamilah," Amy stood up from the chair, "you have no idea of the things I watched inside her mind, okay? How could she hit on you? Or have those disgusting fantasies? She was my best friend!"

"I see," Kamilah approached her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I still think you should talk to her, get to know how she truly feels. Rheya can be extremely manipulative and you know it, better than anyone."

Amy sighed in response, still not fond of the idea.

After the night at the museum, Rheya had disappeared completely. Adrian was still alarmed, contacting vampires from every part of the world but no one had seen any signs of the First Vampire's presence anywhere.

"I have a surprise," Amy announced, showing Kamilah her laptop screen. "I'm organizing an event. A huge event. It's a concert to bring together humans and vampires. There will be musicians from both species. There will be a food buffet, as well as a synthetic blood bar. The best of both worlds, in one place, during a whole night. I spoke to Adrian and he totally approves it. He thinks it's a good manner to end any misinformation we're bloody killers."

"This is a great idea," Kamilah read the flyer and embraced her wife from behind, pressing a kiss on her neck. "You're getting popular, famous, quite influent and powerful... I love it."

"I wouldn't do this without you, Kamilah. When we first met, I was just a girl, scared and insecure. You made me a woman. You always believed in me. You made me better."

"No, you made me better. How can I be so lucky to have you, huh?"

They shared a long and passionate kiss. Kamilah looked at the flyer again. A strange sensation erupted inside her chest. She was afraid, concerned about something, yet she didn't know what.

"Amy, you didn't detect Rheya's presence around anymore," she asked, "did you?"

"No," Amy told. "I was just speaking to Adrian, he still found no traces of her. I also used my powers to try to locate her but... she vanished."

Kamilah hoped she was right. But that feeling something dark was lingering in the air wouldn't go away.

----------

Lysimachus

2 weeks later

A lot changed in everyone's life in over a month. Though Lysimachus wasn't present when Amy made the revelation to the whole world, he wasn't free from the fame and spotlight. Clothing lines wanted hire him as their model. Girls screamed his name wherever he went to. Things only intensified when Adrian announced him as one of the candidates to lead Raines Corporation, after he gave up on his position to run for Senator and dedicate himself to the campaign.

Those weren't the only changes in his life. Being stabbed with that deadly dagger had consequences too. Every magic had a price and he was paying it for staying alive. A part of Demetrius remained inside him, granting him some new powers and abilities to be explored. So far, Lysimachus discovered he could enter Ferals' minds and control them.

That wasn't the worst part, Death became a part of him too. He'd often experience visions and dreams with those who already left this world. Amy's help and some training put that under control, but when the deceased person still had ties, unfinished business with the living, he'd see them around all the time.

"So..." Lysimachus deflected a blow of Katherine's sai as they trained together, "it has been six weeks."

"Since you got stabbed?" She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to find an opening in his defenses.

"That too. It has been six weeks you're staying in New York. In my apartment to be more specific."

"Well, maybe I'm not bored yet. But if you want me to go..."

Katherine was finally able to disarm him, pointing the sai to his chest. Lysimachus threw his hands in the air, indicating surrender.

"This is not what I meant. Isn't it easier to admit we're..." he lowered his voice, whispering the next word, "dating."

"Are we?" Katherine smirked. "I mean, now you've got tons of women at your feet. You're rich, famous, successful. Why would you want to settle down?"

"Because I want you. It's you that I love, Katherine. Why is it so hard for you to accept it? We have this thing going on for over a year now and we never talk about it."

She silenced, not giving him any response. In that moment, Lysimachus was sure he had ruined everything between them.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he apologized, walking away to the shower. "Forget what I said."

"No, wait," she called him back. "I... I feel the same. l Iove you too, but it's complicated."

"Because of what? The deceased woman who's constantly following you around? Who was she? A girlfriend, fiancée maybe?"

"I knew it'd be a matter of time until you discovered it with these new powers. I was planning to tell you at the right moment. She was my best friend, like a sister to me. And my whole world."

They sat down and she told him the entire story. Katherine and her best friend, Ava, were born only a month apart. They grew up together, having a really close friendship. Until the night Ava got murdered in the middle of the night by a creature, while they were camping at the desert. Katherine never stopped blaming herself, turning into a lonely and closed woman, who was unable to feel much of anything or create attachments with another person. When she finished, she was sobbing.

"Amy has been helping me... she showed me how it'd have been if I had died instead, but it wasn't enough," she wiped off her wet cheeks. "Then she keeps shaping that monster and I kill it inside my head, over and over again but... it doesn't go away. It'll never go away."

"Katherine, she's not moving on because you're not moving on. It's not the monster you have to kill, it's these bad feelings inside you," Lysimachus placed a hand over her chest. "You gotta let her go."

"What's keeping her around? Can't she forgive me?"

"No, actually she wants you to forgive yourself. She wants you to live, to fully live again. To smile, sing, have friends and a family. That's what she wants."

She leaned her head to the side, resting it on his shoulder.

"I'm trying," Katherine said. "I'm really trying. Would you help me?"

"Of course," Lysimachus kissed her forehead. "If you let me."

"Are you really giving up on all those women... for this one?"

"You mean the most amazing and beautiful woman I've ever met and also the one who saved my life? I totally am."

----------

Amy

The day of the concert had finally arrived. Amy went to the location very early in the morning to make sure everything was going according to the plans. She monitored everything, to the artists' arrival to the organization of the buffet. Without the financial support of Adrian, Kamilah and Priya, as well as their influence, that event would never be possible. The money raised from the tickets sale would be going to multiple charity organizations.

However, an early encounter with Lily was almost enough to ruin her mood for the rest of the day.

"Hey," she heard her ex-best friend voice behind her, while she inspected the synthetic blood bar received from Japan, "can we talk for a minute? I mean, this is a thing we should be doing together."

"No, it's not. It was my idea. Alone," Amy didn't even bother to turn around to face Lily. "I have no time right now, Lily. I'm sorry."

"Amy... will you ever be able to forgive me?"

"Someday, in a century maybe. If by then you've already stopped having a fetish on my wife. You were supposed to be my best friend and you betrayed me!"

"Amy, it's over already. It was only a stupid crush, but I realized it wasn't even real. It isn't worth losing your friendship for that. I'd do anything to fix it."

"You'll have to try harder," Amy stared at her with a cold gaze and followed her way. After all, she had other priorities at the moment. "Bye, Lily."

People started to arrive, crowding the huge concert venue. From the backstage, Amy watched proudly as vampires and humans started to interact and wait for the performances. Many journalists waited to enter her private room to interview her. She received them, one by one, answering some short questions. By the time it was over, she went to a VIP box with a privileged view of the concert, reserved exclusively to herself and her friends. Everyone clapped as she came inside.

"Come on, guys," her cheeks were on fire. "I wouldn't have done it without you. All of you."

She forced a smile when her eyes stopped at Lily. Kamilah had saved her a seat by her side in one of the comfortable couches. Amy grabbed a drink at the bar before sitting down.

Her wife had a mischievous smile on her face, while her brown eyes aimed at her twin brother, who was standing nearby with an arm around Katherine's shoulders.

"Hey, Amy. Remember what I always say? That I've been many things in my life, but it took finding you to make me a wife?"

"Yes," Amy nodded. "I can't get tired of hearing you say that."

"One thing I had already accepted I'd never be was a sister in law. But it's finally happening, after almost 2066 years of existence."

"Oh! So we're official now?" She glanced at the new couple. Katherine hid her face in embarrassment. "It was about time!"

"Our first event as a couple," Lysimachus confirmed. "The pictures are already everywhere. It's too late to have second thoughts. Right, Katherine?"

"Who's having second thoughts?" The Nighthunter punched him playfully.

"It calls for a toast!" Lily attempted to join their conversation.

Everyone silenced, looking at each other awkwardly, expecting someone to answer.

"Why don't we go down to the floor for a while?" Amy suggested, being uncomfortable to be around her former best friend. "The two of you, me and Kamilah?"

"Sure," Katherine agreed. "Let's get going. I can't even remember the last time I attended a concert."

Before leaving, there was one last thing that came to Amy's mind. She approached Adrian and asked:

"Where's Priya, by the way? Last thing we need is a scandal."

"Oh," Adrian pointed to the stage area, laughing. "Too late for that. Last time I checked she was already causing one, she got caught making out with one of the musicians."

----------

Kamilah

When Kamilah thought about having everything she wished for, that new life was exactly what she had in mind. Together with Amy, she planned to a small garden at the rooftop of her penthouse, as it felt rather empty. That would be a good start to gain experience, before doing something big in their house in Hamptons.

The first thing to do was to install a modern, complex and eco-friendly irrigation system. Amy watched in silence as she studied the blueprints.

"So when are they coming to install it?" Her wife wanted to know.

"They?" Kamilah raised an eyebrow.

"The workers."

"I'm installing it myself. Do you think you can help me?"

When it came to handwork, Amy was not the most talented person. She was too clumsy for all of that. An early experience, when Kamilah started to set out the first plants in the soil, was enough for them both to know she'd be better stay away from the garden.

"I'm a disaster," Amy lamented, wet and cover with mud from head to toes. "I hope I didn't kill all your new plants."

"Me too," Kamilah joked. When the girls eyes filled with tears, she realized she had taken it seriously. "Amy, no. I was joking!"

"I know I am, Kamilah. Look at you, you're so naturally talented at everything and I couldn't even press some buttons without fighting the sprinklers and rolling on the mud."

"Hey, I may be a good gardener, but you have your specialties too."

"Do I?" Amy raised an eyebrow. "Because I feel I suck at everything, most of the time."

"Okay," Kamilah involved her in her arms, without minding how dirty she would get too. "Let me see... you're good in the kitchen."

"Yeah, but I spend more time cleaning the mess than cooking the dinner itself."

She was thoughtful for a moment, thinking of more items to that list.

"You're a great vampire and fighter. In centuries I hadn't seen someone to adapt the vampire life so easily and learn so many skills in only a few months."

"I only had those advantages for being she-who-shall-not-be-named's granddaughter," Amy huffed. They both had agreed to not mention Rheya's name, or Gaius' name, anymore. "Otherwise I'd be like... my ex-best friend."

"You're angry at Lily now," Kamilah spoke. "But you're an amazing friend, listener, advisor and now, a good leader."

"Leader?"

"Amy, not every 24 years old girls will organize such a big event as you did. And that day at the museum... you handled the situation with... she-who-shall-not-be-named so well."

"I almost got your brother killed. If it wasn't for Katherine..."

"If it wasn't for you, she'd probably had killed me in that game. I saw when you moved the bottle. Also, if you hadn't stopped Serafine, all of us and those mortals would be dead too."

Amy stopped crying, but she didn't seem fully convinced of her talents yet.

"You're the best Marketing Director, everyone in the company says that. But most of all, you're the most perfect wife. I learn so much from you everyday."

"Oh my god, you're gonna make me cry again."

Kamilah cupped Amy's face, bringing her lips to hers. Amy placed her hands on her waist, bringing her closer to her body. Kamilah's mouth descended, placing kisses all over the girl's jawline and neck.

"Kamilah," Amy broke into a laugh when they parted, "now you're dirty too! We both need a shower urgently."

"There's another thing you're great at, you know?" Kamilah looked at her and raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Oh really?! Well, but we can't take long. I need to be at the concert venue in a hour."

"In this case, we can save it for a celebration, after the concert."

Now she could finally see the accomplishment in her wife's eyes too. Being in the middle of the crowd, at the event she organized. They first stopped at the synthetic blood bar. Kamilah had heard about it previously, but she never intended to visit Japan to try it. She had some... problematic businesses in that place. In fact, she was surprised by that courtesy of The Five.

"Not like real blood," she concluded, "but it can satiate me for a while."

"I think it tastes great," Lysimachus added. "For someone who's spend most of life without drinking human blood, that should do."

They clicked their glasses before finishing them. Kamilah could tell how happy and accomplished her brother was too, even after going through such a traumatic experience at the museum.

"So, will you accept the position at Raines Corporation?" She asked, hopeful to hear a positive answer. Having Lysimachus back to New York was everything she wanted.

"I don't know yet," he sighed. "I miss my life in New Orleans but... after almost dying, I feel I should spend some time with my family too. I think I'll accept it, but not permanently."

Lysimachus stopped for a moment, pensive before adding:

"It's up to Katherine too. If she agree to stay, I'll stay."

"Oh! This is actually more serious than I thought..." Kamilah smirked, nudging her twin playfully.

"Kamilah..." Lysimachus cheeks went red. She broke into a laugh. "Can you not?!"

"I didn't want to say it in front of everyone, but congratulations, brother. Katherine is a good woman. I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thanks, sister. We still have a long way to go, but I like how we're progressing so far."

They turned around, observing as Amy playfully pulled Katherine to take pictures with her. From when Kamilah met her brother's girlfriend for the first time, she could already noticed the difference Amy's presence had caused in her life too.

"Look at that," Kamilah smiled at the sight. "She's such a natural in bring the best in a person's life. Isn't she?"

"Definitely. Katherine has changed a lot since she and Amy started hanging out. I remember how she also made me better when I first came to New York, we became friends even when I was trying to use her to get information on The Council."

"I think we can finally consider ourselves lucky."

The next song was announced and as the first notes started playing, Amy pulled Kamilah by the hand to the middle of the crowd.

"Sorry, guys," she said. "I'm gonna need my better half for this one."

Kamilah wrapped her arms around her waist, as she slowly moved to the rhythm. She recognized the song. It was one of Amy's favorites.

"This was one of our songs when we started dating," she had her eyes closed, enjoying the music. "It seems like yesterday."

"I could never forget," Kamilah whispered in her ear. "To many years to come?"

"No, to an eternity."

She turned around, kissing Kamilah for some long minutes, while the music played in the background. Time seemed to have stopped in that moment. It was the moment Kamilah realized everything was really going to be okay. They were finally in peace. And ready for what came next.

When the performance ended, they had a short interval before the next one started. Not long after they rejoined the rest of the group at the VIP box, somebody knocked the door.

"I thought we were done with interviews?" Amy furrowed her brows confused.

As soon as she opened the door, a cold breeze filled the room. It send shivers down Kamilah's spine, making every bone and every muscle freeze in place. She glanced at the others and could tell they were experiencing the same sensation.

"Congratulations, Bloodkeeper," Rheya entered the room with the same arrogant posture as always. "I had to come and see your accomplishments with my own eyes. In only six weeks, you managed to do what I never could, unite vampires and humans."

#bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #within you

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years ago

Text

Temple of Tree Bark/The Adulation of Tongues

Chapters: 46/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), It’s Just (Ah) A Little Crush (Crush), Longing For A Longhouse, Shiny Shrines Summary: You come to a conclusion and share some light conversation, as a mysterious illness spreads.

You dozed lightly under the golden sparkles of the healing machines, while Loki sat by your side, going through his daily paperwork. You still couldn't help but wonder if this really would fix your face or not. These machines had not been built with humans in mind, so this was technically experimental medicine.

You'd been given back your snacks, deemed poison-free, and shared them with Loki. He was not particularly taken with your favorite cheese crackers, but he proved fond of chocolate covered peanuts.

He spoke to you about his paperwork, the complaints and requests of the people, his voice a soothing backdrop to your rest.

It wasn't just his voice. You had come to the conclusion that you were developing a hunger for his presence. What you weren't sure about yet was if it was because he made you feel safe-being strong, and magical, and powerful in many ways-or if it was something else.

If it was the former, that did make a kind of sense. Your relation to Loki was complicated. He was the cause of many of your worries, many of the dangers you now faced, but he also hadn't really done it on purpose, and most of the things he did for you were to ameliorate your troubles. He really seemed to care.

If it was the latter, if you were actually falling for the handsome prince, like in some fairy tale...Well, you didn't know what you were going to do. Was that even allowed? You weren't even the same species.

But the king had famously pursued Dr. Foster. So perhaps it was. Or perhaps that was one of the many changes to the law Thor had made, or at least proposed to make. Saga had had much to say about it.

But Dr. Foster was an astrophysicist with a PhD and everything. You were not. Everything special about you had been given to you, rather than earned. Forced on you, one could say. Loki had swooped in and done so much for you, and he clearly intended to do more. You couldn't expect him to love you on top of all that. No, it surely wasn't possible between you, and you found yourself hoping it was just the former.

You'd already had your heart broken, and worse. The reminder of that dark time in your life was camping outside the city, with a bunch of protesters who hated Loki, and everything they thought he stood for.

This was no time for romance. This was no time to even want romance. This was a time for you to be learning magic, and law, and self defense. Romance had to be secondary, tertiary, even quaternary to all that.

You shouldn't think about it. The more you thought about it, the more likely it was to become what you were telling yourself you couldn't want. After all, wouldn't it justify what that murderer was trying to do? Wouldn't it make you a traitor to the human race, the 'devil's whore' as he had called you?

No! Of course not! That guy was just a murderous racist, nothing he said really mattered. Besides, you couldn't betray humanity by caring about someone. Loki was no devil, and he wouldn't pay you to sleep with him, so you were no whore.

Oh no, shouldn't have thought about sleeping with Loki. Shouldn't have thought about it...

But you already knew the strength of his arms and the gentleness of his hands. The intensity of his gaze and the weight of his body on yours. The smell of his hair, the texture of his skin, the bubbling tingle of his magic inside you. You even knew what most of his body looked like by now, when you had seen him bare and dripping with bathwater.

The golden healing light always made you feel warm, but the heat crawling up your face had nothing to do with it this time.

Okay fine, maybe you had a little crush. You knew how to deal with living around what you couldn't have, and you were an adult. You could handle rejection.

You could also imagine what his voice would sound like, how his face would contort in the throes of passion...

“Are you all right, my dear?” Loki asked, concern lacing his voice. “You are squirming a bit. Is is uncomfortable?”

“No, I'm fine!” You shouldn't be thinking about things like that. He was sitting right there!

“Do tell me if there is anything wrong. If it becomes uncomfortable, I can turn the machine down, or give you another massage, if you'd like.”

Foul tempter. Maybe he was a devil after all.

A commotion approached, multiple voices spouting fast-paced Asgardian. Loki frowned, lines on his brow.

“It sounds like a construction worker has been injured. I'll go check.”

He left for a few moments, returning wearing a perplexed expression.

“It appears that he is not injured, but has come down with some illness from which he will not wake. His brother found him like this, and is going to be kept here as well.”

You sat up under the golden sparkles. “Now that's something I never thought of! Even between groups of humans, first contact always brought terrible diseases! Can Asgardians even get sick?”

“Asgardians fall ill, yes.” Loki confirmed. “Aesir do not.”

“Maybe that's why Thor didn't unleash a plague the first time he came here. But I've been surrounded by Asgardians for months, and I haven't gotten sick, or gotten anybody else sick. I'm sorta connected to an Aesir though, that might be why. Or maybe our diseases are just so different from each others, that they are just now starting to mutate into something that can infect one another. Loki, we've really got to look into germ science! We could be sitting on an epidemic!”

“Darling, I know!” He grasped your hand tightly, stroking the back of it to soothe you. “We have thought of this, and we have already begun. Humankind is very aware of the dangers of pathology that an alien species presents. We have submitted to your doctors, samples of every disease known to affect us...no matter how much some argued they could be used to make weapons against us.”

“Or vaccines!” You pointed out.

“Your optimism is a balm, my dear.” He said. “That was the initial purpose, of course. The Earth will be safe from our pathogens with your crude, but effective vaccines, and we shall be safe from your illnesses with the use of our own medicine.”

The commotion started all over again.

“Another one?” Loki wondered.

“Maybe we should go.” You said. “What if they need this room? My face can wait.”

*****

Blueprints and road plans, that was his life now. He'd been a mason before, and fairly idle: Asgard rarely needed new buildings, and rarely needed repairs done; it had been so solidly built in the first place. He's made most of his living in the colonies before...before.

Now he lived, crammed with the rest of the population into tiny apartments that he had helped build; temporary shelters for the severely reduced realm of Asgard, while the survivors of Ragnarok all pitched in to build homes, businesses, and roads. He was lucky. He'd had training in building things, and had been given authority over an entire crew of workers. Unfortunately, nearly none of them had been builders. They'd been butchers, metalworkers, artists, scribes. But they did their best, and the nation was growing up from the ground, sturdily if not quickly.

The door opened, and the figure of his wife hustled in.

“Hildegarde, sweet one, I did not expect you back so soon.” He smiled at her, still so blessed by her presence. They had come through so much together. “Let me get you something to drink.”

“Please, that would be lovely.” She said. “I left a little early today. As much was done as could be, for now.”

He dutifully fetched a pitcher of Midgardian ale-weak, but flavorful-for her. Hildegarde worked hard breaking ground and mixing cement, work only for those with strong backs and arms. He was so lucky.

She took a good, long drink, no doubt weary from a hard days work.

“Oh, I haven't the patience.” She declared, holding her arms open. “Come to me darling. I have a well-deserved reward for you!”

He chuckled, wrapping her up in a hug and bringing his lips to hers. Her kiss was more electrifying than he remembered, bringing a rush of pleasure and contentment. It went on and on, until her strong arms were holding him up, his legs no longer able to support him.

Still, he felt no fear, even as he weakened further, only pleasure, and the deep heartfelt love he had for his wife, even as he struggled to draw breath. She would not let him.

Not until his eyes had glazed over, and the last dregs of his life ebbed, did she drop him on the floor and leave, tail swishing behind her.

*****

You were much better able to walk the next day, though it was still easy to become dizzy and overbalanced, so Loki took you to the healing wing early, to absorb some healing light. There was wailing the wing however, as one of the men had died in the night, and the others-five in total-remained asleep. The newest had been brought in just before you had arrived, by his distraught wife, who claimed she'd been working deep into the evening and had simply fallen asleep at her construction site, only to come home in the morning to find him collapsed on the floor.

“This is spreading far too quickly.” Loki murmured to you. “We should come back later.”

Instead he took you back to the tiny library in his rooms, gave you paper to draw on, and began pulling old books from his shelves.

“Some of these are from my father's collection.” He said, flipping one open. “Here is a human temple once dedicated to him.”

He showed you an illustration of a large wooden building, ornate and clearly ancient.

“Alas, not a trace of it exists anymore. Wood is impermanent, and subject to a great many methods of destruction. Still, I hear it was nice while it lasted, for such a primitive construction.”

“Hey, I think it looks really nice.” You said. “So we're behind on our Nornbein technology or whatever. We still build some pretty cool things. Ever see the pyramids?”

“Of course I have. Not when they were new, no. They were old, even as I was young. I'm only a thousand or so, that's all.”

“Oh...that's all.”

“What? Brunnhilde is three, and Heimdall is nearly five. He might have seen them when they were new.”

“Okay, but they are pretty impressive, yeah? And they weren't built by aliens either!”

“Of course not! It would have taken much less time to build them, their decorations would have been more securely fastened in place, and, most importantly, aliens would not have built such things and then simply abandoned them.”

“Did you ever get a temple?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He crossed his arms sourly. “In my youth, a transition was taking place on your Midgard. In the lands where I and my people were known, a new religion and new power structure were taking over, and they replaced us. But Odin was pulling away from Midgard anyway, and so we disappeared from your world. Fewer and fewer of us came for our training modules, and we were gradually forgotten.”

“You sure aren't forgotten anymore! Maybe they'll build a temple for you now.”

“Hmph. More like a gallows.”

“Loki!”

“Yes, yes, alright. Perhaps I will eventually be accepted. But I doubt there will be even the tiniest shrines to me anytime soon.”

You shrugged. “I could make one. A shrine to the great god of...wait, what are you the god of?” He wasn't the god of evil, like that book had claimed, but no one had ever told you what, exactly, his Aesir associations were.

“How cute. What would it look like? Your little shrine to your god?” He asked, skirting the question entirely, leaning his chin on his hands, elbows on the table.

“Er, w-well...” Your god? You didn't worship him! You didn't really worship anybody right now. With everything that had happened over the past few years, you had some things to figure out, regarding spirituality.

“Well, I've never built anything before, so it wouldn't be very big, or very fancy. I think what I would do-” You began sketching. “Is to get a bunch of rocks or bricks, and make a circle. Then put layers and layers on top until it's kinda like a well? Then I'd put a plate inside, and make offerings of cinnamon pastries.”

“How utterly charming. I might just decree that you must do exactly that.”

“Try it and I might just leave plain cinnamon sticks instead.” You threatened.

“It comes in sticks? I could just have a bite of pure cinnamon?”

You laughed. “You don't want that! It's literally just tree bark!”

“Truly? You just peel bark from a tree and put it in your food? Humans really will eat anything.”

“Anything that doesn't instantly kill us, and a few things that will only kill us slowly. Though you'd be surprised how much of what we eat is just beans or grass. The coffee? Beans. The corn? Grass. The chocolate covered peanuts? Beans and beans. Bread? Grass.

But then there are the fun things: The herbs and spices. Well, herbs are just leaves, it's spices that get really fun. Spices are basically anything that isn't leaves. Cinnamon is bark. Ginger is a root. Saffron is the stamen of a flower, and cloves are just dried up flower buds. There's also lots and lots of seeds, and some berries, and even hot peppers, which are just dried fruits.”

“You really aren't helping your case, you voracious little thing.” Loki teased.

“Oh yeah? Well, you're making Asgardian food sound super boring.” You shot back. “Are you seriously telling me that you guys conquered whole worlds, and didn't try the food?”

“Oh no, we absolutely did.” He took a piece of your paper and began sketching. “But it was the Vanir and the Alfar that had the most culinary influence on us. The Vanir prefer delicate, subtle flavors, and the Alfar are very...natural eaters. As you might expect from the ecology of their worlds, they do not employ much fire, therefore, much of their food is uncooked.

We took these influences and added our own flair. We like a good sauce, or a nice, thick gravy, but we simply don't celebrate the riot of flavor that humans so prize. I suppose that will change in time, as humankind exerts their own influence upon us. Or perhaps it will be the other way around, and we will convince humans to cease over-spicing everything.”

“Never gonna happen. Humans have fought actual wars over spices.”

“Well, perhaps we can convince humans not to go to war over every little thing as well.”

You sighed. “That's...also probably never gonna happen.”

“Shame.” He said. “Sounds like you could use a strong, fair, firm ruler. If only you'd had the opportunity to acquire one of those...”

“Oh, cut it out. You've already told me why that wouldn't have been a good idea in the end.”

“I have said no such thing. Just that the Earth would have been in danger either way, and I would have whipped you all into shape, and led you to glorious power. Of course, I could just be talking about you in particular, rather than humanity as a whole. You, who now live with royalty within arm's reach. Would you like a strong, fair ruler?”

His pointed stare, his little smirk, the way he leaned in, chin in hands, had your pulse pumping so hard that it hurt your tender head.

Was he flirting with you? No way.

The instant you turned away and grasped your head, he dropped all of his teasing and scooted close, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring concern. It was really too bad that being in his arms like this just made your head hurt more; it made it impossible for you to enjoy the moment.

“Maybe we should go back to the healing wing? Things should have calmed down by now.”

He brought his paperwork with him, and even saw a few petitioners out in the waiting room, allowing you to doze contentedly under the healing sparkles. Only when he was certain you were deeply asleep, did he leave to find his brother.

*****

“So, when's little brother gonna propose?” Brunnhilde teased, as Thor wove a patterned sash from yarn. He'd taken up the habit to help with some of his issues after Ragnarok, the act of creation helping to mitigate the terrible memories of destruction. He occasionally sold his creations on human Etsy, under an alias. Very few people knew about it, and none of them were Avengers. Each of them was receiving a scarf for this winter's holidays.

“You jest,” He said, turning the dainty cards with careful delicacy, another skill he'd had to learn. “But you have not yet seen my brother in the throes of love. When Loki desires something, he begins planning immediately. He becomes consumed by that desire. It's actually a very common Jotun trait.”

“Yeah, they do get like that. You know, if you'd told me a thousand years ago that there would be a frost giant in the royal family, I'd have called you a liar and a blasphemer. And yet, here we are.” Brunnhilde shrugged. “He's a decent kid though, even if he has a few bad habits.”

“It's not as if I'm really that different.” Thor pointed out. “But my point is, I'm surprised that he hasn't been ordering her flowers, or draping her with jewels, or-”

“Thor!” Loki called, stalking into his rooms. “I need some good, Midgardian love poetry. Have you any recommendations?”

“There we go.” Thor said. Brunnhilde snickered. “And what is wrong with our poetry?” He asked.

“Nothing, in theory. It's just that I do not think it will translate well, and it's also full of concepts that _____ won't relate to. She's never been on a battlefield, under the stars. She's never experienced the whirl of combat, nor found any attestation to life therein. She's never had to fix the memory of a loved one in her mind while staring down a faceless horde in the moments before a war began, or heard the song of her lover in the clashing of swords or the whir of arrows. I don't think any of our metaphors will really reach her.”

“Have you asked her if she even likes poetry?” Brunnhilde asked.

“Everyone likes poetry.” Loki said. “Don't they?”

The Valkyrie shrugged. “Maybe. Why don't you ask her what kind she likes? It's not as if humans are strangers to battle; perhaps war poetry is popular here too.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You know, I think she's had enough surprises over the past few months. She might actually like a little stability now. You might just consider including her in your plans regarding her every now and then, I bet she'd appreciate it.”

“Well...perhaps...Thor, your opinion?”

“I'd like to preface this by reminding you that, while I am the only person you know who has had a relationship with a human, that relationship ultimately failed. Do not hang too much upon my advice alone.”

“Well then, who else might I ask?” Loki asked in frustration.

“Humans!” Thor and Brunnhilde exclaimed as one.

“Hmph!” Loki crossed his arms. “I come to you for advice for once, and you blow me off! Typical.”

“I am not blowing you off, Loki, just saying that our experiences may be very different. There is no one way to court a human. Their wooing requirements can be vastly different from one another, and if you do not meet her individual requirements, she might not even recognize what you are trying to do.

Jane, for instance, has no interest in poetry, and did not want that from me. She found beauty and fulfillment in the vastness of the universe. Discover what she finds beauty in, and work with that.”

“That is...actually good advice.” Loki said. “What happened you you?”

Thor sighed, deep and dramatic. “I fear I may have begun to grow up.”

“Norns forbid!” Loki cried, clutching his chest, and both brothers broke into amicable chuckling.

“Yes, yes. You're both adorable, and I love you.” Brunnhilde interrupted. “But I have some concerns regarding your Buridag plans. Are you seriously going to let a bunch of unsupervised humans in here? Because they will be unsupervised. Because we don't have enough bodies to throw at the security detail. I think I've brought this up before, but, while I do think it is a good idea in theory, I don't know how we're going to swing the logistics.”

“By recruiting humans to police themselves, naturally.” Loki said. “Behold. A plan I have for securing the loyalty of our worshipers. And also benefiting them at the same time. That's the important part, truly.”

He held out the sketches he had made while speaking to you earlier. Thor took and examined them.

“Are these...These are longhouses?” He asked, baffled.

“Ooh, those look cozy.” Brunnhilde commented.

“Trollerkaerhalla is going to become a permanent fixture of Asgardian life; our friendly neighbors, who love and venerate us, as we deserve. They have defended us, they have sheltered _____ without question, and they are possibly the first and only human allies that I, personally, have on this planet. I propose that, as we are constructing a building to house justice for Buridag, that we also build this simple housing for our allies. You have looked upon the camp; you know some of those tents will not protect against the upcoming winter. These houses will protect them, as they did in the days of humans past. Updated for the modern setting, of course.”

“You want to build homes for the humans.” Thor said, his voice full of disbelief.

“_____ spoke about an oddly human concept called 'reconstruction' in which humans of today try to connect with the ways of humans from the past, so I thought this design would be well-suited to the humans in the camp. It shouldn't be hard to build in modern amenities either: electric wiring, and plumbing, and geothermal heating should all be easily-”

The King of Asgard grabbed his brother by the shoulder and pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Oof!” Loki grunted at the sudden squeeze. “I take it this meets your approval then?”

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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yukiwrites · 6 years ago

Text

A Family Ritual

Thank you so much for your support, @breeachuu! Watch out ye who enters for the sin! ;D

Summary: Nidra felt accomplished with her new life -- being a mother of three and a wife of a wonderful husband couldn’t make her feel happier. Even more so now that she could share her manakete customs with her own blood and feel her husband’s love within her.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

Being a mother was everything that Nidra thought it would be and oh, so much more. Additionally, it had been her life-long dream to have a family of her own, so of course she would feel more than overjoyed to be able to care for and nurture the small bundle of happiness that was her baby boy.

Being Luci's godmother and taking care of her during the year Robin had been away gave much-needed experience to the manakete: although from different species entirely, Luci and Meli behaved mostly like any other baby; their particular quirks easy to figure out once one knew where to look.

And Nidra loved to simply stare all day long at her little baby; to just poke his chubby cheeks or caress his head as well as his tiny and soft pointy ears. They were so cute! The epitome of cuteness!

During one of these musings, Nidra was hit with a sudden revelation: since Meliodas was of mixed blood, it meant that his Naga Bell bath had to be given to him much earlier than if he were pureblooded. And although the Naga Bells were rumored to only bloom once in every two hundred years, Nidra knew better: it was a very special kind of flower, though not in the way the legends painted it to be.

Indeed, it was true that it was only found in high, craggy terrain away from human settlements and that it had a very irregular blooming schedule, but it was a flower that sensed whenever someone needed it -- and it would make itself seen in places one would least expect it if the need arose.

Nidra herself needed the blossom in more than one occasion, either as offerings to Naga or as the simple need of its magical properties, and she found it during some of her rough landings atop of mountains. She knew that it would show itself if it were time for Meli's Naga Bell bath, though of course it would only reveal itself it Nidra looked for it first.

Well, more specifically, if Nidra's blood looked for it.

Worried about leaving Meli out of her sight as well as concerned about the little one's health were she to take him out with her to look for the flower, Nidra asked of Meliodas and Cynthia to look for the flower instead.

"THE LEGENDARY NAGA'S BELL?! Mother!! You've given me the QUEST of my LIFE!" Cynthia beamed the moment Nidra gave her the so-called mission. "Me and my partner are gonna rummage through every nook and cranny from this valley, Mother! We'll find your flower!"

"It is not mine yet, technically, but I thank you for your enthusiasm, Cynthia." The mother chuckled, nudging on her daughter's pigtails, never getting enough of her fluffy hair.

"I myself only heard of this flower once or twice." Meliodas placed one hand over his chin in thought. "I do not recall you mentioning it back in the future, so I must have read it somewhere..." He twisted his lips, searching his memory.

"Ah, but it is an inherent thought to all manaketes, Son." Nidra said, looking from the pegasus knight to her brother, then back at her. "Surely the name feels familiar to you as well, Cynthia."

The young manakete blinked. "Oh, yeah, true! Now that I think about it, I did say ‘the’ legendary Naga's Bell."

Meliodas' hand fell from his chin. "Ohh."

"Indeed," Nidra only nodded. "It is an important part of a manakete's life, so we are born with this knowledge. Or should I say, with the instinct that will be transformed into knowledge once we apply our rational thought onto it."

"Like with the dragonstone..." Meliodas whispered more to himself than to his family. Not hearing her brother's musings, Cynthia turned to her mother, bright-eyed.

"So! Mother! We're born KNOWING stuff, that's amazing! But I'm gonna be even more amazing and fetch that flower for you before my brother does!" She hopped excitedly, dramatically looking back at her brother to watch his reaction to her letter of challenge.

"Oh, little sister, you are ON." He puffed his chest, narrowing his eyes to her. Cynthia beamed, hopping on her feet.

"C'mon! Let's go already!" She giggled happily, running towards her brother so as to yank his hand.

"W-wait! Mother, do you have a description of the flower-"

Her eyes fond from watching her children interact, Nidra simply lifted her hand in a gracious wave. "You'll know it is the right one once you find it; all manaketes do. But of course I'll tell you two: it resembles a ballerina with both of her arms upwards," she mimicked the gesture so perfectly one would think she had been a dancer in her previous life, "and the large petals make up her skirt."

Cynthia and Meliodas both had their mouths open in surprise. "Wow! A ballerina flower!" The younger manakete said, trying to imagine how pretty a field filled with such beauties would be. Her brother nodded beside her, his braid waving behind his back.

"Indeed. I am certain you two will find it before the sun sets, but do set out quickly just so you'll have more sunlight to aid you, hm?"

"Sure!" Cynthia puffed her chest, jumping on her mother for a good-bye hug before running out of the door. Meliodas followed suit, though his hug was much less rough than his sister's.

"Of course. We will be back soon, Mother."

"Be careful, just in case, alright? Look after your sister, as well... She still prefers to fly on her pegasus, so..."

"No need to worry, Mother. I'll keep one eye on her and another on the flower!" He winked, placing a kiss on Nidra's forehead before leaving. One could hear the sound of his transformation followed by his flight right after.

Still smiling, Nidra walked to her and Henry's room, finding her husband sitting in front of Meli's crib. "They just left," she said in a soft voice so as not to wake the baby.

Henry leaned both arms on the crib, resting his face on one of them just so he could be more comfortable in staring at his baby son. "Mhm. You sure you don't want me to go, too? Six eyes are better than four, after all." He said with a small smile, never tiring of looking at Meli.

Nidra placed both hands over Henry's shoulders, leaning her body weight on him. "Yes, I am. I would rather you stayed with me and Meli, just the three of us." She hummed as Henry placed one hand over hers, caressing his thumb on her skin.

After a moment of silence, Henry snorted. "Well, it is summer right now, right? We got a pretty narrow window to conceive Cynthia, so why not get to work- ouch! Nyaha, you always bonk my head like this when I mention it!" He massaged the bonked area while Nidra took a step away from him, red in the face.

"Ahem, c-conceiving Cynthia was not the reason I sent them away, Henry. Preposterous!" She ruffled her husband's hair with both hands, stealing a few good-natured laughter out of him, "well, not the main one..." she whispered.

"I HEARD THAT!! WHOO!" He jumped out of his seat straight to his wife's arms, laughing at how mortified she looked.

"Henry!" She hissed, glancing at the sleeping baby by the crib. "Do not be so rowdy! A-and do erase that perverted smile from your face; we are not-"

"Noooo?" He tilted his head to the side, looking at her from her chest where he dug his face into.

Nidra puffed her cheeks, making them appear even redder than before. "No!" She said firmly, but then whispered right after: "it's still light out..."

"ONCE IT GETS DARK, GOT IT!" He laughed loudly, immediately slapping his own mouth so as not to wake Meli up. He received a stinky look from Nidra, but her suppressed smirk betrayed her silent reprehension, making both of them dissolve into a silent laughter.

Nidra's days couldn't have been more perfect than simply spending time with her family like that.

True to Nidra's instructions, Meliodas and Cynthia returned a ways before sunset, bearing a single Naga's Bell flower.

"Oh, wow! You're back early! We haven't even had lunch yet." Henry opened his arms to welcome his children's collective hug, laughing at Cynthia's enthusiasm.

"I was the one who plucked it from the canyon, Father!" She blurted out, random twigs sticking out of her hair, her clothes full of dust and all sorts of leaves.

"A dangerous endeavor, but I am glad it turned out okay!" Meliodas pulled Cynthia's cheek, making her giggle.

"What do you mean? My partner was flying right beside me while I climbed down the edge 'cause her wings were too big for her to fly sideways while I reached for it, but it was still perfectly safe! She would've caught me if I fell."

"So would I, but that is beside the poiinnnt," he stretched her cheeks more, making her whine.

"Owowow, but it all worked out, Brother! Isn't that right, Mother? Here's the flower!"

Nidra pulled Cynthia's opposite cheek, stretching it as well. "You reckless child. I am glad you are unharmed, but think of your safety first and foremost."

"Owowow, my face's gonna get all f-flabby!" Her hands full of carefully holding the flower, Cynthia only squeezed her eyes while her mother and brother pulled her cheeks.

"Hahh, I am glad you are alright, however." Nidra sighed, enveloping both arms around her little girl. "Thank you for bringing the flower as I asked, but do be careful next time, for my sake."

"Allright..." Cynthia dug her face into her mother's chest, the mischievous smile still by her lips. "How are you gonna prepare Meli's bath? I wanna watch it!" She hopped out of Nidra's arms, eagerly handing her the flower. "Oh, but wait! I promised I'd visit Owain's new house today... I completely forgot! B-but I wanna watch Meli's bath..."

Meliodas placed one closed hand over one open palm, as though remembering something. "Oh! I also have a previous engagement..."

"Lucina and Morgan called on you for a get-together haven't they?" Nidra carefully placed the flower inside a large bowl, her family following her steps to the kitchen at the back.

"Yes..." Meliodas nodded. "And I have been meaning to take their braids for our jewel. Tonight's a full moon as well, so it's a perfect timing." He absent-mindedly watched as Nidra plucked the petals with utmost care, placing them over a hand towel beside the sink.

The older manakete bobbed her head to the sides, humming. "Meli's bath will only be ready after the moon comes out, as well, so I'm afraid our schedules will not match.

Cynthia looked from her mother to her brother as though watching a ball game. "Whaat? But I wanna watch the jewel-making ritual, too! I'm not gonna spend the night at Owain's but I could go to the castle later, too..."

"Nyaha, I'm sure the kids at the castle will be happy to have two dragon playmates around! Oh, and the babies, too!" Henry joined in after sneakingly making tea for everyone and putting it on the table. "Ni-Ni said the both of us have to bathe Meli at the same time and send a prayer to Naga, so I guess all of us have stuff to 'do' tonight, huh?" He wriggled his eyebrows to his teacup, knowing his wife would get the drift.

Without even looking over her back, Nidra kicked the chair right behind her -- where Henry sat -- while still minding the flower with her hands. "Indeed." She coughed, then raised her chin to the food by the oven. "Let us at least share this afternoon meal before we go our separate ways, hm?"

"Oh yes, please! I'm starving!" Cynthia raised her hand after finishing her tea, hopping out of her seat to help Meliodas put the table.

"YOU should be the one taking a bath later, sister. You can't show yourself to Owain's wife looking like that."

"Hey! I just to brush the leaves out and I'll be good as new! But I guess it would be good to take a bath just in case..."

Nidra and Henry laughed at their children's interchange, watching as they put the table with fondness.

After sharing the meal and the stories that came with the children's hunt for the flower, the family slowly separated: Meliodas was the first one to leave to castle Ylisse to spend the night there, followed by a now-clean Cynthia, who also brushed her pegasus before setting out for the city, and from there to the castle to witness Meliodas' ritual.

After cleaning the table, Henry noticed that Nidra had made two separate bowls for the Naga's Bell. "Are we gonna give him two baths?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

Nidra loudly cleared her throat, pretending to be busy heating the water. "The smaller bowl is for tea. A single petal will suffice, so the rest will go for Meli's bath."

"Huh." The dark mage raised one eyebrow. "And we're drinking this tea? Or are you gonna offer it to Naga?" He took a step to be beside her, which made her avert her face away from him so he wouldn't see her blushing mien.

"N-no, I'll be the one drinking it."

"You, alone?" He circled her to look at her face, but she looked away once again. His smirk grew.

"Yes, I alone." This time, she turned her back to him, though her face was so red even the tip of her pointy ears were blushing.

Henry wriggled his fingers, slowly sliding them on his wife's waist. Nidra let out a surprised 'eek', but didn't move from her spot.

"Whaaat is ittt forrr?" He placed his chin over her shoulder, "wow, your cheek is super hot! It has to do with boinking, doesn't it? It doessss, righttt?" he teased, pulling her closer to him.

"Oh, for Naga's sake, it does! But stop saying this word, I beg you!" She cried out, hiding her face with both hands. "I shall drink it and send a prayer to Naga asking for fertility! H-happy now?!"

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," he teased, breathing by her neck, his hands tightly holding her waist. "We could just keep trying and trying and trying, though, no prayers needed! That's fun part, too, nyaha!"

Nidra's shoulders sagged in defeat, her face still hidden under her hands. "I'm not saying we aren't trying."

"Aha!"

"I-it's just a guarantee, alright? Since the flower is here and all..."

"Uh-huhhh," he kissed her nude neck, enjoying how she flinched with the touch of his lips. "You better take the pot away from the fire now, though, or there won't be any water left." He noted without even stopping his kisses, making Nidra gasp loudly.

"Oh no!" She jumped, quickly reaching for the kettle and moving it away from the fire. "You distract me so much, Henry."

"Nyehe," he squeezed her in his hug, digging his face into her neck, his breath tickling her skin. "You're not complaining, though!"

"Never." She smiled softly, the shade of red still ever present over her cheeks, her eyes watching the smoke coming out of the boiling water.

Later that evening, the full moon made itself seen, signaling the perfect moment for Meli's bath. Fortunately the nights weren't too cold during summer, so Nidra and Henry could bring the baby-sized bathtub outside so as to enjoy the most the moonlight had to offer.

The Naga's Bell water turned into a silver shade of green the moment the light shone onto it, glittering as though there were manakete scales inside of it. Henry blinked with the sight, letting out an amused 'oohh' once Nidra carefully placed Meli inside.

Sleepy, the baby yawned widely, enjoying the lukewarm water around his body. Nidra felt her eyes burn with emotion by simply sharing that wonderful moment with her husband: the both of them held Meli behind his neck, carefully splashing water all over him with their free hands.

The more they mixed the water around the baby, the more it turned into a silvery rainbow, much like Meliodas' wings in his dragon form. "See how the flower resonates with his inner dragon?" Nidra whispered softly, the warm wind lifting strands of hair as Meli cooed in their arms.

"This is all so magical, and I've been a mage all my life." Henry commented, a fatherly smile splattered across his lips. "Thanks for sharing this with me, Ni-Ni. For choosing me, for loving me... for giving me this family I can call mine." He said solemnly though casually, without even stopping rubbing the water on Meli.

Nidra choked a sob, scooting closer to her husband so she could rest her head on his. "I'm the one who should be thanking you, but instead, I will say this: I love you."

"Mhm," Henry leaned his head on hers as well. "I love you too, Nidra."

The manakete closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to Naga -- asking for the protection of her little baby as well as of her beloved husband beside her. Of course, she thanked the heavens for such a great amount of happiness, a single tear itching down her face as she did so.

"Meli's gonna start getting cold soon, let's bring him back." Henry noticed a change in the clouds above, reaching for the towel he hanged over his free shoulder.

"Indeed, let's." Nidra dried her tears with her wet hand, drenching her face even more. But she didn't care. The smile almost hurt on her lips as she watched Henry carefully wrap their baby around the towel, her heart bursting with love.

By the time they finished putting Meli's pajamas, he was already deep asleep, his skin glowing in the moonlight much like Nidra's did on occasion. The manakete held her husband as they watched their son sleep for a while, their hearts beating as one.

She could feel Henry sliding his hand up and down her back, caressing her ever so softly in a way she knew he had never done to anyone else before. She closed her eyes to hug him closer, pressing her ear into his chest.

The sound of his heartbeat filled her head, making her close her eyes to enjoy it -- to commit it to memory. "I love you so, so much." She whispered, feeling his hug tighten around her.

"Hey, I love you too." His voice sounded hoarse, almost inviting her to look up at him. Which she did. The moment their eyes met, their lips drifted closer, wanting to taste one another.

They shared a small kiss under the moonlight, enjoying how it grew deeper, their tongues intertwining, never wanting to part. Their bodies moved in unison, as did their breathing -- Nidra turned her head to the side to give Henry's tongue more space inside her mouth as his hands traveled through her back so as to free her from her cape.

Nidra leaned her entire body on Henry's, not noticing how their feet stumbled to get to the bed up until they stumbled and fell on it. Laughing, she rolled to the mattress to take off her top, watching how Henry did the same with his shirt before once again taking him into her arms and lips.

He lied her down on the bed, trailing both hands downwards so as to free her from her shorts as she held his face with both hands, closing her eyes due to the depth of their kiss. She strangled a moan once she was free of her last piece of clothing, promptly opening her legs so her husband could place himself in the middle.

"You're so pretty, Ni-Ni," he whispered as he trailed his kisses from her lips to her jaw, then collarbone and finally breasts. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, the droplets of sweat all around her body glittering in a green and silver light as though she were a work of art.

Her chest had always been so soft and Henry's general favorite spot to play with -- if Nidra's desire didn't rush him, he would play with her breasts and nipples for hours. He loved how he could mold them with squeezes and how she would yelp of pleasure whenever he nipped at them, so he made sure to do it often.

He licked her aureole, then nipped at the tip, enjoying how she trembled under his tongue and teeth. Nidra dug one hand by his scalp, pulling it slightly. "H-Henry..." she could barely speak under the lustful atmosphere, her body going up and down seductively.

The mage snorted by her chest, making a funny noise. "See, I told you this was the fun part!" He chuckled as she puffed her cheeks.

"This isn't the time or place for that!" She growled, immediately deflating. "D-don't keep me waiting..." She huffed, her breathing rasped. Watching her chest moving, once again Henry took it upon himself to lick and suck it, making Nidra wrap both legs around his waist, wanting to rub them against each other -- wanting him to rub himself inside of her.

Giggling, Henry once again trailed his mouth to her collarbone, neck, jaw and finally lips -- the voracity with which she welcomed the kiss made him roll his eyes in pleasure as he reached down for his own pants to free his erection.

The moment it popped out, his glans rubbed on Nidra's vaginal opening, making her let out a long, lustful sigh. "Henry... don't keep me waitingg..." She bemoaned, almost whining.

The mage smirked, prodding his erection by her vulva, feeling her promptly suck it in. "You shouldn't just hit me whenever I mention this if you want it this much, y'know?" He licked her cheek as he penetrated her all at once, enjoying how she struggled to keep her moan as silent as possible so as not to wake up the baby.

"You-ahh... You are too explicit! Keep t-these, hmm, these talks to the bedroom i-instead..." She tried to speak under his thrusts, letting adorable moans out amidst her phrase.

"Dirty talking? Woo!" He teased, pulling it all out then putting it in, enjoying how even her limbs went limp from pleasure. She giggled in response, pulling him for yet another kiss, never tiring of feeling him inside of her.

By then, Nidra had completely forgotten about the tea she had taken earlier that afternoon, or even about the prayer she had sent to Naga -- at that moment, she and Henry were simply being enveloped into one another's love, enjoying the pleasure they could give each other.

No words could describe how right having Henry inside of her felt -- how his teasing and playing around even during the act made her feel whole. It had taken her almost three millennia, but she had finally found the place where she belonged the most:

Inside Henry's arms, specifically while part of him was inside of her as well.

"I'm gonna say it first this time," he huffed, accelerating his movements. Inebriated by pleasure, Nidra's eyes were heavy and her mind, foggy.

"H-Hen-ahh-ry?" She squeezed her hug on his neck, her insides pulsating with the approaching orgasm.

"I love you, Ni-Ni. Forever... and ever," he said in a low voice, his thrusts getting deeper and stronger. Barely were the words out of his mouth, he could feel Nidra closing in around him, being washed over by the climax.

"Th-that's unfair, Henry," she huffed as he still thrusted, the orgasm close to him after it passed from her. "I love you as, ahh, well..."

She felt him liberate himself inside of her, their declaration of love a catalyst for their utmost pleasure.

"Heehee," the mage pressed his forehead on Nidra's, not wanting to pull it out of her, "we still have the whole summer to keep trying."

Tired from the climax, Nidra only laughed, stealing yet another kiss from her beloved. "Our whole lives you mean. Surely we do not plan on stopping after Cynthia is born."

"Oooooh, now you're talking!"

#henry #cynthia #fire emblem awakening #fatesona #fanfic commissions #my writings #yuki's commissions #a sin a day keeps the thirst at bay

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seunghyuns-enbyfriend · 6 years ago

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Blood, Sweat, and Tears; Chapter 1

A/N: This is a story full of violence and a dash of betrayal. There’s also torture and mutilation, so yeah. All of it is going below a read-more bar because it’s very, very dark.

Yoongi was suspicious when his brother and two of his biggest brutes- a tough old vampire who was known only as Dog and a slender young vampire called Weasel. “Oh, Yoongi. Poor, sweet, innocent Yoongi, with your little magic tricks. Tell me, hyung, why do you hang out with that traitor to my species?” The vampire clan leader’s voice was dripping with disdain and mockery, and the honorific was spat out like an insult. Yoongi began backing away slowly, though he knew it wouldn’t help. “I met him in high school. Neither of you are the same as you were then, but he still cares what I think and feel. He didn’t turn into a violent, bloodthirsty monster,” he growled before he turned and ran. It was no use, within seconds, Dog and Weasel were on him, fists slamming into him and claws digging into him.

Yoongi struggled fiercely but futilely against the two vicious vampires. “Remember not to kill him, that stupid bleeding-heart needs to see his dear little pet human in pain and to know who did it. But if you want to have a little drink, feel free. I have no brother now.” Yoongi hardly heard his brother’s words, but he felt fangs digging into his flesh. That pain stood out as Weasel sucked on the fang holes in his arm, and Yoongi screamed, lashing out with his other arm. Dog laughed and kicked the human harshly, and after moments more of agony, everything began to fade. Yoongi fought it as hard as he could, but he couldn’t fight it off as his vision blackened and everything around him disappeared.

It was dusk when Namjoon heard a knock at his door, and he decided to open it himself- his bodyguards all had tasks to do and they were near enough to help him fend off any attacker, and besides he wasn’t helpless. What he saw, he would never forget. His best friend was laying on his porch, bloody and bruised, clothes torn and eyes closed. Namjoon’s mind turned for a moment before he scooped up the injured human and brought him inside. His bodyguards all dropped their tasks to help get Yoongi into a car to drive him to the best doctor in town.

When Yoongi woke up, he ached all over, his arm stung, and the incessant beeping of his heart monitor facilitated a pounding headache. He groaned in pain and refused to open his eyes. The light through his eyelids was bright enough that he knew it would make his head hurt more. “Yoongi? Hyung, are you ok?” Namjoon’s voice was soft, familiar, but full of panic. “I’d be better without that damn beeping and if the room wasn’t so bright, and if my whole body didn’t ache,” Yoongi croaked, his throat dry and hoarse. Moments later, the light dimmed and the monitor was nearly silent.

A few moments later, Yoongi felt a presence hovering over his bed. He cracked his eyes open and saw his old friend, standing over him with a cup of water in hand. Namjoon gently put the cup to Yoongi’s lips before tipping it very slowly, making sure Yoongi could drink it rather than drowning in it. Yoongi drank eagerly and soon finished the entire cup. “So. Who needs to die?” Yoongi sighed softly. “You know who did it. He’s seen me as livestock ever since I chose to remain human, and my refusals to let him feed on me didn’t help,” he replied slowly, “He said he… He has no brother now. I suppose I have no brother, either.” Namjoon was clearly furious, every muscle tense, fangs and claws showing.

“Who the fuck bit you? Who dared to fucking drink from you? I want to rip them to pieces,” the vampire growled. Yoongi hesitated before he whispered, “Weasel. I don’t know if Dog did, too, I blacked out.” There was only one set of fang marks on Yoongi, so Namjoon assumed it had only been one person who had bitten Yoongi. Namjoon was shaking with rage, and it took all his self-control not to lean down and bite Yoongi’s neck, to drink from the human and mark him. “I’ll take care of him, hyung, I promise. He won’t bother you ever again, Yoongi, he won’t be drinking from any human ever again. I’ll make sure of that, I’ll make sure he’s not physically able to. And I’ll do it myself, my enforcers will grab him very gently so I can take care of him myself,” Namjoon snarled.

Yoongi didn’t respond. He felt betrayed- as much as he knew his brother put his clan before everything else, he thought at the very least his brother wouldn’t attack him. He had known Dog for a long time, and as vicious as Dog could be, Yoongi knew that the older vampire could also be kind and gentle. Namjoon turned and walked to the door, and Yoongi called out, “Hey, uh…” He trailed off, suddenly shy about what he wanted to ask. Namjoon turned back towards the bed. “Yes, Yoongi?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, like he was talking to a scared toddler or animal. “I uh… Do you think you could get me something to eat?” It was the best Yoongi could come up with on the spot, and he was hungry. He had wanted to ask Namjoon not to leave his side, but he couldn’t bring himself to say so.

“I’ll have someone bring us food, I just need to have a little chat with some of my clanmates about some things, I’ll be right outside the door,” Namjoon promised, “Lamb skewers sound good?” Yoongi nodded gratefully, happy that Namjoon wasn’t going anywhere. Outside the door, Yoongi could see Namjoon talking to someone, showing them a picture on his phone. After a few minutes, Namjoon walked back in and sat down beside Yoongi’s bed, reaching out to hold the human’s hand but not taking it, rather letting Yoongi take or ignore his hand. Yoongi gently laid his hand on top of Namjoon’s, and the vampire gently held Yoongi’s hand. “From now on, someone will always protect you when you’re out of my sight. And don’t argue, Yoongi-hyung, I know you’re tough but you were beaten up by vampires. Who knows if it’ll happen again. Even the weakest of us are stronger than the strongest humans, it’s simple biology,” Namjoon murmured.

“I know. I tried to fight back, but those bastards…” Yoongi trailed off, tears pricking his eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Namjoon murmured softly and squeezed Yoongi’s hand gently. “Remember when we first met? How we first met?” At Namjoon’s question, Yoongi glanced over at him. “Yeah… I was writing and that little brat wanted to read it, wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Yoongi replied and laughed softly. Namjoon chuckled and muttered, “I still can’t believe you had the balls to punch a werewolf in the face. Yoongi shrugged. “He was trying to take my notebook, and werewolf or not, that brat needed a good punch to the face. I still almost can’t believe I actually broke his nose.”

“You’re right about that. You never did tell me what you were writing. But of course you don’t have to, it’s your life,” Namjoon murmured softly and ran his thumb over the back of Yoongi’s hand. “It was a poem. About… Well… Family,” the human replied softly, his heart breaking all over again. He had never been very close to his brother, but he would never forget the day, a week after the younger boy had been turned, when his brother had protected him from a bully. He remembered seeing his brother’s eyes flash brilliant red and the bully cower in fear at that. He always thought that they would be like that- defending one another no matter what.

Namjoon watched the expression on Yoongi’s face and wanted even more to tear apart the vampires who hurt Yoongi as he saw the sorrow and pain fill the older man’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Namjoon whispered, beginning to wonder if he was responsible. After all, he had befriended the human knowing that Yoongi’s brother would never accept him as Yoongi’s friend. Yoongi looked over at Namjoon, reading his expression with the ease of an old friend, and he murmured, “It’s not your fault that all this happened. I chose to be your friend. I might not have chosen… Him… But I knew well what might happen and I haven’t cut off contact with you because I’m prepared to take the consequences of being your friend.”

Many hours later, once Yoongi had been discharged from the hospital, the pair went back to Namjoon’s house, with Namjoon insisting that Yoongi move in with him temporarily, while they figured out a safer course of action. By that time, Namjoon’s best enforcers- a slender yet well-muscled vampire with a shock of dark grey hair called Wolf and a big, brutish-looking vampire with uncharacteristically white hair called Bear- had captured both Dog and Weasel.

Namjoon led Yoongi down into a dark yet not miserable basement where the two were tied to chairs. “Normally we’d tie them with their hands on those armrests,” Namjoon explained casually, gesturing to two other chairs sitting to the side- comfortable-looking ones with padded cuffs on the armrests and front legs- then glanced back at the two sitting on plain metal chairs with chains wrapped around their ankles, torsos, and wrists. Both were squirming in pain, but remaining perfectly silent.

“For these two, we figured a bit less comfort was in order- everything’s laced with silver. We never do this kind of thing, Wolf had to special-order the chains and the chairs. Thank goodness we have a few good metalworkers in our ranks, I need to remember to send them thank-you gifts personally. I’m sure Wolf can help with that. Anyway, we had to get some tools made for this little… Occasion. It’s messy business, we prefer not to do it, really. Torture is useless for getting information, and it’s so uncivilized. But well… It’s not like these two are anything near civilized, so an exception was made,” Namjoon explained, his voice cold as ice as he gestured to an array of instruments made to harm vampires.

Dog shuddered, eyes wide, while Weasel stared at the instruments, clearly envious. “Don’t be so rough with Dog, ok? For all he’s loyal to the wrong master and he’s a brute with no sense of morality, he’s protected me sometimes, and he bought me ice cream out of his own pocket when I was sad. He has empathy as long as someone doesn’t cross his master, his name is very appropriate,” Yoongi said softly, and Dog turned his head to stare at the younger man. “I was just following orders, Yoongi, you gotta believe me. He’d have killed me if I hadn’t,” the broad-shouldered man said quietly, and Yoongi shrugged. “Namjoon is the one in charge here, and he’s protective. Was in a pack made up of a lot of shifters in high school, you know how those are. After all, you lived with them for a bit, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where your name comes from, Dog,” the little human spat, and Dog’s eyes went even wider.

“Just fuckin’ kill me, please, Namjoon, I-I stopped Weasel from doing more harm than necessary, a-as soon as the kid blacked out, I-I hauled Weasel off of ‘im, come on, man, don’t use those things on me! I-I-I don’t want to suffer,” Dog babbled as Namjoon’s long fingers danced over the weapons, never touching the blades but brushing each one’s handle. “Weasel, please tell me, is this true?” The vampire leader’s voice was still cold and unfeeling. Weasel remained silent. After a few moments, Namjoon sighed as though he was a parent and one of his children had just thrown a rock after being told not to. “That’s really unfortunate that you won’t speak, perhaps we can fix that. I wonder if your tongue is in the way, perhaps it was cut and healed wrong.”

Dog shivered again, and Yoongi sat down in one of the other chairs scattered throughout the room, watching the scene unfold. Namjoon selected an instrument that looked like a scalpel. “Now, this blade has a bit of silver in it, so I suppose in the time it takes for your tongue to grow back- probably 30 minutes or so, tongues are so good at healing, it’s quite amazing really, a shame the rest of us isn’t so resilient against silver, isn’t it- I suppose I’ll do a bit of work on your friend. Or perhaps I’ll take a toe or a finger off of you- you have 20 in total, what do you really need all of them for anyway. It’s not like either of you are leaving here, not after what you did to my Yoongi, and especially not you.” Namjoon pointed the scalpel at Weasel. “You may stay alive for a few days just so I can make absolutely certain you regret having tasted my friend, but under no circumstances are you leaving this room. Acid is quite useful, you know, especially since the body stops regenerating after death, even for vampires.”

With that, he pried open Weasel’s mouth and, with a single neat flick of the wrist, sliced off the vampire’s tongue right near the base. Weasel, to his credit, only made a small sound of pain. Namjoon made a face of disgust as the lump of flesh fell onto Weasel’s lap, and he sighed. “Again I say, messy business. I already got one suit ruined because of these two, it’s a good thing I changed into less expensive clothes before you woke up, Yoongi. I’d be far more upset about the suit if it was scum who bled all over it or got spit on it, let alone both. Now, Dog, as much as I’d like to go easy on you, I highly suspect it was you who bruised Yoongi’s ribs, and that? Doesn’t seem necessary. So I think a bit of payback is in order.”

With that, Namjoon dug the scalpel into the spot where he knew one of Dog’s ribs would be, digging deep enough to scrape the bone. Dog grunted in pain and began thrashing, making the scalpel cut a ragged gash across the area as Namjoon pulled it back slowly. “There, now, that’s fair, don’t you think?” Namjoon’s voice was still as cold as ice, and he looked at the blood dripping down Dog’s torso with disgust. “I suppose we’d have had to wash those anyway, I was hoping to only have to wash them a little but you’ll be sitting there at least for another 28 minutes or so, and it’s not like you can bleed out, now, is it? You be a good pup and stay silent, I’ve been awake all day so I’d appreciate the quiet as I have a small headache. Hmmm… Yoongi, the doctors said your blood count is stable, what do you think about giving an old friend a drink? Of course, you can say no, I’m not a monster.”

Yoongi nodded and tilted his head in invitation, allowing Namjoon and the two other vampires to see his veins and arteries just beneath the skin. Namjoon walked over and thanked him softly. “I’d go for the arm, but if you’re offering… The neck is far more intimate, but we’re good friends, aren’t we? Practically brothers or lovers, and I have had a taste before, so if you’re sure about it…” Namjoon trailed off as Yoongi nodded, and he leaned in to lick the spot he was about to bite. Unlike Weasel, who’d bitten without first preparing the area, Namjoon was gentle and cautious, making sure to lay down a good layer of his numbing saliva over the area he’d bite down on before he did so, lapping at the wound delicately as Yoongi let out a soft moan of pleasure. The small human had always enjoyed being fed on by Namjoon, as the younger man was always gentle enough that he got a buzz of ecstasy every time Namjoon fed on him.

Both of the other vampires stared hungrily at Yoongi and Namjoon, and soon, the vampire pulled away with one last, long lick. The wound was healing fast- a bit of vampire blood in the wound from Namjoon intentionally nicking his lip with one fang made the wound heal faster than normal, but Namjoon knew if he gave the human too much, it’d turn him, and neither of them wanted that, so it was only ever a drop or two to heal up a bite after a feeding, never more or for anything else. “And now, we wait for that tongue to grow back. Hopefully it’s a more cooperative one than last time.”

#BTS #fanfic #min yoongi #kim namjoon #blood #violence #torture #vampire #blood drinking #mutilation tw #ok yes this is very dark #and very long #long post

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neo---blue · 7 years ago

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What's in a Name?

"Attachment, Shion, that's what's in a name." / Let this song touch their souls, was Nezumi's plea. Let it carry Tsukiyo's soul to eternal peace, and let it fucking hit Shion like a knee to his gut.

h-hello. i wrote this a few nights ago and put it up on ao3 but i didnt want to cross-post to here until i was finally done messing with it (that is, editing and adding stuff because i never have my fics beta'd before i publish ;( huhu) this is the first fic i'm publishing in almost two years and a half omg

anyway! have a post-no.6 beyond fic!

in which i write about tsukiyo as if he were a main character (he is, in my heart), and about nezumi thinking of going back to no.6 just to friggin kick shion's ass.

(also, i haven't been around for no.6 for like... four years so i don't know if anyone's written about this, but here is my take on it, regardless) lmk what u think hahahue hehe thanks anyway!!

2.7k+ words on ao3 or Keep Reading!

Nezumi could feel it, deep in his bones, even from over a year away from No.6, when Tsukiyo drew his last breath.

It was in the way Cravat and Hamlet made a ruckus running up and down his arms then suddenly, suddenly quieted.

And it was in the way his heart ached. Nezumi had felt something like palpitations but quickly dismissed it; see, it wasn't unusual for his chest to seize up, or for his limbs to lock then limp. It's quite common, has been ever since he took off.

It happened every time he looked up, every time the wind carried his thoughts across the wide expanse of the sky all the way back to No.6, all the way back to Shio—

Tsukiyo.

So his time is up... Nezumi sighed. Tsukiyo had served him well, as a companion, a confidante, a comrade. Nezumi treasured him so, and accepted the pain it brought him to realize what's happened.

He took a deep, serene breath. As he held Cravat and Hamlet close, he cleared his throat roughly and resolved to dedicating a song to Tsukiyo, one that will bring his soul—

Wait.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

Nezumi almost doubled over; the realization came rushing in, hit him faster than he could comprehend it and all that it made him feel.

Tsukiyo wasn't supposed to live this short, was he?

Nezumi pressed a palm onto his forehead as he stumbled, making Hamlet and Cravat startle from their quiet to skitter onto the ground by his feet.

They craned their necks to look up, taking turns blinking at him, pressing their small front feet together, making gestures that confused Nezumi even further.

They aren't even three years old...

Nezumi was well aware, of the average lifespan of the generic rat species: if conditions were right, they'd live up to two years. His mice weren't of the generic species, however.

They were descent from the rats that resided in the Mao forest along with the Forest People, a breed that could live for nearly twice as long, on top of possessing intellect and wisdom.

The three mice had been around by the time No.6 started showing signs of crumbling, by the time Nezumi started plotting to fulfill a debt to someone who was still within those walls.

Many generations of these mice had come and gone, and if Nezumi tried hard enough he could quite successfully trace each of Hamlet's, Cravat's, and Tsukiyo's lineages, from those of them who survived following him and his foster grandmother out of Mao over a decade ago, to those left behind in the library vault when she was murdered and he was captured by No.6, and to those that greeted him right where he left them once he managed to escape...

The families grew smaller by the generation. They were not nearly as resilient as humans— perhaps just not as resilient as Nezumi. Living away from the abundance of the Mao forest to stay in the cesspool West Block was, was taking its toll, and the shift in the environment they chose was proving to be too difficult to adapt to, whether it were gradual or abrupt; there was no way they could cope for much longer. It was just natural selection.

Hamlet, Cravat, and Tsukiyo were the last of them, it seemed. And of the three of them, Tsukiyo was the youngest, hence he should have lived the longest... Right? In the least, he should have lived longer than this.

Nezumi staggered, trying to find some explanation, any explanation for how all of this could happen. But when he thought of ecology and the like, there was only one face, only one person he could think of asking, and he shot the idea down as quickly as it arose. At this point, there was nothing he could do, not about Tsukiyo.

He shuffled his thoughts, trained them back to the black mouse; No.6 as a city may have fallen, but it still had all in all better living conditions than the West Block; Tsukiyo would have had as much space as he wanted, as much exercise and rest, as much food—

Yes, that he lived within a bakery of all places was supposed to suffice and more. He would never starve, his health would never have to suffer, so why—

Another face came to mind, another one he tried to forget. But that he was relatively less concerned about memories with this person made remembering them less tiresome: It was Inukashi.

Something they used to say— it seemed so long ago— about their dogs and how they know their master through and through. Dogs are naturally inclined to feel for their masters without hesitation, without bias, without fear. They tied themselves to their master's motivations, inhibitions, and emotions, without fail. Compassion brought forth by understanding this gave Inukashi strength in facing each and every day in a place like West Block; taking care of their emotions was all in a day's work to keep their family alive.

Nezumi clicked his tongue, wanting to berate himself— don't stop to think of Inukashi.

Never stop to think of people in the past.

Besides, dogs and mice were entirely different however anyone cut it, weren't they? Especially these mice.

They lived for one another. They also lived in harmony with humans, served them earnestly not because they were, say, biologically subservient, but because they had heart. Though, as the mice dwindled in numbers, that had begun to change. Nezumi felt each generation growing more and more attached to him, and regardless of if he saw them as companions, they did begin to see him as their master.

Their master...

Hamlet and Cravat have been energetic, so to speak— they were as exhilarated as Nezumi was to be travelling. Well, Nezumi was also soul-searching, but Hamlet and Cravat need not occupy themselves with human sensibilities like these. Feeling different winds and tasting new fruits were enough for them to live their lives out with satisfaction, as well as relishing in their master's presence and in the faith they have in his vitality.

Vitality, huh?

If they were going to treat him as their master anyway, then Nezumi only had to become the best master to them that there could ever be. He wouldn't have to trust in other humans, and these companions would never betray him.

He hadn't subscribed to the idea of one serving two masters at once, either— that was until he'd shown up and started to have the trio at his every beck and call—

Nezumi gulped, sinking to his knees, almost shooing the mice away.

Don't stop to think about him—

Never—

Tsukiyo—

Tsukiyo's master— Nezumi had long since ceased to be Tsukiyo's master.

The two mice came up to him again, peering into his face, as if to ask if he were alright. Despite the grief which came with the strange connection with their brother that had allowed them to feel Tsukiyo's passing, they still worried more for Nezumi who was in front of them.

"Don't worry," Nezumi said, trying to reassure the little pair. Despite the grief he had also felt, he worried more for these two, too. "It's okay."

They cheeped, hopping into Nezumi's palm when he reached out to them.

"Hamlet, Cravat."

Their responses were warm, nuzzling into the leather covering his fingers, pleased noises as they were called by name—

By name...

By name.

Yes. He remembered now, when exactly it was that Tsukiyo had switched masters.

"This one is Tsukiyo. Like a moonlit night."

"Like I said, don't name them!"

"Ah, but Eve—" A change in pitch, some dramatic gesticulations. "What's in a name?"

That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.

Naive. He who had spoken those words, not caring for its context, not caring for the way he used it then, not caring for how pathetically monotone he sounded as he recited Shakespeare— was naive.

"…Shion…"

The name felt foreign on Nezumi's tongue, in a voice dry and hoarse as he choked it out— what's in a name?

"Shion," he repeated, "What's in a name?" If you didn't care about context then, I won't care how I use it now, I won't care how pathetic I sound—

He could feel his eyes stinging, tears trying to force their way out. He didn't have the power to hold them in.

"Tsukiyo..." he mumbled. The sobs came right after.

The tears fell. They rolled down his cheeks relentlessly, fell from his chin to the palm of his hand where Hamlet and Cravat sat, watching blankly as if the drops were waterfalls meant to coax them into meditation.

Nezumi mourned Tsukiyo.

Tsukiyo was a precious friend, one he hadn't doubted for a minute when he tasked him to watch his place while he went off to work, one he hadn't doubted for a second when they were fighting for their lives at the Correctional Facility, one he wouldn't doubt for the rest of his life when he left him to take care of, and be taken care of by, his new master.

Here I am, Nezumi coughed, miles and miles away from Tsukiyo and where he'd grown up, bawling like a child over the death of a loved one for the first time since after the fire— he wanted to feel anger at himself for letting this happen, but there was no one watching, and with no one watching he could permit himself to openly cry about losing one of his closest friends.

"Attachment, Shion," he answered, to the mice, to himself, "that's what's in a name."

And attachment on his part meant that he would have a name to moan when he grieved. A clear photo, clear memories, of he who owned the name, and consequently very vivid agony.

When he'd lost his family and what was his life to that ruthless fire, he had been too young to remember any of their faces or their names. Grief was a numb throbbing in a scar he couldn't entirely recall how he got, tears he couldn't entirely understand streaming down his grandmother's face, blood blooming on her back when she was shot through her chest. Attachment was reserved for revenge and nothing else if it wouldn't help him attain it.

Finding out that the monster that took everything away from him had a name, No.6, helped him move forward.

"Attachment is what's in a name, Shion—"

The name tasted bitter. Attachment to the person who owned this name gave Nezumi a clear image of someone blame, too, a name to curse if he couldn't the heavens— and this attachment to Tsukiyo was his fault, it was making Nezumi grieve louder than he had ever before.

Attachment on Tsukiyo's part, though... By now, Nezumi had understood. It meant that Tsukiyo was so thoroughly attached to his master, the one that gave him his name, that if his heart ever caved in, Tsukiyo would... expire.

Humans can survive heartbreaks, tens and hundreds of them. But mice, they live such short lives; they don't deserve to feel heartache, they're not designed to be able to handle it. They're not designed by nature to have names, to have masters, to have heartache.

Nezumi spat. What kind of heartache would it have to be? Why had Tsukiyo grown weak to this point? What did he have to endure hearing or seeing? Why couldn't he take any more?

The fuck's his master doing?

Nezumi imagined— he willed himself against it, but he imagined— Shion waiting night and night again for him by open windows, sacrificing sleep and the warmth of a bed to stand with his arms outstretched on a balcony in the cold of the night, breaking down, and eventually, finally...

Giving up? Had his heart broken so much that Tsukiyo couldn't bear it?

Don't fuck with me.

I've only been away for a year. Nezumi gritted his teeth. I've only been away for a year, you idiot—

You endured being separated from your mother, you endured the hell of the Correctional Facility, you endured losing Safu— why couldn't you endure waiting for me?!

How hard did waiting for me get that you just gave up? Why can’t you endure it—?

You didn't believe in me.

He mouthed it, in between uneven breaths, the realization dawning on him. "You didn't believe in me, Shion."

I'm out here, believing in you, with all my heart—

Nezumi punched into the soil, his chest clenching as hard as his fist.

What kind of half-assed attachment is that?! To have been attached to me this much, all this time, without even knowing my real name— and you choose now to give up on me?

Don't fuck with me. Don't fuck with me.

Times Nezumi wasn't acting under a ruse were incredibly rare, and when he'd kissed Shion, he meant it: it was a real promise. He knew their time apart would do the both of them some good— they were apart for years after meeting for one night and they were fine, they were fine, we were fine.

When they were twelve, Nezumi didn't have to promise Shion he’d be back to save his life like he saved his, in fact he'd left without a word— but Shion had soughed and sighed anyway and called his name and thought of him and believed in him and loved him—

Is it attachment that isn't enough?

Nezumi grunted in the back of his throat, rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of all of it. He could feel Shion was alive through the attachment he has to that airheaded asshole— it was an unwelcome attachment in the beginning but when push came to shove and he'd changed his life there was no going back, and it became an absolute attachment that connected every fiber of Nezumi's being to Shion— an attachment strong enough to last their time away from each other despite how hard he had to fight the urge to just go back before he could truly find himself after everything that's happened.

Shouldn't it be the same the other way around?

Nezumi wasn't sure how, when, where, or why, but he did it, he promised he would come back—Couldn't you feel it, Shion?!

Isn't it enough?

If... If Nezumi had told Shion his real name… Would he have never made up his mind to give up waiting for their promised reunion? Would his heart have never caved from not having him by his side to at least be there, to hold his hand as he bore on his shoulders the weight of the world he had to rebuild from the ground up?

Would that have made this attachment stronger? More resilient? More faithful?

For a heart to let go of a promise— it's one of the worst heartbreaks there is... But it's survivable. It's survivable, just not for a mouse. Shion will live through a heartbreak like this, operate on other motivations, maybe the bare minimum... but not Tsukiyo.

Nezumi swallowed hard, considering that he may as well be partly responsible for Tsukiyo's demise, for breaking his master’s heart. But it’s not out of guilt when he stood up, placed Hamlet and Cravat on his shoulder, and raised his arms. It was from the bottom of his heart when he sang. For Tsukiyo.

And for Shion.

Let this song touch their souls, was Nezumi's plea. Let it carry Tsukiyo's soul to eternal peace, and let it fucking hit Shion like a knee to his gut.

This separation wasn’t supposed to break Shion’s heart. Nezumi knew better than to tell Shion how to feel, but how dare he forget that I would never break a promise.

I didn't kiss you goodbye, Shion.

Nezumi was going to give him a piece of his goddamn mind.

He readjusted the superfibre cloth on his shoulders, making sure Cravat and Hamlet were comfortably situated among the folds. These two were nowhere near expiring, because they believed in Nezumi as their master.

Tsk. Tsukiyo was dear to him so he wanted to respect his death, but Nezumi couldn’t help it; now that he'd grieved and mourned him properly and sung him a song, the only thing left was to chide him, albeit lovingly: Tsukiyo, you should’ve just believed in me, too.

All Nezumi had to do now was turn around.

Nezumi breathed slowly, as he stepped in that direction, voicing another sentiment he felt deep in his bones. "This is why I said don't name them."

Thanks for reading!

#no.6 #no. 6 #nezumi #nezushi #tsukiyo #does he have is own tag on here or #wah huhu #pls be kind #leaving for uni in a bittt #i tOLD YALL IM ALIVE

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