#ie wanted to tear the flesh off my arms

[zhimi2]

I call this one "how leshy lost his eyes"

[nighthaterfrfr]

how does it feel when the lords in black take someone as a permanent vessel?

not simply reanimating a body like ethan was, but take someone's body while the person was still conscious? here's my take on it.

(tw kinda gorey)

-the lords in black rarely go out of the black and white. its their home and where they're most powerful, but in the case a willing(?) sacrifice were to give up their body, they gladly take it.

and they immediately get to work making the body become their own.

-pokotho wants his mask. the possessed suddenly feels their eyes roll back, screaming as they realize their face is getting ripped off. the flesh melts off the face, revealing the skull becoming his signature mask

-blinkotep wants to see all. the possessed feels their weaker eye hurting, suddenly bursting and dropping on the ground as the other eye tearing their face apart for space for the eye, completely removing every other feature on the face. what remains left of their face is the bloodshot eye with a purple iris.

-t'noy karaxis wants him to feel himself in the body. the possessed yells as the back of their head throbs, revealing two brand new bones protruding, as to mimic goat horns. the cartilage on the nose suddenly extends to mimic a goats and their jaw unhinges to better fit a goat's jaw.

-nibblenephim wants to feed. the possessed's jaw suddenly unhinges, the jaw breaking from the face as the mouth widens. they suddenly feed on their own facial features until the face is just a big, horrifying grin.

-wiggog y'wrath wants the rage of his vessel. he breaks all of the possessed's upper body limbs (ie hands, fingers, arms), the bone of three fingers suddenly protruding out. their face gets their skin almost torn off, revealing their green flesh underneath. unlike the others, it always feels like the skin is peeling, instead of the transformation leaving the face numb. always in a fit of rage because of it.

-choosing a person to choose as their permanent vessel is difficult, but they're only bound to it until the person's body dies. then, they can go back to being chaotic entities residing in the black and white.

[dreamkidddream]

MC Doing the Peeling Glue Skin Prank on the Bros (Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan)

Hoorayyy my first post! I don’t know if any of you have seen the tiktok where they rub glue to look like their skin is peeling off but it’s both funny and horrifying. Also, this got a lot longer and fluffier/sappier than what I thought, but I’m not complaining. This will be done in headcannon format, and I think I’m going to split it up into 2 parts (Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi in the first part and the rest in the second) and I hope you enjoy! Also slight spoiler for lesson 16 (but it’s a blink and you miss it kind of thing in Mammon’s). Reader is gender neutral.

The Build Up:

Ever since you came back to the Devildom after the exchange program, things have been great! It was obvious that you were missing the demon lords, and even more obvious that they were missing you too. Things weren’t different, not at all. But the one day that you were bored out of your mind and they all had different things to handle, you turned to the one thing that could cure your boredom: the Devildom’s version of TikTok. Oh how the boys will forever regret showing you that app, as it had let to their current downfall... 

Lucifer

So unfortunately this man is ALWAYS busy

It doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is, he’s always filling out paperwork. Whether it’s for Diavolo, credit card bills that Mammon racked up, Asmo’s impromptu fashion trips, Beel’s black hole of a stomach, etc.

And he doesn’t like to be disturbed at all unless it’s an emergency

So when you burst into his office out of nowhere, he was slightly irritated (but not that angry, since it was you and your presence was hardly a nuisance)

But that quickly changed whenever he heard you moaning his name in pain and looked up to see what looked like your flesh flaking off by the second

His eyes widen and he is instantly panicking. He’s trying to keep it on the inside but you start to “panic” which makes him shoot out of his seat

Instantly is by your side, trying to delicately hold you and also trying to figure out what the hell is going on

“MC! Are you in pain? What happened? Did someone put a curse on you?!”

Now, you weren’t putting on a Oscar worthy performance but you think you were selling it pretty good. And everything was working out until he grabbed your arm and inspected it closer that he realized he got played

First, he realized that your flesh wasn’t falling in chunks on the ground. Then, he realized that these flakes were awfully thin, and that parts of your arm felt sticky

He fully realized that he got pranked when he peeled off your “skin” off your neck and you giggled, then covered your mouth to realized that your cover was blown

Needless to say, he was not a happy demon

And you basically just signed your death warrant

Before you could even think about running, he grabbed you again and “asked” that you have a seat

Cue another long Lucifer lecture, with him explaining how this wasn’t a funny prank (even for human standards) and that you need to understand how serious this is

Which is his way of saying that he cares about you and was actually panicked and scared. You knew his pride made it hard for him to openly express himself. And while he is getting better slowly but surely, it’s still hard for him to do so. Which made you feel guilty, so you did genuinely apologized

“You’re right, Lucifer, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my greatest idea, as you can see. I didn’t realize how severely this affected you, and it wasn’t right for me to take advantage of that. I know how hard it is to express how you feel because of your pride, but I know how much you care for me even without saying it. It shows in how hard you work, and how you still manage to be there for everyone despite how stress you are. I shouldn’t be adding on to that stress, and I really am sorry for that. You really are a good person, Lucifer, and even though you can be very strict- wait! Let me finish,- you mean well because you care for us. And you don’t get enough credit for that. So, thank you for all that you do. I love you, truly and deeply.”

Despite being a little skeptical in the beginning (he thought you were trying to get out of a punishment, ha! Good luck with that) and ending with a flustered look that he tried to cover with his hand (which was obviously too late to do, you already saw), he did appreciate and accepted the apology.

“I love you too, MC. Truly and deeply.”

So that was your cue to get your hug (and maybe a little kiss) and he pushed you away! You were offended for a second, but you saw the disgusted look on your face and forgot that you were covered in dried glue. Oh yeahhhh...ew

So while you were back in his good graces, you still got punished. A 15 page essay on why doing horrific pranks like that on your loved ones is harmful and no HellTok for your remaining stay?! You know you deserve some type of consequence but geez, overkill much?!

But, he did hint to you that you could make him feel better by spending the night with him in bed

After you take a much needed shower of course

Mammon

As much as this tsundere tried to say he was “too busy” for you, we all know that’s a lie

Granted when you went to go bother him, he was busy

Busy with planning out new scams counting out whatever Grimm he had left, what items to sell and for what price: “maybe I could sell Levi’s golden Ruri-Chan vendor ring thing for some Grimm? He’ll flip but if I just “borrow” it for a little bit, he won’t know what hit ‘im!”

Seeing how focused he was, it was your time to shine

“M-Mamooon! Help me! Something’s w-wrong!”

That immediately got his attention

His head shot up and he rushed to you, panic clearing showing on his face and in his movements

“MC! What’s going on?! WHAT IS THIS!”

When you could physically see him shaking, sweating and on the brink of tears, you knew that it was time to stop while you were ahead

“Mammon wait-“

“We need to go to Lucifer NOW.”

And when he went to pick you up gently, and saw with his own two eyes the flakes slowly fall to the ground, was when hell broke loose

You have never heard him scream so loud before, and you were pretty sure everyone both in and out the house heard him

He lifted you up and you were pretty sure he was in his demon form when you both ran and/or flew (you couldn’t tell, that’s how fast you were moving) to Lucifer’s

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that you lived with actual demons, 7 of the strongest to be exact

When you both reached your destination (ie. barged into Lucifer’s room unprovoked) he was not pleased, but Mammon did not care.

You were one of (if not) the most important person in his life and he would be damned if anything happened to you again. He was your first man, your protector! And he was not going to fail. Not again. He would and will protect you with his life. At any costs

When you saw how serious he was , you tried to wiggle out of his arms, but all he did was just tighten up and say, “MC, quit squirmin’! I don’t want you to make this worse.”

“No, Mammon wait-“

“We’re going to fix this. I’m going to fix this and I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you again. Now stop moving! Lucifer, somethin’s wrong with MC! Look at how their skin is-“

“ITS A PRANK!”

It’s just a prank bro

“Wh-what?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you, I’m sorry!”

While you were explaining the whole process (with Lucifer staring on in building irritation), you were still in his arms

You already felt like a terrible being, but the guilt was steady skyrocketing when you were looking at his face

He looked like a kicked puppy left in the rain with a broken paw

You just kept apologizing over and over, until you heard a certain someone clear their throat.

“If you two are done interrupting me, I would like to get back to work. MC, stay behind, it seems like we need to have a little chat about your so called prank.”

Mammon put you down and walked out the room, head hanging and eyes covered.

You knew you screwed up big time. Forget about the incoming lecture, you felt absolutely terrible about pranking Mammon. Especially after hearing the “again” comment.

Once you finally got released (ie. punished), you all had dinner, which Mammon skipped out on

Geez, this was not suppose to happen and you needed to make it up to him ASAP

So here you were, standing outside his door (after you cleaned up) with two Hell Fire noodle cups, knocking timidly

“Hey, Mammon? Is it okay if I come in?”

Silence

“You weren’t down for dinner and I know that you’re hungry, so I brought us-you some noodles.”

Again, silence

You sighed, you knew you messed up big time and you were going to fix it, no matter what. 

“I’m sorry, Mammon. I’m so sorry. What started out as a joke turned into something serious, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have did that. Hurting you was never my intention, I care about you too much to do that. When I heard you say that you weren’t going to let anything happen to me again, I knew that I messed up. I know that you will always protect me, and I don’t have any doubt that you won’t. You’re my first man, remember? I know that you’ll always have my back, and I hope you know that I’ll always have yours too. You’re not just the Avatar of Greed to me Mammon, you’re my first guy that I’ll love forever. I won’t ever mess with you like this again, and if you don’t want to talk now that’s fine too, just know that I’ll always love and care for you, okay?”

Ughh and now you were crying!

You sighed. You understood if he didn’t want to talk to you. I mean, he thought you were dying again. It’s easy to forget the events that happened with Belphie, since everyone is communicating and acting like a real family, but you can see now that it left a deep emotional wound in Mammon. He believed that it was his fault that you weren’t saved, and he still carried the burden all this time.

You put the cup down outside the door and started to head back to your room. You would give him as much time as he needed. You just hate that you made him feel this way, that you rose those feelings out of him. And you hated yourself for it.

You barely stepped a foot away from the door when he saw it swing out and a big blob tackle-hugged you

Here was Mammon, sniffling and tearing up, hugging you

“*sniff* You stupid human.”

When he pulled away, you saw the tears in his eyes, which he tried to rub away before you could notice (sidenote: you already noticed)

“Ya-Ya really love me?”

“Of course, Mammon! How could I not? You stayed by my side through thick and thin, through everything. You protected me, and I will forever be grateful for that. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re not a selfish scum bag like everyone tries to make you out to be, Mammon, and I won’t let you believe that you are. You are my first man, the man that has constantly looked out for me, that has supported and cared for me, and most of all that has never failed to show how much love you have to give. I love you Mammon, always.”

Cue the blushing and cheeky grin

“Now come on the Great Mammon, our noodles are getting cold.”

It felt great to see that smile back on his face

And it felt even better to hear him say, “I love ya too, MC”

Leviathan

Levi was in his room, nothing new

He told you he had some sort of campaign that he absolutely could not afford to miss. Which he said about the other campaigns too but whatever

So when you knocked into his room, and he didn’t ask for the secret phrase, you knew he was in too deep to even pay attention to his surroundings

And the door was UNLOCKED

So you went in, ready to give him the scare of the decade, and-

He turned around in his gaming chair, raging and in his demon form

“UGH! How was that normie of a demon able to kill me with that move?! He has to be cheating! How is it that I’m one of the best players in the entire Devildom and I’m one of the first dead?! It’s not fair! It’s not fair, it’s not fair IT’S NOT FAI- huh? MC, why are you covered in *squints* dried up glue?”

You were honestly shook

Because 1: the third strongest brother was obviously furious and in his demon form which is not a good combination (your mind flashing back to the TSL quiz and whew was that not the best memory) and 2: how the hell was he able to know that this was glue?!

Okay, you weren’t scared of Levi, not at all! But you, just like everyone else, knew how serious he took his gaming

And you all knew how he could be when he was raging about it too

Not saying that he would ever harm or attack you, oh no. What happened at the beginning was just a...fluke! Yeah, just a little hiccup in your now longstanding relationship

But you were still just a tad bit hesitant to be caught in the crossfire of his rage

Really everyone was (except maybe Beel, but even he had his moments)

“LOL you look like one of the rotten magical zombie students from the anime “OMG I’m Just A Magical Girl in Training and Somehow I Turned the Whole School Into Zombies and Have to Fall in Love with a Demon to Reverse It!””

Okay, this was not the reaction you were looking for

“What the- but how-?

Then you remembered

Levi is a renowned cosplayer, the best in the game. It was obvious he knew what the dried up glue looked like considering how much he’s worked with it

You were of course disappointed, but oh well, you could always scheme to get him another way

And then it happened. Another devious idea popped into your head

“So you said I looked like a rotten zombie student huh?”

“Rotten magical zombie student . LOL don’t tell me that you don’t think you do- W-what are you doing MC?”

“Ughhh I’m a rotten magical school girl, and I’m not just hungry for brains, I’m hungry for love.”

“L-love?”

“Gughhh that’s right and only kisses can satiate my hunger. Demon kisses.”

Oh boy 

The way that you turned red so quick was always a surprising sight for you to see

“M-MC WAIT-”

“I want my kisses, Levi!”, you said it in your best zombie/monster voice

Cue his famous “WOOAHHHH”

“MC WAIT- YOU’RE COVERED IN GROSS DRIED GLUE OMG” 

The campaign was quickly forgotten when you tackled him to the ground, glue and all

Then you remembered how sensitive he was with physical contact, and tried to get up

“Oh Levi, I’m sorry! I forgot you don’t li-”

Something was still holding you against him

Specifically, that something was his tail

His tail was currently wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against the red-faced otaku

“Levi, you okay?”

“Y-y-yeah, I’m okay.” he said it in the tiniest voice you have ever heard.

“Do you want me to get-”

“NO! I-I mean yes! I mean no! N-no I don’t want you to get up. I’m okay.”

Today was just surprising you left and right huh?

But you weren’t complaining now

“But now we’re covered in nasty, peely glue. And what about your campaign?”

He looked at the screen, and then back at you

“It’s okay. It’s not worth it like I thought it was. It’s just a bunch of normies who either button mash or spam the same attack over and over. And I already got majority of the rewards anyway. Besides, now that another normie has me covered in icky cheap glue, I need to get it off.”

Whoops

“Sorry about that, Levi. I was just trying to prank you but looks like that failed. I could do your laundry for you since it was my bad. Is that okay?”

“O-or you could m-make it up to me by having by binge watching some anime? If you want, even though I’m a nasty, icky, worthless ot-”

“Levi. Look at me.”

You gently grabbed and held his face in your hands

“You’re not worthless or nasty okay? And I love to spend time with you. We can definitely have an anime marathon. I’ll always be by your side, I wouldn’t be your Henry if I wasn’t.”

“R-really?”, the way his eyes light up every time you praise or show him love will never get old

“Of course. But I do have to say that you are icky.”

“WHAT”

“But we both are. I mean I did kinda cover you in the flaky glue, and it’s starting to feel a little gross to be honest.”

“O-oh yeah. I-it’s your fault normie!”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”, you laughed. 

Atleast you somewhat pranked him

“So let’s get cleaned up, and I can bring some more snacks when I’m done. You wanna do the pillow fort like usual?”

“O-of course, normie!”

“Alright. I’ll see you in a few then!”, and you began walking out the room

He watched your trailing form, and honestly he didn’t want you to leave yet. That was apparent when his tail wrapped itself around you. I mean, how embarrassing was that?! But he couldn’t help it.

Levi cares about you immensely. You’re his best friend, his Henry! He didn’t know what you saw in someone like him, I mean damn, he was the Avatar of Envy! What’s attractive about someone being jealous 24/7?

He wasn’t outgoing like Asmo or Mammon, didn’t have the confidence like Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t good at building bonds like the twins (or at least like Beel)

What a human like you saw in him was still mind boggling, and he thought you were just tolerating him, just being nice. But, he saw how genuine you were as time went on. He saw you as someone special to him, you were his favorite real living person, his best friend, and honestly he wanted you to become more-

“Oh, Levi, one more thing.”

You quickly ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek

“I finally got my demon kiss, ughhh. My hunger has been satisfied!”

And ran right back out 

He blushed 100x more now, and he realized that maybe he wasn’t ready to take it to the next step just yet, but he was willing to be patient and work towards it

He was willing to make the effort because you’re worth it

[semistable17yearoldgirl]

You're like me (bucky x amputee reader) part 3/?

author's note: thank you!! This was my first ever note in my inbox and this means so much to me! I work really hard on my pieces so to have someone complement them is incredible. Enjoy the long awaited part 3!!

As Steve ran to get banner, Bucky was able to take a closer look at Y/N's arm. He could tell just by looking at it that it was clearly a hack job, and was done semi-recently. It was healed to an extent but the surgical (if you could even call them that) were still puckered and red. He felt a similar ache in his shoulder as he ran his fingers along the suture line of the wound, before remembering a horrific thought. Hydra was never a fan of anesthetics. It hit him like a bag of bricks as he remembered his own screams as they worked on his arm without any form of pain killers. It was then that Steve walked in with Bruce.

"Hey, you okay punk?" Steve asked seeing him. When Bucky turned around however, it was clear something was worse than he thought. Steve kneeled down to be beside him on the floor next to the medical cot. "Hey you're okay man, you're okay. Just breathe with me alright? I need you to tell me what's wrong" As Bucky gulped for air with a hand on his chest, he managed to explain in little increments. "Hydra... no... anes... anesthetics.. I... I remember" He whisper shouted before giving up on explaining. "Oh my god" Steve stood up as he rubbed a hand through his hair. He made eye contact with Banner who had the same look of shock in his eyes. “Steve I need you to carry her inside. I’ll deal with Buck, but we need to get her into a real medical bay fast. If what Buckys saying is true to her case, her body is most likely in shock and isn’t presenting symptoms that could be vital to us helping her.”

Without a word, Steve scooped up Y/N and started towards the medical wing without even looking back. He knew that Bucky would eventually follow, but that he was in good hands with Dr.Banner.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky unclenched his eyes to see Steve running out of the jet holding Y/N bridal style with her head resting on his shoulder. “NO!” He shouted, but Steve was already long gone. “I need.. I need to see her!” He said in a highly panicked voice, looking at Bruce with wild eyes.

“Okay, but I need you to listen to me first. Can you do that?”

Bucky nodded in response, allowing Bruce to continue.

“We need you to calm down so we can go into the med bay to treat her. We won’t be any use if we can’t stay calm for her sake. It’ll just make her more anxious if we walk in shaking. Okay?”

With a few deep breaths, Bucky finally trusted himself enough to respond without gasping in-between words. “Okay, okay I can do it” He stood up, and with the help of Banner, they picked up a quick pace up to the med bay.

Steve and Y/N’s POV

He tried to run with as much steadiness as possible, but he knew his efforts were futile. “Steve?” A quiet voice asked as her eyes fluttered open, only to clench again at the harsh jostling of his running. “It’s okay baby, we’re gonna get you to the med bay okay? It’s almost over I promise. Just keep those eyes open okay doll?”

Her breathing was coming out in short pants, as she kept her eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t long before she felt herself being laid on the bed, and Bucky and Bruce hustle in.

Back to normal POV

Bucky sat in a plastic chair next to her bed, holding her remaining flesh hand as Banner ran around gathering supplies. It’s gonna be okay baby doll alright? I promise” Bucky whispered as Banner pulled a tray to her bedside.

“We’re gonna treat the burn first because it’s the easiest to take care of okay? It shouldn’t be that painful, just cold. I’m just gonna spray some water on it and put a bandage over it. I won’t rap anything around your neck I promise.’

She nodded feebly and gripped Bucky’s hand, and turned her head to face him, exposing her neck and burn to Bruce.

“You’re doing great love, you’re so strong.” Bucky kept whispering sweet things to her as Bruce finished patching up the burn.

“Hey Buck, Steve? Can I pull you guys aside for a second?” Bruce asked. Seeing the worried look on Y/N’s face, he turned back and added “nothing bad, just work stuff” Seeing her face ease at this, the 3 man walked just outside the med bay doors.

“I’m gonna need to clean the wounds on her arm and I can tell by the looks of it that it isn’t gonna be pleasant or pretty, so heres what we’re gonna do” Bruce explained. Bucky cringed remembering when he had doctors touching around his wound after his amputation. “Buck I’m gonna get you to lay on the bed behind her, and im gonna raise the bed to a sitting position. She’s gonna sit between your legs and lay with her back on your chest to keep her calm, and keep her head from looking at her arm while I clean it.” Bruce continued. “Steve, you’re gonna sit where Bucky was and hold her hand, and be back up. Got it?” Everybody nodded and they returned into the room.

“Hey honey, can I sit with you?” Bucky asked as they walked in. Oblivious to what was about to happen, you nodded and got off the bed so he could sit where he wanted. He offered for you to sit between his legs and you took it, leaning back onto his chest, looking for any kind of comfort you could get.

Bruce scooted beside you on your left side on a wheel-ie stool with a syringe (minus the needle of course) of saline and a sad look on his face. “Okay darling, I know this won’t be fun but I have to clean your arm. If I don’t all the dirt in the wounds will get infected.”

“NO!” You screamed and started thrashing, trying everything to get away. Bucky rapped his legs around yours, and rapped his medal arm around your torso, as Steve held your flesh arm down. “NO PLEASE!!! PLEASE!” You sobbed, not being able to breathe from pure terror. The sight shattered all 3 mens’ hearts as you begged for them not to touch your arm.

“Shhhh” Bucky cooed, trying to calm you down. “I know it’s scary baby doll, but if we don’t do this it’ll only hurt worse later down the line”

You had stopped thrashing at one point, simply too tired to continue. Bucky held one side of your face, stroking your cheek to turn your head away from your left side, as Steve stroked soothing circles on your remaining arm. “It’s gonna be okay baby, I promise” Steve whispered, afraid his own tears might start to fall.

“I’m gonna start okay Honey?” Bruce cautiously asked.

“O…Okay” You hiccuped, still gasping for breath.

[djmarinizelablog]

hi! read your last ask and you said that you took up creative writing classes so you might have a wider knowledge about this but i was wondering when u mentioned different writing styles (like minimalistic, hightened imagery, linear vilennete and all of that) could you maybe explain the difference and what they really mean and maybe examples in our own levihan nation and writers? this might be asking for too much but i was pretty lost and i'd like to know more about all that. however you are def free to ignore this too!

Did you just ask me to write a comprehensive poetics essay, Anon? (I love writing about writing lmao)

Super long post ahead, and I’ll be citing certain fanfics that I’ve read so far and those that I think somehow exemplifies all the different writing styles I mentioned in the previous post. 

First off, the ones I listed beforehand (minimalistic prose, heightened imagery, poetic language, linear narrative, non-linear vignettes) aren’t the only types of writing styles. There are more if you consider the variations of tone (humor/comedy, sentimental, macabre, noir etc), narration/perspective (first person, second person, third person omniscient/limited), and language (dialogue-heavy or action/scene-driven). And the nice thing is that you can actually use of one or two of them in your work---or all of them, if you’re feeling bold. 

As Hange always loves to do: “Let’s experiment!”

--------

I’ll start with minimalistic prose. It is what it is: short, clear, and concise. Think less is more. You have an economy with words where you disregard most adverbs and focus more on the context to make way for meaning, thus allowing the readers to create their own interpretations of your writing. I think the method here is to write your intended draft first, and then cut the unnecessary words to flesh out the scene even more.

Notice how @stereobone wrote this paragraph of Black Dog (an Eruri fic):

Isabel's voice wakes him, brother, brother, has him sitting upright in bed and grabbing for the knife under his mattress. He braces himself for the attack before he realizes there isn't one. There is nothing in the darkness but him and his heavy, panicked breathing. Levi's heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of his chest. He drops the knife on the mattress and shuts his eyes and tries not to think about Farlan's bloody resigned face before he was eaten. He tries not to think about how he left them. How it's his fault.

It’s very simplistic in language; the paragraph lets you focus on Levi’s innermost thoughts while he deals with an external action (ie, having nightmares). The author hasn’t unraveled the rest of the plot yet, but you already know where the tension is coming from.

Next is heightened imagery. If you’re familiar with the different figures of speech (metaphor, simile, personification, hyperbole, etc), then this is where they all come into play. I think the challenge here is being able to balance it well with the text itself and make sure that the imagery actually clarifies the context of the paragraph instead of convoluting the intended meaning. 

Here’s an excerpt from A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me:

Hanji watched Levi, standing there, head bent and bloodied handkerchief pressed against his arm, and was reminded, irrationally, of a night years ago. When her parents had taken her to the circus. [. . . .] Holding her parent’s hands, she’d gaped, head craned back as she watched the spectacle, a cacophonous mixture of sound and color. At the center of it all, she’d spied a boy. Among the twisting colors and tricks, he alone, was still. [. . . .] The boy was high above, balancing on a platform atop a long pole. In front of him, stretched an audaciously thin rope. Below, no net waited to catch him.

[. . . .]

When Levi looked up, his expression was set - like the boy before the tightrope. And she knew, with sinking certainty, he was going to take the step. Into thin air.

Gray eyes met her gaze and held it.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

At the door, Kenny smiled.

See how the powerful imagery of the boy on the tightrope was able to fuel the tension in that moment among Levi, Hange, and Kenny? 

I think poetic language is akin to heightened imagery, except that the former is more focused on the actual language. It’s very lyrical, wherein you can actually hear the lulling song of the sentences in a rhythm. One of my favorite works that does this is Deep sea baby by @smallblip. Here she makes use of various setting and scenery to create this entire atmosphere of Levi and Hange’s relationship:

Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.

The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.

The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.

One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.

"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.

He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

It’s hauntingly poetic, the way the author is able to connect the metaphor in “a river of words” to the actual body of water right in front of Levi and Hange. Good poetic language is able to tighten up the texts together while keeping the sentence structure flowing with apt figures of speech.

When it comes to narratives, it only comes down to linear or non-linear. See how @lostcauses-noregrets does her opening statement in Trains (also an Eruri fic):

Levi hates trains. To be fair, Levi hates all forms of public transport, but he reserves a particular loathing for trains. They’re dirty, noisy, smelly and worse, filled with people. People who, heaven forbid, might attempt to speak to Levi, engage him in conversation. Levi’s worst nightmare is being stuck on a train with some friendly fuck who wants to pass the time making small talk. Admittedly it’s not a problem he has to deal with too often, his general fuck off demeanour deters all but the most aggressively friendly and hopelessly inebriated. But that doesn’t stop Levi from hating trains.

It’s a short fic and it’s very dependent on the linearity of events happening. But with that banger of a first sentence, the beginning already gives you enough of an idea of Levi’s pet peeve in the story, which in this case, is trains.

Here’s another hot and steamy fic called keep him waiting by keobuns that shows a linear narrative: 

He’s sitting with them in the back of the lab, nursing a cup of tea — it’s still pretty full, and even cold now, for he was far too distracted listening to Hanji talk to properly drink — when he sees it. Hanji’s too preoccupied with overexplaining the same Titan experiment they’ve gone over a hundred times to notice his stare. They just continue on and on and on, gesturing with their hands, pointing with their fingers, flexing their wrists…

Ah. Levi has to bring his teacup to his lips to hide the way his lips tremble. Hanji has incredibly nice hands.

The entire story just revolves around Levi simping for Hange’s hands and how it all goes down from there. But you as a reader are kept wanting more with every paragraph and every sentence that the author constructs (and trust me, it’s not just the sexual tension between Levi and Hange that keeps us going).

Now, as much as I love the straightforwardness of linear prose, non-linear writing brings a different round of ideas onto the table. It can create recollections from flashbacks, heighten the perspective or interior turmoil of a character due to trauma or grief, or even just re-invent what-if scenes that the characters have imagined themselves. 

Gnossiene by @thatalmondgirl​ is one of my all-time favorite Rivetra fics. In this excerpt, you will see how she switches between the past and the present, and how it affects Petra’s POV as a conflicted character:

Contrary to popular belief (fuck Auruo) Petra actually didn’t cry easily.

Alright, she could admit that at some times, she was...emotional. It was far from a weakness, but even she could admit that they sometimes got in the way and walled off all rational thought. Anger, frustration, sadness, hell, even happiness. The only one she could easily compartmentalise away was fear, which probably stemmed from her military career. Even so. It was never easy to separate all the others from her actions, think from a clean slate like the Commander could do, like the captain. [. . . ] Petra groaned, splayed out across her bed. She drew her arm across her eyes, willing the tears to go away. She’d already blown through her tissue box.

“Petra, a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” Mama sat on the end of her bed, with Petra on the floor between her legs. Even though Petra argued firmly that she was old enough to brush her own hair, Mama had insisted. Unfortunately, Petra wasn’t old enough - and probably never would be - to disagree with her mother.

“I know, Mama.” Petra grumbled.

“I don’t think you do. Else you wouldn’t be crying, would you?”

[. . . .]

“But a man shouldn’t complete you when you complete yourself. Maybe he’s an extension to your house. So you’ll be sad if the extension is compromised or burns down. But you still have the main house. And if it’s strong, the main house can still be standing even after the worst storm.”

Aside from Mama’s crazy metaphors that sometimes didn’t make sense, her message hit home. Even if it hit home years later.

See how it switched in between the before and after? 

An off-shoot of non-linear writing are vignettes (a layering of scenes separated by section breaks) wherein this writing style allows writers to curate scenes in terms of fragments, creating some kind of mosaic for the readers once they finally see the big picture. Nakimochiku’s I’m leaving, are you coming with me? stacks up scenes of interactions between Levi and Hange, enough to depict the kind of relationship that they have as young lovers in a school setting. You can string these fragments together, rearrange them in a different order, but in the end, you will still get the author's clear goal of highlighting how Levi and Hange’s relationship develops over time.

Those are the styles that I mentioned in my previous posts, but as I’ve told you, there’s more to writing than those, so I’ll give a short run-through of other methods in writing. 

Whether it’s dialogue-heavy works such as from my window to yours, or action-driven scenes like Carnivores (a Levi x Reader fic by CaptainDegenerate) that propel the story forward, we as readers should be able to follow through the actual storyline that the authors intend to take us. 

A third-person limited (we listen to Hange’s thoughts in Clockwork by @tundrainafrica) vis-à-vis an all-knowing/omniscient narration (the moon is dark by @sayonarasanity alternates the perspective of Levi and Hange) should be able to make us understand why the author chose this particular kind of point-of-view in order to tell the story. 

And lastly, having a solid and consistent tone throughout the work (the macabre of Even Humanity’s Strongest could make mistakes by Rimeko versus the sweet sentimentality of Flowers for You by @fanmoose12) should be able to set the atmosphere that the authors want us to imbibe as we read through their works. 

So there’s your crash course on writing and reading. Enjoy? :) 

[ahgaseda]

pray | one

you are more than my existence, please listen to my prayer, hold me, tell me about myself, call my name so I can know who I am...

summary : everyone knows of the unspeakable evil that lives on the mountain, but you willingly sacrifice yourself to the demon named Jaebeom, as long as he takes you far away from the monster waiting for you at home.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, instances of blood and violence, graphic sexual content, black magic themes, potentially triggering elements that involve mentions of past child abuse, mental health, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

A demon lived in the shadow of the mountain. That was the legend you were always told. Each time as a restless child you wandered toward the woods, your mother - aware that scolding held little effect on you - would try to instill some sense of terror instead.

“The demon will catch you and drag you away,” she would say, voice a high shrill.

I wish he would, you often told yourself.

There were days you sat for hours on end, gazing into the darkness of the forest. You imagined wraiths and monsters and any other deadly creature that could devour you without consequence.

You wanted to be devoured. It was the closest to salvation from your father you would ever find.

It went without saying you had no friends. You were the strange little girl that would rather chase butterflies and climb trees, always lingering dangerously close to the forest’s border.

“She wants to dance with the demon,” other children would tease in a jeering song.

You paid them no mind. The woods enraptured you, beckoned you within her boughs. You would cup a hand to your mouth and send out a call, wordless notes that your soft voice would carry into the shadows. The woods would sigh, caressing you with wisps of wind that let you know your calls were heard.

Stamping your little bare feet, you would gather courage to enter. It was forbidden to enter the accursed forest, where black magic was known to breed. Though you considered yourself brave, you feared the punishments that would follow if you were caught. And for that reason alone, you returned home every time.

Not until you woke on a rainy day to find your mother gone were you finally driven to enter. Without her, there was no one to protect you. She had left you alone and defenseless with a man that drank away his sorrows. In your young mind, you didn’t blame her for saving herself, but you would resent her for it for the rest of your life.

Bare feet plodded across the fields. The kids threw rocks cruelly at you when you passed by, but you were much too fast. You heard their words, full of hatred and scorn, and kept running.

You reached the border, a small child staring into the gaping maw of the black forest. Survival pulsed through your veins. In that moment, you decided whatever lived inside the forest was far less dangerous than the man outside it.

“Please,” you whispered, hands clasped before you in prayer. “Grant me safe passage.”

Then, you stepped inside.

The first thing you noticed was the softness of the ground beneath your feet. The fields had been rough and coarse against your soles, but even now, something cooled your broken skin. You looked around in curious awe, the smallest rays of light piercing through the canopy overhead. When the mist hit the rays of light just right, little rainbows appeared in their wake.

You reached out, touching one of the trees. Dainty pink flowers grew from its bark, winding between your fingers. You giggled, marveling the buds and their tiny leaves. Birds alighted on every branch to chirp curiously at your presence.

Further in, you continued, turning in a circle as you walked, just to make sure you didn’t miss a single sight. It was like nothing you had ever seen or even dreamt of in your wild imagination.

Suddenly, the air cooled. The wind rushed. You rubbed your arms as your breath appeared like smoke. The birds disappeared into the heights of the trees.

You came to a stop, listening to the loud beating of wings. It sounded like a bird, a thousand fold.

The boy alighted before you, wings rustling at his shoulders.

You could hardly believe your eyes, mouth opening in shock. Surely before you stood a boy, no much older than yourself, but the similarities were few. Enormous black wings arched above his shoulders, still shifting as the boy levelled his gaze at you harshly.

“Why are you here?” he asked with impatience.

Your attention had landed on the dark curved horns sprouting from the top of his skull, then drifted to his skin. He wore no shirt, only trousers. You could imagine what a hassle pulling a shirt on over wings would be, but you moved your interest to the black ink in his flesh. He was covered in script from neck to fingers and everything in between, etched with a language you would never hope to understand.

“What are you?” you asked with a child’s naivety.

The boy tilted his head. “What do I look like?” he replied, almost menacingly.

The little fear you had promptly evaporated. Your lips parted in a wide grin and you giggled, exclaiming, “You’re a fairy!”

The boy’s brows stitched and the most incredulous frown took over his face. “A… fairy?” he exclaimed in disgust.

You raced forward, colliding into him and wrapping your arms around his bare waist. “I prayed to the woods for safe passage and she sent you to protect me!”

The boy grasped your arms and attempted to pry you off, adamant. “I’m not protecting you.”

“Of course, you are,” you said with glee, pulling your head back from his chest to peer up at his face. “The woods said so.”

Surly, he wrinkled his nose and barked, “I don’t listen to trees.”

You let your hands fall from his body, taking a step back. “Everyone knows there’s magic in this forest.”

Of all the creatures you expected to find, he was the last possibility. A child much like you, despite wings and horns and a host of tattoos in his skin. You marveled the script on his chest, but you knew it would be quite rude to ask for a translation at the moment.

“Dark magic,” he corrected sternly, striding forward and waving his hand. “Come with me.”

You watched him walk past you and didn’t hesitate to do as told. You followed the short-tempered boy back to the border, eyes on his long wings as you trodded behind him.

He pointed at the forest’s edge and cocked his head, clearly motioning for you to take your leave. “Now, go,” he snapped.

You turned sulky. “Can’t I stay a little longer?”

“No,” the boy replied without missing a beat.

You puffed up your cheeks and began to pout.

The winged boy furrowed his brow and asked, “What are you doing?”

You stomped your feet and grasped his wrist between your hands, tugging on his arm. “Let me stay!”

“You humans are strange,” he murmured under his breath.

You released his hand and broke into a sprint, breezing past him and toward the deep shadows of the forest. The boy rolled his eyes at your attempt of escaping him.

You didn’t get far and you gasped aloud when the boy appeared from overhead and landed squarely in front of you. It was hard to stop considering how fast you were going and you smacked against his hard chest, falling backwards onto the ground with a thud.

“Clumsy things,” he sighed, pretending to brush dirt from his shoulder.

You got to your feet, dusting off your legs, and looked up at him with amusement. “What is your name?”

“Jaebeom,” he replied, surprised at himself for being so forthcoming.

You gave him your name, though he did not ask for it.

“Mm,” was all Jaebeom said. Then, he turned and proceeded to walk away.

You trailed behind him and surveyed his wings again, finding them astounding in every aspect of the word. “How far can you fly?”

“Far.”

“How high?” you pressed.

“High.”

You scowled at him, finally getting irritated at his curt replies, and asked, “You don’t have many friends, do you?”

Jaebeom blinked, turning to you confusedly. As if your question had completely thrown him off balance.

“You seem like you don’t know how to have a conversation,” you explained, softening at his expression.

“There’s never been a need,” he replied sadly.

Your heart ached at that. It was a feeling you knew all too well. “I can be your friend, if you like,” you offered sweetly. “Your first friend!” At that, you extended your arm.

Jaebeom glanced down at your outstretched hand, clearly unimpressed.

You smiled with delight when he finally shook your hand. Even among his kind, the gesture was recognized.

Jaebeom shrugged, hiding his interest. “What do friends do?”

“Well,” you began, moving to his side as he continued to walk between the trees. “We talk and play and tell each other stories. We ask about each other’s day and…”

By the time night fell, you managed to draw the faintest of smiles from Jaebeom. And there was no way in hell you weren’t going to bring loud attention to it.

Pointing at his face, you exclaimed, “You smiled!”

He gawked and quickly deadpanned, “I did not.”

“I made you smile!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and deflected, “I’m only smiling because it’s nighttime now and that means it’s finally time for you to leave.”

You chuckled at his dryness, knowing by the aforementioned smile he had grown to enjoy your company. “Next time I’ll make you laugh,” you told him with a mischievous grin. “Just you wait and see.”

Jaebeom, who had been looking down at his feet pensively, reared his head up in surprise. “Next time?”

“Bye, Jaebeom-ie,” you called with a wave, stepping through the opening in the forest’s edge. “Thank you for making me forget how sad I was.”

Jaebeom’s face softened and his eyes burned with the threat of tears. “You were sad?”

But you had already run far enough not to hear him. Your heart was swelling, feeling joy for the first time in such a long time. This day, a day you swore would be the worst in your life, had become the best because of a winged boy named Jaebeom.

Jaebeom felt an ache in his chest. For the hours you spent with him inside the woods, you had been sad and yet you spent all of your energy simply trying to get a smile out of him. Jaebeom wanted to find whatever - or whoever - had made you sad and remove them from the face of the earth forever.

“Until next time, cheonsa,” he spoke softly before turning back to the dark loneliness of the forest and vanishing inside.

You could barely sleep. You thought endlessly of your new friend - your only friend. You told no one about him. Not that you had anyone you would want to tell.

Slipping into the woods became your happiness. You spent any possible hour hidden away among the trees. Jaebeom always sensed your return, as if the forest eagerly told him, and would join you within seconds of your entering. After a few months, you began to assume he waited near the border for you.

Together, you and Jaebeom grew from clumsy children to blossoming teenagers. Jaebeom was the first to notice the change. Suddenly, he was nervous to rough and tumble with you as he usually did. You were quite disappointed at not wrestling in the mud with him anymore, but to him, it seemed overnight you began smelling too good.

Though Jaebeom always playfully teased you, soon he was too awkward to do so. And you noticed how you began to win most of the rounds of verbal sparring. As you grew, your body changed shape. Feminine curves reminded Jaebeom you were becoming a woman and he was becoming a man.

Teasing turned to flirtation, which was dangerous. Jaebeom could tell you were receptive to his little touches and his occasional hungry remarks. He rebuked himself for not being more careful, for letting friendship drift too close to romance. Sadly, Jaebeom knew he could no longer prolong the inevitable.

On the morn of your seventeenth birthday, you escaped into the forest like any other day.

As you stepped inside her borders, you rubbed at tears with a rough hand. It had been torture at home. You were facing a fate worse than death in your eyes. Careful to never let Jaebeom see you cry, you dabbed at your wet cheeks with the sleeves of your dress.

Little did you know, Jaebeom perched in the tree above. His blood boiled. Someone had hurt you and on your birthday no less. He was angry, but stifled the rage for your sake.

Jaebeom descended before you as he always did. After years in his company, you never gasped in surprise when he landed just shy of you.

Flashing a smile, you greeted, “Good morning.”

“Is it?” he questioned, never giving an inch.

You shifted nervously and watched him move closer. “I’m a woman now,” you finally spoke, fighting back tears. “They have discussed selling me to a princeling or a lord. Some nonsense about me being beautiful.”

“Total nonsense,” Jaebeom retorted, trying to make you smile. Though the news made all the blood drain from his face.

“It’s strange,” you mulled softly. “Being sold like a broodmare. I’ve never felt more like an animal than I do today.”

Jaebeom grit his teeth. Fire licked across his skin.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your voice trembled, “My aunt told me today that the first few times will be unpleasant. More than likely, the man who buys my hand in marriage will not care about my comfort.”

Jaebeom wanted to snap any man in half that hurt you and he snarled, “Why are we talking about this?”

“Oh,” you said, flushing with embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry. I was… thinking out loud, I suppose.”

Jaebeom regretted the harshness of his words. Clearly you were scared and he could do nothing to comfort you.

You spent the day with your only friend in somber, peaceful quiet. Jaebeom took you to all of your favorite places. The river to feed the koi, with their glistening scales of every shade of every color amongst the lily pads. The winding trees to see the newly hatched crop of vibrant parrots followed.

Even the rare red stag came to greet you, allowing your hand to touch his snout. You were hard pressed to find a creature as beautiful. You always gaped at him in awe.

Jaebeom’s eyes were on you, never wavering. He knew you would assume the visits to your favorite reaches of the forest would be in celebration of your birthday. Not in a final farewell.

He was letting you say goodbye.

When the sun began to set, Jaebeom led you to the border. You almost made him drag you.

“I… have a present for you,” Jaebeom finally said, rifling in his back pocket.

“Jaebeom,” you sighed. “I told you that wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, you told me that after I started making it so…,” he countered in feigned scolding. “I didn’t want it to go to waste. That’s all.”

You snickered. He was always deflecting and you expected nothing less.

Jaebeom wasn’t the only one who had noticed the changes in your bodies. You were well aware of the broad expanse of his chest, the bulging muscles of his arms, and the chiseled lines of his stomach. There were many times you had to resist the urge to slip into his arms. You wanted to feel the heat of his body against yours. It was maddening; the warmth that emanated from him.

Jaebeom finally handed you the tiny box, snapping you from your reverie.

Your heart fluttered. Tears pricked at your eyes before you had even opened it. Lowering your head bashfully, you whispered, “I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift.”

That wounded him deeply, though his expression stayed neutral. “Happy birthday, cheonsa,” was all Jaebeom said.

You could hardly believe your eyes as they blurred with tears. Inside the box was a ring. The dark stone was held by gleaming silver, small strands twisting like the roots of trees to hold the gem securely in its center.

“Jae…,” you breathed, lost for words. “It’s…”

“It’s a black diamond,” he explained anxiously. “They are supposedly very rare. Like you.”

You pulled the ring from the box, slipping it on your finger slowly. Were you even worthy to wear something of such value?

“You don’t like it,” Jaebeom groaned at your silence. “I should have known it was too dark. I can try to find something else.”

“Stop,” you replied, peering up at him as the tears escaped and rolled down your cheeks. “It’s beautiful.”

He was thrown by your emotion. “You’re sure?”

You wiggled your fingers, staring at the gift with affection, and whispered, “Never in my life have I seen something so beautiful.”

“I have,” Jaebeom blurted, immediately biting his tongue.

The admission was lost on you. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“I will cherish it forever.”

Jaebeom held up a finger. “One last present.”

“Jaebeom,” you started.

Before you could argue, Jaebeom swooped you in his arms and beat his great wings. You cried out in surprise, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you were carried higher and higher into the air.

The trees hummed, branches moving from his path as Jaebeom ascended even further. He had never flown with you before. Jaebeom knew he would have to be full grown before he could carry another person with his wings. Now, he was at the cusp of adulthood and to him, this would be his only chance to let you feel flight.

The two of you appeared in the canopy. You clinged to Jaebeom desperately, panting hard on his neck.

“Open your eyes, silly girl,” he teased, coming to sit at the summit of a tree and holding you securely in his lap.

You listened to the familiar sound of his wings relaxing, folding to his back dutifully. The air wisped past your ears and tasted crisp on your tongue. You had never been this high in your life, no matter how many trees you climbed in your youth.

Opening your eyes, fresh tears streamed down your cheeks.

The forest continued for miles and miles, stretching past what your vision could see. The horizon was endless. But at the center of your gaze was the ever-looming mountain. Its heights were hidden in the clouds.

“I never knew,” you stammered. “It’s such a big world.”

Jaebeom chuckled, his eyes on your face filled with such wonder. The sun’s rays reflected in your glistening eyes. Jaebeom knew in that moment he was hopelessly enamored.

You would never know the pain he endured for your sake. He could not survive in the sun. Even as he held you while the sunset splashed the sky with her colors, the sun punished him. The ink scrawled across his skin burned.

But he swore it was worth it to see the sky painted in your eyes.

You heard your name on his tongue and turned to meet his gaze, surprised above everything else when his lips touched yours.

Jaebeom had kissed you before, but nothing like this. Yes, his lips had graced your cheek or the corner of your mouth, and many times you pressed your lips to his brow or nose in playful flirting.

Nothing like this.

The surprise faded and you let your eyes flutter closed. Less afraid, you released your vice grip on his shoulders and slid your fingers into his dark hair, deepening the kiss.

Jaebeom lit a fire inside your soul, coaxing it to the surface with his heated kisses. You moaned softly at the push and pull of his hands kneading your back. The sound brought Jaebeom back to reality and without warning, he fell backwards, tumbling back through the canopy with you in his arms.

You yelled at first, terrified at the sensation of free-falling, but quieting when you remembered the man who held you could fly. His wings unraveled and punished the air with powerful beats, allowing Jaebeom to alight on a branch.

Jaebeom kept his hands on your waist, letting you regain your balance, and grunted when you melded your lips back on his. You tugged on his hair, hungry for the fire he made race through your veins. Jaebeom smirked darkly against your mouth, flicking his tongue between your lips.

Then, he remembered what he had to do.

When Jaebeom broke away, you swayed where you stood, steadied only by his rough hands around your waist, coaxing up and down your lower back. Had you known kissing was such a rush, you would have kissed him a long time ago.

Your eyes met and you giggled, bashful. Jaebeom lowered his head, hiding a smug grin, hair falling in his face.

“Please,” you sighed breathlessly. “Keep kissing me.”

Without another word, Jaebeom stepped from the branch with you in his clutches, using a single beat from his wings to land gracefully on the ground. His eyes burned into yours and the forest suddenly felt undeniably warmer.

Jaebeom lay you on a soft bed of grass, propping himself over you and kissing you tenderly. You were aware of his body on yours, how he had made himself comfortable between your thighs.

And you were content to kiss him for an eternity.

The playful teasing was long gone. The air was thicker. This was a mood you had never felt. This was intimacy, raw and unbridled. You were in the arms of the boy you loved and the only person you trusted.

With your fingers tangled in his long hair, you kept him trapped to you, humming softly at his lips melding with yours. You slipped your hands down his chest, tracing your nails over the endless ink scribbled expertly in his skin, and moved to grip his shoulders. Your touch wandered closer to his wings, feeling where the joints connected to his back.

The moment you touched their bases, the wings came alive at your touch, fanning and stretching overhead and rustling with excitement. You suddenly felt that no one had ever touched Jaebeom’s wings and the act itself was considered an intimate one. Jaebeom kissed you even harder, darting out his tongue to rub along your lip.

Jaebeom palmed your breast and your breath hitched. He broke the kiss to look into your eyes, assuring himself you were alright with his touch. You didn’t hesitate to grab his hand, steering it lower to the hem of your blouse and guiding him underneath to your bare skin.

You moaned softly when his hand settled on your naked breast. Jaebeom kneaded and caressed, rubbing his thumb over your nipple. His lips broke from yours and brushed over your jaw. When you felt his mouth on your neck, you arched into his touch and locked your ankles behind his back.

Something was happening between your legs - a tugging ache you had never felt before.

“Jaebeom,” you sighed, squirming beneath him. His kisses on your neck were making you crazy, filled with a need completely new to you.

You succumbed to the way he made your pulse race, undulating beneath him and roaming your hands restlessly across his body. His skin felt hot, scalding against your fingertips, like he was burning alive and you were to blame.

“I, um,” you hesitated, clearing your throat. “What if we…”

Jaebeom sucked beneath your ear and hummed, “Hm?”

You blinked, heart thundering against your ribs. “Can I give myself to you?”

Jaebeom’s eyes flickered at the thought, but his voice was firm against your neck. “No.”

Your heart sank, surprise sharply fading into disappointment. “But if I do, then they can’t sell it.”

Jaebeom met your gaze, nuzzling your nose with his own, and spoke sadly, “I can’t.”

You peered up at him through the haze, through the warmth the two of you had begun to make together. Questions and pleas raced through your mind, but all you could bring yourself to ask was, “Why?”

“It’s different for my kind,” Jaebeom explained, pupils dilated wide. “It means more to us.”

That stung and you did nothing to hide it. Lips trembling, you cried, “And it means nothing to me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jaebeom said hurriedly, shaking his head and causing more hair to stray into his face.

You looked away, resisting the overwhelming urge to cry. You weren’t worthy of him. He didn’t say it, but that was how you felt.

Jaebeom felt you unhook your ankles and let your legs slip from his hips, and he knew he had made a mistake. He never was good at wording things properly.

He gazed down at you with longing, realizing the position he was in; you on your back beneath him, him laying between your thighs. Heaven knew he wanted you more than anything. He had never desired another person before in his life. Only you, for as long as he could remember.

But he couldn’t make love to you. If he did, he would belong to you forever.

Jaebeom sat up, lifting you with him. You pulled away from him once on steady footing and Jaebeom rubbed his thumb across your bottom lip. You lowered your head, nervous.

“I’m sorry, cheonsa,” he whispered. Jaebeom wanted to fall to his knees and beg your forgiveness. Here he was, desiring nothing more than to destroy any man who hurt you and yet he had cut you deep.

“Don’t be sorry,” you quickly told him, putting on a brave face. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Jaebeom knew that was a lie, but he didn’t challenge you. He cocked his head toward the border and you gave him a nod, dragging your feet as you followed.

Heading toward the forest edge, you turned back to him and asked, “See you tomorrow?”

Jaebeom grit his teeth, pushing down the surge of emotions threatening to crush him. “No.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Don’t come back here again unless you plan to stay.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Your heart vanished somewhere in your stomach. “What? Why?” you exclaimed. This had to have been nothing more than a cruel joke.

“When I reach full maturity, I have to take a bride,” said Jaebeom, avoiding your eyes.

“Jaebeom, you will never reach maturity,” you teased, trying to alleviate the sudden tension with humor.

Jaebeom tightened his hands into fists and forced the words out, “I’m serious. And if you’re the one that comes, then I will have no choice but to take you.”

You stepped away from the path, rounding on him squarely. Only a moment ago, you had willingly offered yourself to him. You had never felt so bemused and out of place. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because you deserve more,” he murmured, pained. “You deserve a life in the light. Not trapped in my darkness or my curse.”

Your face tensed with oncoming tears when you realized what all of this meant. You were being cast out from the woods and Jaebeom had not taken you, because he was saving himself for someone else. “I would rather be trapped in your curse than mine,” you countered, resistant.

Jaebeom shook his head and huffed, “He’s not a curse. You can escape him. Make a life for yourself. The simple life you’ve always wanted.”

Your lips trembled and you felt yourself breaking when you said, “With a man that hurts me?”

Your voice almost made him come undone. Jaebeom had sworn never to disappoint you. For years he wondered if you would be the one he chose to take when the time came, but after seeing you beneath the sun, he knew he couldn’t condemn you to an eternity in the shadows.

“Don’t try to change my mind,” he snapped.

You bristled with anger and shot back, “Why not? You want me to make a life for myself. Well, the life I want is with you.”

Jaebeom threw up his hands and angled away, resolve crumbling. “You don’t even understand what that means,” he shouted bitterly.

You had never confessed your feelings to him. Jaebeom was a vault, but you could feel him slipping away from you forever. “I understand that I love…,” you began shakily.

Jaebeom was on you then, covering your mouth with his hand. His eyes were scalding, filled with tears. “Don’t say it. You have no idea what I am and what I will become. You have always seen me as something good and kind, but I’m not. I’m far from it.”

You pulled his hand away, showing him no fear with how he had backed you against a tree, and said, “You’re a demon.”

Jaebeom blinked.

“I’ve known all along,” you told him. “My people tell tales of your kind. Demons live in the shadow of this mountain. It is why the forest is forbidden. Dark magic breeds here. The elders sing songs of the winged men that steal away the most beautiful of mortal women.”

Jaebeom backed away, surprised. “You knew?”

“Yes.”

Jaebeom’s face tensed with confusion. “And still you kept coming back here?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered, carding your fingers into his black hair. “I’m afraid of them.”

Jaebeom gathered you back in his arms and leaned his head against yours, eyes filled with tears. He was in physical agony. He couldn’t imagine being parted from your warmth for even a moment. All this time you knew what he was and yet you never feared him, never rebuked him for the monster that he was and would always be.

Then, he said, “Go.”

When his arms slipped from your body, you clutched him to you tighter and whimpered, “Jaebeom, you’re the only happiness in my life.”

“I mean it,” he hissed, spitting your name like venom. “Get out.”

You could do nothing when he pried you from him, pushing you backwards just enough to put distance between the two of you. The air turned cold. Winter had come in the fraction of a second. The forest seemed to shroud, cloaking itself in darkness.

“No, Jaebeom,” you shouted, planting your feet. “I know you love me.”

Jaebeom lowered his head, hiding his face and displaying his horns in aggression. Wings outstretched above him and the woods howled a piercing cry that made your blood run cold. He slightly lifted his hands, bold with ebony symbols and script, and thorns began to grow.

Rebellion filled you, but you were powerless. You wanted to defy him, but you staggered back, the darkness and thorns threatening to devour you. With one last look at the demon you loved, you turned and ran.

The shadow never stopped. It spilled over everything like ink. The thorns billowed and spread. You ran until you gasped for air, until your muscles ached. By the time you reached the edge of the forest, you landed on the grass with a thud, panting desperately for breath. The thorns swarmed between the trees, twisting and tangling with vines. You watched in horror as they finally stilled.

Rising to your feet, you approached the woods, placing your hand on the prickly stalks. There was no place for you to fit through. It was sealed away. Up and down you scurried along the border, looking for a weak spot. Even just a tiny place you could crawl inside.

There was none.

Tears fell down your face. You raked your hands through your hair, pulling the disheveled mess from your eyes, and screamed at the top of your lungs, “I hate you!”

The forest groaned.

You charged forward and pushed at branches, tore at the leaves. You clawed at whatever you could reach, trying to forge a path inside, and all the while you chanted bitterly, “I hate you! I hate you!”

Somewhere in the forest’s midst, Jaebeom crouched on the rough expanse of a branch, seated limply with his head hung low in shame. His wings lay at his side, lifeless and unmoving. The woods had never felt so cold then, so devoid of magic.

Your voice echoed. Those three words were a constant song in his ears, vowing to haunt him till the end of his days.

Not until the moon came to its full height overhead did you accept defeat. Dragging your feet home, you gazed at your bloodied, tattered hands. Wishing to avoid questions, you hurried to the nearest stream to wash yourself.

As you submerged your aching hands into the gentle waters, you heard the faintest of whispers in your ear. Unnerved, you stood sharply, looking around for who had spoken. Then, you cast your eyes down and gasped. Your hands had healed. Only small, faded scars were left in your flesh.

Smiling ever so softly, you turned to the looming forest in the distance. No matter what Jaebeom had said or done, the woods still loved you.

But still you cried yourself to sleep. You cried till you could shed no more tears. Slipping the ring from your finger, the only gift you had ever been given, you clutched it tightly in your fist and cradled your hands to your chest protectively.

For a moment, you had tasted magic and known what it was like to be safe and loved.

And as quickly as it came, it was taken away.

next chapter →

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[timextoxhajima]

Grounded: Level 10 (Final)

Level 9 | Masterlist

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader

Taglist: @jaehyvnsvalentine @licorice526 @lolwhatameme @felixn-recs @yunapixie @rindomo @sleeping-hero-of-procastination

A/N: You will see an article in here that is FAKE I repeat it is FAKE do NOT repost it or else I will come for your throat- 

We have come to the end of yet another fic, though this one has 0 smut and nothing extraordinary, it was a blast writing this regardless. I’ll be back soon lovelies! Love, dana <3

“Hey, hey, hey,” Minho hurriedly follows you into his bedroom, where Hyunjin and Seungmin were busy playing League of Legends together. “The two of you want an invitation to get out?”

“Oh, no, is this about the news-”

Chan’s voice rings from the living room outside. “Seungmin-ah, Hyunjin-ie, give them some space, would you?”

Crashing into Minho’s bed, your face is lucky it’s completely ridden of makeup before you bury your face into his pillow. Hyunjin’s face is strained, and Seungmin, for once, offers Lee Know a gentler pair of eyes that beg to tell him that he’s trying his best to empathise. 

Hyunjin waits by the door frame for Seungmin to step out of the room, then rests his hand on the door handle to pull it shut. 

“You’ll take care of her, won’t you?”

“Is she your girlfriend or mine?”

Hyunjin snickers, standing straight up and pulls the door. “Good.”

The door clicks shut, and you can hear Minho turning on the lock so that none of his younger members could barge in later on. This was going to be a long, arduous conversation. 

“y/n, talk to me. Why are you crying? Are you scared or worried or-”

“All of the above.”

“Do you want JYP and HYBE to call this off? Then we can just let Dispatch do it’s job and find us out like the good ol’ days.”

“No, no, I don’t hate the idea,” Sniffling, you peel yourself off the surface of his bed and sit up, leaning against the wall with your feet by his thighs. He scoots over next to you and leans against the wall as well, head tilted to watch the tears stream down your face. His finger brushes across your cheek, and he gingerly wipes it on his own shirt before wiping off another. 

“I just... I don’t want this so sabotage Stray Kids or WI5HES, y’know? Ju Rin was right... we don’t have a strong fanbase - what if we crumble before we can fly? I’m the second oldest in my group and what am I going to do or how am I going to answer to... like, Gahyun or So Eun or Minjung’s parents when this plan goes to shit?”

“Bang PD-nim did say HYBE and JYP will offer all the help and protection we needed, no?” His voice is quiet and a little sing-song-y as he sits up against the wall, sliding his arm over yours before interlocking his fingers. “And about your younger members, I’m sure Ju Rin knows what to do about them. Besides, this is in conjunction with the South Korean Human Rights Act. It’s political now. Fans can’t just bash us then expect us to go back to before this.”

It feels like your soul’s sunken in on itself - it’s great news, but why does it feel so heavy? Sliding down the wall and your rear digging deeper into the mattress, Minho remains quiet and breathing when you rest your head on his shoulder, and you feel the weight of his head and cheek pressing against the crown of your hair. 

“What if this just goes to shit?” The breathy worry comes out in a mere exhale. Minho’s shoulder rise and fall with his breathing; his thumb comes over yours to stroke your finger joint. 

“Forget about HYBE and JYP and Dispatch for a moment... I’m scared we won’t last.”

His shoulders heave, then shifts under your cheek so he can hold your face in his palms. 

You detect his anxiety first before you can realise what was happening. 

Yet the comfort supercedes your worries in that moment of forever, when Minho shuts his eyes and you follow suit, letting his nose press into your cheek and his lips sweet against yours. 

Your cheeks burn in his palms, though they were already warm before, and your hands are awkwardly clutching the material of his bedsheets by your legs. 

He stops, then pulls away and presses his forehead to yours as his thumbs wipe away the streaks your tears left behind on your cheeks. 

“If you trust me, then trust that I need you as much as you need me, so I promise you, I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Minho presses another kiss into your forehead, hands cupping your cheeks with yours over his knuckles. It felt good - knowing that he’d be by your side through this ordeal. The unnoticeable smirk on his face as he leans in again, the tip of his nose already pressing into your cheek makes you smile, but just as his breath hits your lips-

“LeE KNooOWWOWOWOOOWOWWO hYUNNgggG~”

“Agh-- Felix!” 

“What? I was- I was just trying to lighten the mood-”

“There’s nothing to lighten- get away from the door!”

“But- I just- OW- that’s my finger!”

A gentle laughter breaks through you, fingers curling around the flesh of Minho’s palm to remove them off your face. 

“Eish... And just when I thought I could get another one of those...”

Hyunjin snatches the phone out of Jisung’s hands, eyes scanning the screen. “Wow, I definitely did not see this coming so fast. It feels different when it’s out.”

“Give that back--” 

“So, what now?” Hyunjin rests his hands on his hips, watching Minho pat the lower area of your back as you finish texting Ju Rin. 

“WI5HES is on their way here right now. We’ll be having a joint meeting, them and us. Bang PD-nim and JYP have things to tell us,” Chan pulls off his cap and runs his hands through his hair before he shoves it back on.

“Wait, WI5HES is on the way here now?”

“Wait, WI5HES is on the way here now?”

The dual voices catch the attention of the entire room. Jeongin is staring at Changbin in utter dismay (and confusion). The younger’s hands fly up to point to Changbin, who immediately does the same as well.

“WHO IS IT?”

“WHO IS IT?”

Minho’s eyes widen and laughs like a manic. Now, the confusion is starting to whelm you too. You know about Min Jung and Jeong In, but who is Changbin--

“Awwww noooo,” Chan groans and face palms. Seungmin’s shaking his head in the background and Hyunjin and Felix are leaning on Jisung for support, his uncontrollable laughter completely silent and obviously sucking the life out of him. 

“I- I’m your hyung, so you- you better say yours first!” Changbin messily waves his index finger in Jeong In’s face. The maknae’s cheeks are blushing, and it tickles you to know why. 

“I-I am not dating anybody from WI5HES, that’s for sure-”

“Oh my God,” You lean into Minho’s ear and whisper. “Changbin doesn’t know about Min Jung?”

He grins and shakes his head. “I’m a good hyung, I don’t sell people’s secrets to anybody else, not even if we were in the same group.”

“AhHhHH stop stalling!” Changbin’s anxiety is making you and Minho crack up even more, though you are just waiting for Changbin to reveal who he was interested in. “QUicKLY sAY WHo it is yOu’rE INtERESTEd in!!!”

Jeong In groans in frustration, both his hands burying into his hair. “Ahh...”

Chan’s glaring at the both of them now, slightly exasperated. 

“OKay, okay... I just... I may or may not have a thing for Min Jung, okay? I just- OW!” The slap nearly echoes through the studio. He rubs his arm and stumbles away from Changbin, who looks a mixture of annoyed and relieved. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR-”

“She’s underaged you- you- you stupid!” He sneers and bares his teeth, then his voice gets super low. “But at least it’s not my girl.”

“YAH!” Chan flings his cap directly into Changbin’s face. “It’s your turn, else I will whoop yer ass when they come!”

Changbin fumbles, trying to catch the cap but fails miserably, earning snickers and snorts from the younger members. He freezes awkwardly, with his hands placed atop one another above his abdomen. 

“You better tell us which one it is before Chan hyung whoops you,” Felix lowly warns. Changbin, however, deemed it fit to suddenly bolt for the studio door, hands fumbling messily to get a grip on the handle before the door finally clicks open. 

But he almost runs down the person on the other side of the door, and Changbin jumps in almost-unbelievable surprise with his face reddening all over. Your hands fly to your mouth when you see who Changbin’s absolutely gushing about, and Minho breaks out into the most frantic laughter possible. 

“Oh?” Ju Rin’s eyes widen. “Changbin-sshi! Are you okay?”

[britomart-heart]

Goodness is Going With You, Ch.1

Hi all! First time posting fanfiction on this account, and first time writing in about two years. My target audience for this is approximately one person - ie myself who still likes zombie apocalypse aus, but let me know your thoughts and if you’d like more! Fandom: The Mandalorian Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader ****** You had been walking for days. Your small, ancient, ship had broken down on this back water planet, and even you had to admit there was no fixing it this time. But with the galaxy the way it was now, staying in one place was never an option for long.

It had also been days since you’d seen one of them. The creatures that had brought your world crashing to its knees more than twenty years ago. Just with the mere thought of them, your fingers brushed over your blaster strapped to your hip. The road had been too quiet for your liking, and it usually meant that the creatures had all moved to the same spot for whatever reason. That would make it easier for you to avoid them. It would also make it harder for you to outrun them if you did stumble across them.

You reloaded your blaster.

The virus was almost always deadly, and had taken sixty percent of the population of each system it passed through to prove it, but when a host was unfortunate enough to survive the initial sickness, it left them mindless, violent, and hungry for whatever flesh it came across. The accepted story was that the virus was biochemical warfare invented by the scientists of the Empire, meant to wipe out the last supporters of the Old Republic, but was more successful that they ever imagined. Now all that was left was barren planets controlled by warlords, travel systems overrun by pirates, and abandoned cities crawling with the creatures who prowled the empty streets hungrily.

Come to mention it, you were quite hungry too.

A map you found in a crumbling building had indicated that there was some sort of village north of where your ship had crashed, and you had been trekking across the desert sands in hope of some sort of meal, and maybe even an old piece of junk you could wrangle into flying condition. There was talk of a vaccine in the inner rim. A safe zone. It was an idea you could barely comprehend, but the whisper was enough to make you desperate to try and reach it.

As you began to daydream of what a safe zone might entail, you heard a cry in the distance, followed quickly by the warbled shrieks of the infected. Your stomach flipped, head snapping to attention. Normally such a cry would have you running in the opposite direction, but despite every instinct you had, your feet began moving towards the fray. That was the cry of an infant, of a child. Maker help you, but who would be heartless enough to turn away from that?

The noise seemed to come from impossibly far away, but you managed to find an abandoned moisture farm, and a hoard of infected swarming around the strangest looking kid you’d ever seen. Green ears nearly as wide as it was tall, it was crying out in distress as the creatures surrounded it. You’d never seen them attack like this before.

They surrounded the kid in a circle, and one by one they would try to attack with the usual sweep of their rotting arms. As one would rush in, the kid would raise a shaking three fingered hand, closing its eyes in concentration, and the creature would be flung back as if it was a rag doll. You stared in confusion, but quickly realised the child was slowing down, its eyes drooping lower and lower with each attack. You had your blaster raised without thinking and took down three of the creatures before they even noticed you there.

You slid through the gap you created and picked up the child just as it sleepily raised its arms up to you. Tucking him into the crook of your arm, you began firing shots as well as you could, swinging around, and ignoring the inevitable realisation that there was just too many of them. If you could just get out of their view there was a chance you could run, and you kept jogging backwards, until your back hit a wall.

They’d trapped you in a corner.

“Come on kid, that neat magic trick you pulled earlier would be helpful” you half yelled to the child who was clinging to your side. To his credit, the kid did try to lift his arm again, but the effort seemed to take the last bit of energy he had, and he slumped against you. Your grip was slippery with sweat, and with each beat of your heart, and fire of your blaster you knew it was hopeless. As the hoard closed in, you wiped the sweat from your brow, and the tears from your eyes, raising your blaster up to take out as many of them with you as you could.

You noticed the whistling in the air, before you noticed the tiny speeding bullets blasting into each of the snarling creatures, taking them out one by one. When the wall of them fell, a shining body that seemed solid silver landed in front of you, taking out the remaining monsters as if they were no more than training droids at a shooting range.

You stared in disbelief, clutching the child closer to your side, gaping at the number of infected this stranger had taken out in mere seconds, so stunned that you barely noticed that your saviour had now turned his blaster on you.

“Hand him over.” A deep male voice came through the modulator of the helmet, and he stretched his gloved hand out to you, gesturing towards the sleeping baby in your arms. You held him tighter on instinct.

“Who are you?”

“Listen girl, the only reason you’re still standing is because I saw you protecting him. Hand him to me, and we’ll call it even.”

You’d always been good at reading people, but this was like reading a brick wall. The dark visor hid even the slightest shadow of his eyes, and he stood still as stone, no body language to glean any sort of impression from. He held the blaster, still aimed at you, as if it were simply an extension of his arm.

But there was the slightest edge of desperation to his voice, just the tiniest hint of worry when he reached for the kid, that despite yourself you believed him. You wanted to believe him.

Slowly, you stepped over the corpse of one of the infected littering the ground and handed the kid over to the armoured man.

No, not just a man you realised, slightly later than you probably should have. He was a Mandalorian. You nearly dropped your own blaster, as you realised that an actual Mandalorian had pointed his weapon at you, and you actually had the gall to question him and survived.

He tucked the strange brown robe the baby was wearing tighter around him, with a tenderness that seemed somehow bizarre and charming at the same time.

“Why was he alone?” You asked, and the Mandalorian looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there.

“I was fighting a quarry into my ship, and the kid wandered off. He has a habit of doing that… usually I catch him before he gets into real trouble. After that, hopefully he won’t do it again.” He looks back at you, and somehow you knew he was looking over you from top to bottom. You shiver, and you know it’s not from the evening’s chill.

“I don’t have any credits.” He said, and you looked back in confusion.

“Credits?”

“To thank you. For saving the kid. Not many would have done that.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, anyone would have-“ You begin, but he shakes his head

“No. They wouldn’t have.” He tilts his head almost questioningly at you, and for some unknown reason you blush. Why are you blushing. You saved this guy’s kid, he’s thanking you, this is normal. All of this is normal.

“Well. I’d best be on my way then. Keep that kid out of trouble, he seems… special.” You answer, as diplomatically as you can.

“Yeah, he is.” The Mandalorian answers quietly, and you smile and start walking away. You’re nearly out of earshot, when the same modulated voice calls out again.

“Hey. Can I give you a lift somewhere. I’m not a taxi service but… I’m headed towards Nevarro and I can drop you there, or somewhere on the way.”

“Yes”, You say without thinking and without questioning the relief that threatens to spill over, “Yes, Nevarro would be great, thank you.”

He barely says a word after that, leading you nearby to his ship, and sets up a make shift bed for you on the ground of his rather shaken looking pre-empire Razor Crest. The kid stirs sometime after you enter hyperspace and gives you a toothy grin when he sees you sitting beside his floating crib. He reaches over to you with a tiny, green, wrinkled hand, and wraps it around your pointer finger.

“Hi kid, it’s me again”, you say and give him your name. He stares up at you with his enormous black eyes, and his calm gaze settles you enough that you allow the exhaustion of the past days to finally wash over you.

****

Over the next few days he tells you barely enough to satisfy your curiosity, but enough that your sufficiently intimidated by him. You can call him Mando, he doesn’t know the kid’s name, there’s rations in the hold that you can help yourself to whenever you want. You fill in the gaps you can with your limited knowledge of Mandalorians- that their religion is their armour and weapons, that their planet was lost before the virus destroyed everyone else’s, that the helmet never comes off.

It’s enough that your intrigued by him almost as much as you’re scared of him. His voice alone, warm and low, draws you in, and the affection he clearly has for the strange child that travels with him, is a walking contradiction to the Mandalorian code you heard about in stories and legends as a youngling. It makes you wonder if he travels with the kid out of obligation, or if he once was as lonely as you are, and couldn’t bare it anymore.

You can understand that.

You come out of hyperspace on the third day, and you hear him coming down the ladder into the hold before you feel the jolt of the ship entering Nevarro’s atmosphere. You have the kid on your lap, and were in the process of teaching him one of the few games you remember from your own childhood. He didn’t seem to get the rules, but giggled every time you clapped his hands together, and would try to do the same with yours.

“The kid likes you”. Mando says from behind you, and you smile over your shoulder.

“Well I’m easy to like. So is this little one.” You answer, and the kid gurgles in what sounds like agreement, and throws himself forward into you, stretching his tiny arms as far as he can reach, and laughs into your belly.

Mando walks forward, and gently tugs on one of the kid’s massive ears. You’re not sure if you imagine his fingers brushing over your shoulder when he moves his hand back.

“You’re handy with a blaster.” He says, in a way that feels more like a statement than a question. You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you nod slowly.

“When I need to be.”

“You can handle moving around from place to place? You don’t have anyone waiting for you somewhere?��� He asks, and it’s definitely a question this time. You nod more confidently, and turn around full to look up at him. He’s leaning against a wall, his arm resting confidently on his hip, and he’s literally in full armour, why is that a good look on him. You’re beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you’ve been alone for too long.

“It’s just been me for a long time.”

He nods in a way that makes you think it was the right answer.

“I’m trying to get into the inner rim. There’s some rumours that it’s safer there, and I need to get the kid… he needs to be safe.” He says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. Still can’t trust you with the full truth, but is offering up more than you ever expected. You try not to look too eager.

“I need someone to watch the kid while I collect my bounties on the way. You saw what happens when he’s left alone for too long. And I think you need to get somewhere safe too.”

You barely react, terrified that if you say something now, he’ll retract whatever offer he is about to make, the one you were always on the verge of suggesting yourself but kept losing the nerve to ask.

“I still need to stop in Nevarro. But you can join me when I leave again… if you want. I can pay handsomely, and it’ll be safer than travelling on your own.” He says, and you know he’s waiting for an answer now. You stand slowly, trying to look as if you’re contemplating a response, even though you know your answer immediately. You place the kid in his floating crib and wipe your hands on the front of your trousers.

“It’s a deal.” You answer and stretch one of your hands out in front of you.

There’s a few seconds of complete silence, only the unreadable man in front of you, staring at your outstretched hand, and oh maker have you misread this completely. You’re about to drop your hand, when he reaches out and shakes it with his own and seems to hold it a beat to long before letting go.

“Right, well then strap the kid in, we’ll be pulling into Nevarro shortly.” He answers as gruffly as if the conversation never happened and turns to climb back up into the cockpit. As if you imagined the whole thing.

Only, even though you have absolutely no proof, if someone asked you to bet on what expression he was making under that helmet, you’d have put money on him smiling.

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 13 - Edward Rose

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

WARNINGS: For blood, gore, vomit, disturbing and graphical scenes. This is really a horrific chapter. If you like this stuff, that’s great, if not I promise it will get better :’)

@marydragneell​ - here is the latest update

Edward Rose

…

…

[Ezra’s Notes on Exorcism Tools:

1. The Odd Keystone. A peculiar stone bestowed to me by the diocese. Quintessential in capturing evil spirits that cannot find salvation and are cursed to wander the earth for eternity (I’m surprised they didn’t ask for it back). It is 'activated' by latin exorcism prayers. If the number of contained spirits reach one hundred and eight, a pokemon will form, ie, Spiritomb.

2. The Khira Dagger. This small, hand-held dagger was used in rituals and sacrificial ceremonies, with roots dating back to the 8th century. It has absorbed so much blood that its power transcends any other. It kills spirits, evil or good. Try to refrain from using this unless you’re dealing with a powerful adversary (again, I’m surprised they didn’t ask for it back).]

…

…

The sound of rapid footsteps approaching can be heard echoing along the dark hall and you and Jace both turn to the source only to be greeted with an ashen-faced Cole.

“Help! I need help!” he exclaims, clearly in distress. He comes to a grinding halt before you and puts his hands on his knees with his head low, panting.

“Are you alright?” Jace asks, as Cole struggles to regain his breath.

You give him a moment or so until his face finally returns to its normal colour and he squeezes his eyes shut before he cries out, “Tan is missing!”

You’ve never seen a grown man look so panicky and hysterical before. “Calm down, tell us what happened.”

“He went to the bathroom and several minutes passed, and he didn’t come out so I went in to check in on him and he tried to scare me but then there was this loud noise outside and he left to check. When I went out, he was gone – there’s no way he could’ve just vanished into thin air so quickly like that, you know? And I was calling his name and saw this shadow run past, I followed it-“

As Cole rambles, he becomes increasingly louder.

“But then I heard footsteps behind me and between these two displays, I saw this face-“

“A face?”

Cole nods and Jace throws you an alarmed glance. “I saw it in the pictures we took. It was following us!”

“Show me these pictures,” you say, and Cole switches on his bulky digital camera, fumbling with a few buttons and switching to view mode where he mutters and mumbles under his breath until he finds the designated pictures. “Here.”

You scoop the camera out of his grip and go through the snapshots under Cole’s instruction; you see an array of photos of Tanner taken when they were on their way to leave the gallery via the right wing. There are a couple of so photos of Tanner striking funny poses in the taxidermy section.

Cole does not fail to point out the grinning face in the darkness that he’d noticed appear in numerous photos he had taken of Tanner after capturing Runerigus.

You peer curiously at each of these photos where you see the face that appears in every picture. Whether it’s above Tanner’s shoulder, head, on his left or right, it is always there.

“And you noticed this after you found us in the basement and after Tanner captured Runerigus,” you reaffirm, and he nods again. You hand him the camera wordlessly.

“The damn asshole won’t pick up his phone either,” Cole growls.

“What should we do?” Jace asks.

“Call Horace. Get all the lights switched back on so we can start looking for Tanner.”

“O-okay, I can do that…” Cole utters, before he fishes out the walkie talkie and pushes on the button; it fizzes weakly before it goes silent and he takes this as an indication to speak. “Hello? Horace? Are you there, over?”

He lifts his finger off the button and waits, but there’s no response.

Cole tries again. “Horace? Can you hear me, over. Can you switch all the lights back on, please?”

Still no response.

“…I’ll go find him,” Cole says with a sigh, “I’ll go through the left wing, it’s quicker that way. There’s no use just hanging around here. I’ll keep in contact with you through my walkie.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Cole replies, “You guys gonna stay here?”

“We’re going to investigate a bit more,” you say whilst Jace looks unsure.

“Okay, see you in a bit. Arceus…Tan, you better be okay…”

You watch Cole’s retreating back as he disappears towards the direction of the left wing and it’s just yourself and Jace once more.

“Where do you think Tanner is?” Jace asks.

“He could be hiding somewhere.”

“Yeah, he must’ve seen the ghost and bolted for it!”

“Possibly,” you mutter, before you unzip your bag and rifle through, picking up the Odd Keystone you had received from Leon earlier.

How is this going to work, you think to yourself, as you return the Odd Keystone safely back inside; you opt for a small and dirty gold dagger with a thin blade the length of your hand that is engraved all over with strange symbols. You carefully place it into your inner jacket pocket to conceal it but Jace sees it anyway.

“A knife!?”

“No, a khira dagger,” you say quickly, revealing the small blade, “It doesn’t hurt humans, only spirits. Watch.”

You proceed to stab the blade into your awaiting palm but nothing happens, the sharp blade doesn’t penetrate your flesh and skin at all even when you bring the blade down again and again and Jace gawks in bewilderment as you lift your intact hand, wiggling your fingers.

“See?” you say, “I don’t really want to use it, but I’m concerned. If Graves found out about this though, he’d confiscate it so don’t tell anyone.”

Jace chuckles. “Your secret’s safe with me!”

“Thanks, Jace-“

You are both briefly stopped in your actions when you hear the distinct sounds of clanging metal above your heads which makes you look up.

The noise continues, identical to someone with a rod and banging on metal, and you shine the torch at the ceiling. It’s coming from the ventilation and the noises are heading towards the direction of the left wing.

“…Do you think Cole made it out okay?” Jace asks, and you purse your lips.

“I’ll go check,” you say, “Jace, stay here.”

“No way! I’m coming with you.”

“…Alright fine, let’s go,” and you both begin to follow the sounds which are heading towards the direction of the left wing where up ahead, you hear a loud cry of pain.

Hastening your pace, you and Jace rush to the scene as quickly as your feet can carry you until you see Cole a short distance away. He is lying on the floor, though he is not alone for a figure can be seen squatting over his body, emitting guttural and choked croaks and grunts.

You and Jace go to a skidding halt on your heels, shining the torch on the figure who whips round with a feral hiss.

It’s Tanner, yet his eyes are wild and crazed, with lips pulled backwards so tightly they appear to reach his ears. His teeth are clenched together into a grisly and never-ending, distorted grin of malice, his nostrils and mouth drenched with blood. Hot tears stream profusely down from the corners of his eyes and over his cheeks, mingling together with the blood.

“H…help muh…” he manages to grunt out, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second.

Rising to stand, his body jerks and twitches fiercely. He takes a step forwards, then immediately doubles over, groaning and heaving before he proceeds to vomit, large splashes staining the pristine floor before he begins plodding towards your direction with his arms stretched out, fingers bent into claws.

You’re seized by Jace before you can react; he mutters a string of obscenities whilst the possessed man rampages after you, shrieking and screaming unintelligibly.

“This way!” Jace yells, as he drags you down the hall.

Your heartbeat begins speeding up as Tanner’s hysterical, gnarled screams of agony assaults your ears, along with the violent thudding sounds of hands and feet meeting the floor. Too disturbed to look over your shoulders, Jace reaches for Joltik’s capsule and releases his pokemon.

“Joltik, use Electroweb!!” Jace commands, and the little yellow bug glows brightly before shooting a large spiderweb filled with crackling electricity towards Tanner’s direction.

You throw a quick glance to see the web ensnaring the man but it does little to stop him. He has made no effort to evade and drops to the ground as the web tangles him up and he begins crawling whilst snarling and gnashing his teeth ferociously, dragging himself towards you, reaching with outstretched arms.

“Good job, Joltik,” Jace says, as the little bug trills in response.

You run aimlessly through the gallery, listening to the horrendous noises which are still growing closer and closer until Jace suddenly lets out a yelp. You turn briefly to see he’s been grabbed; you cannot believe your eyes - Tanner has rid himself of the electroweb and he has caught up so quickly – and Jace is promptly tossed high in the air with Joltik stuck to his shoulder and you watch helplessly as he slams against the wall of one of the taxidermy displays and drops to the ground, unconscious.

“Jace!”

As Tanner proceeds to lunge at you, he’s quickly fended off by a dark beam of energy.

Gengar floats in the air, grinning wickedly before he glances at you and nods; he’s got your back.

The possessed Tanner rolls upright, hisses and scrabbles away, disappearing into the darkness.

Your legs tremble as you scan the surrounding area with your torch but he has vanished; all that is left of him is a bloodied trail which vanishes in one corner.

A loud clunk from above grabs your attention and you shine the torch to the source to see that the iron vent on the ceiling has been pried open.

Gengar returns to your side and you exhale shakily.

“…Thanks Gengar, can you check up on Jace and Joltik, please?”

Fumbling for Mimikyu’s capsule, you release her and she looks up at you expectantly.

“Mimi, can you check up on Cole, please? And please return to the entrance and ask Horace to turn on all the lights.”

“Leave it to…mi.” Mimikyu says, imitating a salute motion with one shadowy tendril from its mouth.

You smile at your pokemon; though they are rather reluctant to leave your side, you confirm your instruction with a firm nod.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing. Meet me in the basement once you’re done.”

Gengar and Mimikyu acknowledges your commands and everyone parts way; Gengar floats away to where Jace and Joltik were tossed, Mimikyu heads for the direction of the left wing whilst you make your way towards the door that will lead to the basement.

You’re going to destroy the damn thing.

Along the way, you check for any airducts and vent shafts and you remain on high alert for any strange noises and signs of Tanner, using your torch to sweep the area before proceeding.

The path is clear and the basement door lies ahead and when you shine the torch on the ceiling to the air duct nearby, you see it is closed.

Without further hesitation, you head over until a brutal force from behind rams into your back and you’re shoved away from the door and to the wall, your head smacks hard against the concrete and you drop to the floor, your torch clattering out of your hand. Your mind reels as your vision slowly grows black and your eyes slide to a close.

Drifting between consciousness, a wet and cold grip seizes your ankle and you’re slowly pulled out of your spot.

You slump over the uninviting floor and as you groan and mumble and mutter, the grip tugs on your ankle again.

You slide forwards and stop briefly.

Then you slide again.

And stop.

You’re being dragged.

Groaning, you muster the strength to open your eyes and stare groggily at the ceiling above you before you lift a hand to the side of your head and press your fingertips over your skin. You are bleeding.

You see Tanner with his back to you and his hand curled around your ankle which is lifted in the air, pulling you towards the direction of the basement. You struggle but you’re wracked with pain, your head throbbing.

Your eyes slide to a close…

…and you wake up by a searing hot stab of pain and you begin screaming uncontrollably, your eyes darting around your surroundings.

It’s the room with the fans and the easel and the accursed canvas and the sounds of flesh squelching and blood gurgling forces you to whip your head to the side where you see Tanner bent over you, biting down ravenously on the flesh of your forearm. As you scream and flail, he looks up, his crazed and possessed eyes meeting yours.

With a mouthful of blood, he slowly shuffles up and away from you, and you gape as he drags himself to stand limply in front of the easel with his shoulders slumped.

The incomplete painting awaits; he regards it for a moment before he begins to dab his fingers into his bloodied mouth and slaps his fingers and palms onto the canvas, smearing your blood over the surface.

You stare at the scene in horror and shock, your eyes widening as he begins to paint.

Slowly, you begin to inch yourself away towards the direction of the closed door as quietly as possible so not to alert the possessed man. Gengar and Mimikyu haven’t come to find you, so you doubt you’ve been unconscious for long. As you drag yourself across the floor, your arm is a bloom of red, brimming with pain and discomfort and bleeding abundantly from where he’s bitten into you.

He stops, having run out of blood and turns round, his crazed eyes pinned on your helpless form on the ground and you inch backwards as fast as you can, struggling away on your elbows.

“Edward Rose, I know it’s you,” you hiss. Lifting yourself off the floor to stand, you cradle your bleeding arm, panting heavily, “You want to finish your painting, right?”

“….Need more blood…not enough blood…” Tanner utters but it’s not his voice, it’s deep and darker.

Without a second to spare, he lunges at you but you reveal the small dagger that you’ve managed to keep safe and thrust the sharpened tip towards his chest but one huge fist grabs your arm and the other seizes your throat and proceeds to squeeze down on your windpipe. You grunt as he slams you against the wall and lifts you high into the air.

You struggle violently as his hand closes around your neck and wrist firmly; with your remaining hand, you clench your fist tightly and begin beating against his shoulder.

Struggling for breath, Tanner’s manic gaze meets yours; his distorted grin is incessant, his pupils are dilated as he hisses and rasps unintelligibly, your ears ringing with discomfort from the grating noise.

You shake and flail as much as you can, your ravaged arm sweltering with pain.

The pressure on your neck increases, the howling grows more and more deafening, your mind grows dark and dreary, your clenched hand on his coat is growing loose.

This must be it, you think to yourself, and you wonder how sad it is that this is how you will meet your end because you didn't think this would how it would end until Tanner abruptly jerks backwards and you are freed from his clutches. You drop to the ground, coughing and choking and gasping for precious air.

You didn’t hear the door open.

Glancing up, you see it is none other than Leon holding the man back. Charizard is by his side, too.

“Leon!!” you cry breathlessly with widened eyes, “Charizard!”

“Are you okay?!” he exclaims, and you force a nod. “Arceus, what’s wrong with him? Has he gone mad?”

“No, he’s just possessed,” is your reply.

As Leon holds Tanner back, having successfully wrenched the possessed man off you, Charizard waddles to your side to inspect you.

However, there’s no time to waste. As Charizard helps you off the ground, you grab your dagger with renewed grip and lunge forwards as Tanner fights and resists Leon thoroughly, screaming and flailing viciously in his hold. You quickly swing your arm forwards with the dagger and Leon’s eyes widens at your action.

He’s never seen you like this. You must look deranged, you think; your eyes must rival the possessed Tanner – wild, manic and desperate. You’re completely soaked in blood, your teeth clenched together firmly as adrenaline pumps furiously through your veins.

But you want to finish this.

An estranged cry of distress erupts from Tanner’s throat.

“Stop!”

And you pause, the tip of the dagger an inch from his chest.

“Please….no….” he croaks out, his voice strained and heavy and belonging to none other than Edward Rose, “H…he….help me…I want to…finish the painting…”

Leon is baffled by the entirety of it all but you cannot spare the time to explain; he looks at you incredulously as you stare at the sobbing man in his grip with widened eyes. Your shaking arm slowly lowers, the dagger returning to your side.

“….Please…please…” he begs, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears leak uncontrollably from the corners of his clenched eyes. A mixture of Tanner’s and Edward Rose. “It is almost…finished…just a few strokes…please...”

An unsettling silence fills the room as Leon throws you another alarmed glance, then at the man in his grip.

“What is it?” you ask, panting heavily and sucking in noisy breaths, pointing a shaking finger to the painting. Your heart beats furiously, your knees trembling. “What is that meant to be?”

“A map…I hid something…a treasure…”

As Tanner continues to sob, you step backwards as you sweep your hand through your messy hair in disbelief. Leon waits for your response as you pace the floor momentarily before you nod weakly.

“…Fine,” you reply, “But you have to vacate this body at once…I’ll allow you to use mine instead.”

“What?” Leon exclaims.

“It’s okay, Leon. Trust me.”

Whilst the Champion gawks at you, Tanner nods, grateful.

“Oh…thank…you…”

Clearly confused by this entire ordeal, Leon cannot help but watch; you’re relieved he doesn’t attempt to step in, nor does he waste time by questioning everything that’s happening.

Tanner emits another anguished moan and as he convulses violently under Leon’s hold, a murky, dark mist expels from his body, rising from his shoulders and chest in tangled wisps.

He croaks with pain and Leon eventually releases him as the man continues choking and grunting excruciatingly. His throat rattling loudly, Tanner dips to the side with his arms taut and retches, mouth stretching wide open to violently regurgitate another mixture of vomit, blood and a strange, yellowish-white substance that resembles phlegm.

Then he drops to the ground, eyes closed. He is out cold.

“…Ectoplasm,” you mutter, as Leon stares with widened eyes and Charizard snorts loudly with disgust. “Think of it like….ghost residue.”

Despite your explanation, Leon and Charizard look incredibly baffled as you drag yourself to stand properly, hopping on one leg and throwing a glance to the unconscious Tanner before you glance at the awaiting shadow that hovers in mid-air before you.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell the Champion as the shadow slinks forwards.

“Wait!” Leon yells, but the shadow proceeds to envelope you.

He watches as you sway on the spot with your eyes closed before he murmurs your name anxiously.

Your eyes re-open slowly a few seconds later although your gaze, now empty and not belonging to you, sweeps past Leon. You hardly bat an eyelid to his presence and proceed to plod towards the direction of the easel, staring lopsidedly at the canvas before you throw your glance to your bleeding arm. You start to sink your fingers into your torn flesh and once they’re soaked, you begin to apply your bloodied fingertips over the canvas.

Leon calls your name again but you don’t respond.

He observes you painting for a few minutes, your eyes empty as you drag your fingers over the board in a hypnotic but expert fashion.

The stench of blood is strong in the air, the metallic, coppery smell assaulting his nose and Leon grows concerned as continuous drops of blood stain the ground from the tips of your twitching fingers. Charizard growls lightly to elicit some form of response from you but there’s not much the pokemon can do.

When you’re finished, the painting has taken form and has become clearly distinguishable to resemble a monument which Leon is quite certain he has seen somewhere in Rose’s manor.

With the painting completed, Leon watches you carefully. The atmosphere in the room is tense, as he waits for your next move; however, he was not expecting your body to abruptly jerk violently and he takes a cautious step forwards, reaching for you as you shudder on the spot, eyes twitching.

You throw your arm out, halting him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Mustering a minute shake of your head, your eyes squeeze shut and you emit a low groan.

"What is it?" he tries again.

You merely groan.

Leon says your name and what he perhaps feared finally happens: your face contorts, your expression turning dark.

“He won’t leave. Shut up, you fell for it and willingly let me in, swine, and now you shall suffer; they shall all suffer. Arceus, I should’ve known-”

Erupting into boisterous, mocking laughter, you suddenly throw your head back and howl until tears form in your eyes; you drop to your knees with your arms out, facing the ceiling, chin raised in the air, before you wildly scrub your face with your bleeding wound, smothering the dank liquid over your eyes, nose, lips furiously.

"Stop!" Leon yells in response to the macabre display, calling your name again.

You whip your head to him sharply, your chilling eyes wide and glinting under the dim light.

“Do not call me that! Get away from me, Leon – My name is Edward Rose! Leon, get away from me, now!"

“I won’t,” he says sternly, shaking his head.

"This body is mine!" you scream next, before you bite down on your arm, hard, and draw more blood.

Leon abruptly tackles you to the ground, apologising profusely for his manhandling of you despite your aggressive attempts to throw him off; he successfully pulls your arm free from your mouth and you begin convulsing helplessly, eyes rolled to the back of your head, mumbling and muttering incoherently. Your head bends to one side, your shoulders hunching up and arms going stiff, fingers twisting into curled claws before your back arches off the ground and you begin to grunt with pain.

"Leon-"

“I’m still here. I won’t leave you, I can’t-”

“Futile! I'll tear you apart!”

And you yelp and yell, your clinched fingers creeping into the sides of your head and hair. A few strands are torn cleanly from your head from your maniacal clawing, your fingernails desperately raking over your cheeks and temples.

In response to your distress, Leon grabs your wrists and pins you to the floor before you can hurt yourself further.

“Focus on my voice,” he says, remaining as calm as possible, “Please.”

Your eyes clench shut firmly and hot tears stream down your face. Leon continues, asking you to focus on his voice, on him, on yourself, that you're still there and in control and after an ear-splitting shriek, a black shadow is forcibly expelled from your body and shoots into the atmosphere and your body grows weak under Leon’s grip.

Leon moves to wrap his arm around you as your weary body lies limply in his hold, your head rolling to the crook of his elbow as you pant uncontrollably. Leon and Charizard exchange quick glimpses to each other before he carefully shakes you.

Your eyes gradually flutter open and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“....Leon?” you whimper.

He blinks slowly before he responds with a relieved and reassuring, kind smile which thoroughly warms your heart.

“…Hey,” he says gently, before he finds your bloodied hand and holds it tightly, “you’re back. You did it.”

You scan his features briefly before you return his smile with a thin and weak one of your own. You find you have become incredibly languid and drained and tears begin forming in the corner of your eyes once more and your lip trembles.

"Oh god...I'm so sorry. Did I frighten you?"

"It's okay."

You emit a meek sniff and Leon squeezes your hand tightly.

Having successfully expelled Edward Rose from your body, you cannot afford to let precious time go to waste; the shadow bobs up and down in the air listlessly, seemingly stunned from your forceful expulsion and so you indicate to Leon that there is no time to dither and you must get up. He helps, wrapping an arm around your shoulder whilst clutching your hand tightly though your hands occasionally slip due to the blood on your palms.

With Leon’s help, you lean on him as he keeps you hoisted whilst you hastily grasp the Odd Keystone from your bag which you proceed to hold up.

“Adjure te, spiritus nequissime, per Deum omnipotentem,” you croak, your throat burning.

Despite the weakness of your voice, the keystone is activated and the shadow, having realised its incoming demise, rapidly attempts to escape by flitting across the room, darting to and fro but the brilliant light encompasses it and the Odd Keystone, with a power that surpasses like any other, continues to reel and drag it in. Screeching and convulsing viciously, the shadow stretches and morphs aggressively as it is dragged inside.

Edward Rose's agonising howls and screeches bathe the room and stings your ears until the Keystone sucks him inside, the fissure glowing brightly as it claims another evil soul for itself. The room grows dark and not a sound can be heard.

You’re aware it’s far from over; Ezra’s words echo in your mind and the keystone begins to glimmer and tremble violently in your grip; heat spreads across the base of your palm, something which the stone has not done before and you have no choice but to drop it.

It does not hit the ground; instead, it zooms back into the air, hovering before you and Leon whilst shining brightly.

“What’s going on?” Leon asks.

“It’s the creation of a Spiritomb,” you reply; the stone begins rapidly spinning in an anti-clockwise fashion in the air, the fissure of the keystone resembling a blur yet it continues to glow brilliantly under the dimness of the room. As the stone whirls, the stillness of the room is penetrated by a thunderous sound.

A purple miasma unravels from the center of the spinning stone as the glowing light fades away and you and Leon watch in silence as the stone spins faster and the strange purple cloud grows larger and larger before the stone comes to an abrupt stop and the creature that has formed finally manifests before you.

It’s Spiritomb, and the stone slowly returns to wobble on the ground; ragged green lines and specks form on its body, its expression contorting into a sinister sneer before unleashing a powerful shockwave that takes everyone off guard.

Leon’s instinct is to protect you, so you find him throwing himself in front of you in a split second, shielding you with his body.

A bright light encompasses the entire room and you’re forced to shield your eyes; when you re-open them, Spiritomb is nowhere to be seen.

Unable to muster the energy to chase after it, you slump against Leon’s chest, your body growing light again. He mutters your name and slowly uses a hand to sweep some of your hair from the frames of your face and tuck it neatly behind your ears before he slides his hand over yours once again. There are ugly bruises on your neck. You are still bleeding from your head and arm.

Though you have the strength to squeeze his hand, he helps prop you up against the wall where you sigh and groan under your breath with agony and exhaustion.

There must be a way to stop the bleeding and his t-shirt seems to be a good way to do so he tears several inches of the hem off and uses it to wrap your tarnished arm, looping it around and around your wound.

“Leon, don’t,” you croak; you receive a sneaky and quick peek of his abs but only just for a second or so, “Your champion shirt…don’t ruin it…”

He merely grins at you reassuringly. “Don’t worry.”

You really do not want Leon to see you like this.

This is the side of your work which you didn’t want him to see.

The ugly side, the dark side.

As Leon finishes tying his shirt around your wound, there is a gentle tug on your arm and you see Gengar; he stands to your left whilst Mimikyu perches herself in your lap. You smile at them weakly as Gengar glances at you worriedly and Mimikyu, rather reluctantly and awkwardly, releases a tendril to pat you on the head.

“Mi mi?” she asks, before she slides her gaze to your bandaged arm, the bruises on your neck and your injuries.

“I’m okay…” you murmur as your eyelids flutter to a close.

With a shuddering exhale, you slowly turn your head to the side, your eyes closing as your breathing grows shallow.

As Leon reaches for you, you are far too fatigued to move anymore; he brushes some loose strands of hair from your face and uses his thumb to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. The warmth from his hand on your cheek is comforting and you sigh again.

“Leon…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m tired…”

Retreating from the side of your cheek, he scoops your hand with his and holds you tightly. Your hand is limp in his hold as he sweeps his thumb over your cold knuckles.

“I’ll get you outta here,” you hear him murmur.

You nod wearily.

Removing his cloak, Leon carefully wraps it around your body despite your protests. He tucks it around you and pulls at the collar to ensure you're warm and covered and once you're completely bundled up, he effortlessly picks you up and off the ground, easing you into his arms. He slides one arm underneath the bend of your knees and the other around the small of your back, ensuring you’re comfortable before he rises to stand.

With you safely in his arms, Leon carries you out of the basement as the lights go on one by one.

…

Rose enters the basement, assessing the damage.

Whilst Leon, the pokemon researcher, her assistant and the Ghostbunkers team have been escorted to hospital, Rose slips into his gallery before the night is over. He calls his cleaning staff to make haste and tidy up the mess they made.

He glances at the completed painting and smiles. Oleana stands behind him with a large black case which she proceeds to open.

“What does this look like to you, Oleana?” he asks.

“It looks like one of the dormers of Rose Manor, perhaps the drawing room. East wing.” Oleana replies stoically.

“My thoughts exactly. And that’s where Edward Rose hid it,” Rose replies. “We couldn’t have done it without her.”

“Agreed, sir,” is Oleana’s remark.

Rose lifts the canvas off the easel and deposits it carefully into the case, closing the lid shut.

Then they leave the basement silently.

…

[setoslut]

Ah not dexter. Let me start over 💦 I was wondering if I could have a request of 3 yugioh cast ( you can choose any character you like ) that has a kind S/O who is a ghoul and they found them out by seeing them save them in action or feast? ( I’m sorry I just don’t any ghoul reader in yugioh so I wanted to ask them in requests) I also loved the show.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~Sorry for the super long wait- I’ll have the others out as soon as I can and I’ll be sure to notify you!! •~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Characters: Serenity, Gender Neautral! Ghoul! Reader

Time Period: Battle city ish

Warnings: Ghoul! Au, ig near death?? But not really

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Serenity:

Okay so you know in battle city where Serenity gets her bandages taken off?

Yeah? Good because that’s where it’s semi based

Okay so it’s late at night, as in, hardly any ones out and it’s pitch black

Serenity was home alone and was getting worried because joey wasn’t home yet, the natural brother-sister yugioh relationship style

So Serenity decided to go look for him because she couldn’t sit still whilst he could be in trouble

So it’s dark, it’s a bit muggy and it’s raining just a little bit

And because Serenity hasn’t long had her bandages off (this is the same day) she’s still adjusting to being able to see properly and clearly again

So she’s waiting at the cross lights and it turns green for her to walk, but because it was muggy she couldn’t see the head lights speeding towards her

Turning her head at the squeaking of the wheels Serenity’s eyes widen and memories of her and joey when they were younger, and Serenity and her S/O walking along the beach and messing around at home, came flashing before her eyes

Then she was hit and died

Jk jk this ain’t angst-

..

Unless 👀

Jk jk

Before Serenity was hit a blur came shooting across the road and knocked Serenity out of the way and Into a small and unnoticeable alleyway, away from potential prying eyes

You were out looking for a something small to eat, something that wouldn’t make you feel guilty for eating, ie bullies. Eating other ghouls made you a little guilty, unless they were killing innocence then you didn’t feel anything but rage

Opening her eyes Serenity see’s s figure hunched over her with spider like legs out of the persons back and black and red eyes staring into her soul

With a scream she pulls her self away and cries “Joey! Joey help me! Y/N!”

Ofc you’re shocked that she didn’t realise it was you, before you realised how you looked

“Serenity! Serenity please calm down it’s me! Y/N! I swear it! I’d never hurt you!” Desperation clear in your voice, Serenity stops screaming and lets her eyes adjust to your appearance

“Y-Y/N?” The shakiness and insecurity in her voice almost splits you in two but you managed to keep a hold of your self

“Yes Serenity it’s me.”

“W-why do you look like.. like.. like that? Are you okay? Are you h-hurt?”

Hearing the curiosity in her silky voice instead of fear brought tears to your eyes but you blinked them away quickly before she saw

With a small voice you try to explain

“Im not hurt, I’m a ghoul Serenity,”

“A ghoul? Like a ghost, or a spirit?”

“No.. we uHm, we feed on h..ma.. e..sh” with a shamed full voice you try to spit the words out

“On what Y/N? I promise I’ll always love you no matter what, and that’s a promise!”

Hearing her saw that made a crystal tear fall form your eye and slide down your flush cheeks to meet the floor beneath

With a gasp Serenity scurried forward and rubbed your tears away

“Tell me Y/N.. what is it that you feed on?”

“Human Flesh”

You could see the clogs turning in her head and she stated In confusion and with a gleam of uncertainty in her eyes

“Human.. flesh?”

Pulling away from her hold your eyes downcast and look off to the side

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner I just.. fell so in love with you and I didn’t want to loose you..” shooting your heard up abruptly, you speak with panic “ I swear that I don’t kill innocence! I don’t really have a choice as I can only feed on humans or other ghouls! I swear I only eat and people like like like bullies! Or or or murders and or and or uHm-“

You get cut off when a pair of lips kiss the corner of your mouth

Realising what happened you flushed pink

“It’s okay Y/N, you were doing what you had to, to survive, I don’t blame you for that, as long as you don’t attack innocence I’m okay with it,,, I’ll admit I’m still a bit reluctant with you.. killing.. but if it’s what you have to do to survive and for me to hold you in my arms then so be it”

The determination in her eyes brought more tears cascading down your cheeks, all of which were quickly brushed away by Serenity

“Oh Serenity,” you mumble pull her into a hug “ I really don’t deserve you.”

“No,” she pulls away to look into your faded red and black eyes, “you deserve much more”

Before she leans in and kisses you tenderly as the drizzle of rain started to lighten

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

[egopocalypse]

Kingdom Come (Part Fourteen)

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? ;) If you’ve forgot what’s happened in this nightmare of a fic, here’s the link to catch up.

He’s choking. 

Henrik’s grip tightens around his throat, closing off his airway as he’s lifted in the air. His feet scrape against the stone floor, kicking out at the doctor’s knees and ankles, and red gloves curl around fingers and wrists, failing to pull him free. 

Cruel green eyes glint with glee as they stare into his own, and a chill runs down his back. Those eyes should never hold that dreadful green- should never hold that amount of malice- and he can’t breathe. He can’t escape. He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying-

“-ie, wake up!”

He snaps up to a sitting position, his back ramrod straight as he gasps for breath. His eyes dart wildly around him, aimlessly searching for a hidden shadow. 

He jumps as a hand clamps down on his shoulder and grabs their elbow and upper arm before he twists it and throws his attacker over him. They land with a grunt, and right when he’s about to launch his next punch-

“Jackie!” A familiar voice calls. “Jackie, it’s me! Marvin! I’m not trying to hurt you!” 

“Marvin?” He relaxes and stands up, offering to pull Marvin to his feet. The dewy grass crinkles under his feet, and he rubs his neck, looking around the forest clearing they found themselves in. “Where are we?”

“We’re safe. For now, at least.” Marvin grunts, kicking aside a stone. “If he’s not actively looking for us, we should be out of Anti’s reach.”

Jackie raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean, should be?” He asks, his tone curious yet a little suspicious. “And where are the others? Henrik is always fussing over me after a fight like that.”

Marvin ducks his head and his hand flexes, a nervous habit the hero could spot from a mile away. Jackie’s stomach drops, unease filtering through his heart. “They are here, right?” 

“No,” he mutters. “No they’re not.”

“Well then, are they-?” Jackie stops, his face paling as he steps back. “No. No, you didn’t- you couldn’t have-”

Marvin winces. He figured it out. “I had no other choice.”

“You had no other choice?” Jackie clenches his fists, red rising to his cheeks. “Of course you had a choice! You always have a choice!” He marches up to Marvin, pushing him back with one finger. “You left them there, in his hands! You left Henrik-!”

“Henrik’s dead, Jackie!” He explodes, knocking the air out of his brother’s lungs. “And I’m not the one to blame for that!” 

Silence falls.

Jackie’s frozen, unable to move as ice creeps through his veins. Is it true? Did he really-

He falls to his knees, a sob ripping from his throat. His eyes lock onto his hands, watching them tremble as he recalls Henrik’s face as he choked him. Had he been aware of what was happening while he was trapped inside his own head? Had he been fighting back against Anti’s control?

He’ll never know.

Marvin curses, kicking a stone out to the woods. This isn’t how he wanted Jackie to find out. He never should’ve said anything. He just- fuck, he just wanted Jackie to stop questioning him. He had to know Marvin was doing what was best for everyone, right?

It was better that Marvin got the two of them out rather than risk them all getting captured. At least now, while they were out of Anti’s hands, they could figure out a way to save Chase. 

Getting him out is all that matters. The others are a lost cause.

He sighs, running a hand through long, loose locks. He knows it’s hard, but he needs Jackie to get over it quickly. They weren’t going to help anyone if they sat around grieving the whole time. 

He sits down next to the hero and pulls him into a side-hug, rocking his sobbing brother back and forth. He hums a soft tune and waits for the tears to stop, wincing as Jackie starts to slump against him. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s not right, and it’s not your fault it happened. Anti is a sick son of a bitch, and he could’ve chosen anyone to fight you, but he chose Henrik because he knew it would hurt you the most.” 

He pushes down Jackie’s hood and starts playing with his hair, brushing the damp strands away from his face. “I know you would’ve wanted me to save JJ, but I didn’t have time. My magic could barely hold you up as it was, let alone both of you, and you couldn’t-” He pauses and closes his eyes. “You couldn’t see what was done to him.”

“What did he do?” Jackie croaks, slinging an arm underneath Marvin’s shoulders.

“The red strings were physical- merely a representation of the ones that lie underneath.” He mutters, wincing at the image his magic provided. “There’s thousands of them, clinging under skin to bones, wrapped around flesh and muscle, and reaching into his brain, snaking through the folds of his memory and control.” A deep shudder wracks down his spine. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“There’s no way-” Jackie breaks out from Marvin’s grasp, bloodshot eyes trying to meet Marvin’s. “He’s only been gone for a week! How could Anti have done that to him?”

“That’s the thing.” Marvin’s voice is dead, his words leaving in a monotone drawl. “I don’t think this was a kidnapping.”

Marvin turns to face him, and Jackie’s stomach sinks as he meets his tired, despondent gaze.

“I think it was a puppet returning to his master’s control.”

@eternallyanxiousandstressed @kyerrio @gray-avidan @dabthesinaway @sylver-striings @awkward-bullshit @stranded-in-orbit @ocelot-109 @lostinegomayhem @aeskellic @here-be-beckany @way-ward-soul @acuaticamber06 @weirdmixofweirdness @southerndragontamer @twitchyglitchy @cyanacity @darcywillfindyou @gemini-the-kitsune-rp @everyoneprotector @c0re0psis @kangaroo-roux @atomicsepticeye @nebula-starlight @illyriashade56 @just-mythyk @watermelonsinmyattic @lottes-art @flyying-grayson @magicannagram @hotcocoachia @i-am-a-losercorn @wiibles @kimolothecatt @the-ruler-of-rabbits @fuckin-circles @sophiness @friendlyphantom @mihaela-tbg @melasong @rataccoonn @epicseptic @quotesnerd @turtleinthewindow @jadetyle @this-was-her @normallyaspen @writerwithdepression @spicydanhowell @probablefutures @septic-fallen @epicfangirl01 @phoenix-wint3r @fruitycasket @glitchdemonslight @theprincesssiniqua @chey-doodles @mcseptictheory @sipteceye @g-rexthedino @acuaticamber06 @erika-bear @goldenangelbloodcastiel @apersonwholikesdragons @anqshusxx @averyancora @abouttobesilenced @chaoticnico @cest-mellow @help-trashbin @epicfangirl01 @sarinoxious @bunchofdoodlesinspace @abyssshifter @eridangan @jaysflight @skyewardlight @wildhorsewolf @stuck-in-a-l-o-o-p @kairomancerr @kitnkas @gray-avidan @dorito-with-no-weakness @glixbitch @novelistgeek @worm-does-shit @mad-men-inc @honestlyitsjustkenna @megasepticfan @immabethehero @miishae @darkiplurrr @humblecacti @beerecordings @taikeero-lecoredier @fear-is-nameless @dumbthinmint @lildevyl @anotheregofanficblog @caori-azarath @viostormcaller @takethepainawaybae

[justapotatonow]

Sunshine boy ch.3

Summary: Lucas and Y/n have been best friends for a long time, so what will happen when there's trouble in paradise and a new person enters their lives

Masterlist

You woke up still feeling tired because of the sleepless night Jungwoo caused you. You wondered how it hasn't come up in the conversation that he's a literal millionaire. You got dressed, ate breakfast with Kevin and headed out. Lucas usually picks you up and you drive to school together, but you weren't in the mood today, so you told him to go to school without you.

The first few classes went by unusually fast, and before you knew it, it was time for lunch. You grabbed your wallet and went to grab something to eat from the cafeteria. As you were standing in line someone tapped you on your shoulder. You turned around and saw Jungwoo scolding a handsome brunette.

"Oh hi Jungwoo" you smiled brightly at him.

"Hey" he laughed sheepishly.

"Thanks for inviting me to hang out with you and your friends, I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too" he smiled, and your heart, beat just a little bit faster.

You bought yourself some crisps and a smoothie, "I'll see you later then"

"See you later Y/n"

This time you avoided Lucas' table and rushed to where Kevin was sitting. "Hey, guys, what's up?

"Oh nothing," your friend Minho smirked "just watching you flirt with that dude over there," he said pointing at Jungwoo.

"He's her new boyfriend"

"kEVIN, no he's not my boyfriend"

"But you want him to be" added your friend Mingyu.

You just started eating your crisps as the boys kept teasing you about your "boyfriend".

"So who is this 'boyfriend' you're talking about?" you heard a familiar voice so you looked up from the bag of crisps. "It's no one Lucas. Chill"

"Alright then. You wanna hang out later? The guys and I wanted to check out the new place downtown."

"Sorry I have plans already. Maybe next time." you said smiling sweetly at him. He rolled his eyes and walked back to his table where his girlfriend was already draping herself over him.

"What was that? You could cut the tension with a knife" Minho asked.

"Its nothing honestly, he stood me up yesterday and blah blah its a long story," you said as you looked at your phone "that Kevin can tell you because I have 3 minutes until my next class starts." you said swiftly packing up your belongings and rushing to your next class. "Bye guys love you" you shouted out as a goodbye.

Finally, it was your last class. It was only 20 more minutes until you could see Jungwoo again. Okay, you admit maybe you were crushing on him a little bit. But you didn't really know the guy so who knows maybe he's some weirdo who steals women's shoes. Or maybe he exclusively eats cereal in his bathtub. You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you didn't realise that the class already ended, until someone snapped their fingers in front of your face. You looked up and it was the handsome brunette Jungwoo was shouting at earlier.

"Do you not want to hang out with us that badly that you'd rather stay in an empty classroom?"

"Wha-oH shit I'm late fuck," you hurriedly packed your stuff while mumbling profanities under your breath. When you were ready to go, you realised that the guy was still there.

"Are you Jaehyun by any chance?"

"In the flesh, honey."

"I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you Jaehyun"

"Nice to meet you too Y/n, should we get going? The guys are waiting for us at the front entrance"

"Sure" you said as you both started walking towards the entrance.

"So you're the one who texted me yesterday huh?" He laughed and said that it was indeed him who set this meeting up.

"Yeah, but only because Jungwoo wouldn't stop talking about you. I think

he really likes you, you know?"

"Really? Wow, well I'm not going to lie and say I haven't thought about him since yesterday."

Jaehyun smiled "I think you two should get some alone time, otherwise, how are you gonna find out if he exclusively eats cereal in his bathtub."

Your face turned bright red "How in the world?"

"Well the cartoon you drew was hard to miss" he laughed "you're pretty creative"

"I like to think so" you smiled.

Lucas was just walking to his car when he heard his best friends laughter. He looked around the corner and saw her laughing with some guy. He definitely wasn't one of her friends, none of them had the same hair colour. He admits that he can be quite protective over Y/n but he's just looking out for her. At least that's what he tells himself. He then thinks back to the conversation he had with Y/n earlier. Was that her boyfriend? But she would tell him something like that right? Did she not want to hang out with him because of that guy? The thought made him angry and he stormed off to his car, eager to get back o his house, slamming the door as he got into the car and sped off.

Jaehyun and I arrived at the front entrance where Jungwoo was waiting with two other guys one of them looked quite short compared to Jungwoo and the other guy who was also very tall but looked more mature than the rest of them.

As soon as they saw us walking towards them the two guys walked towards us and embraced both of us in hugs, Jungwoo stayed behind and as you got closer, you saw that his face has turned a bright shade of red. "Johnny! Ten! You're gonna crush her."

"Jungwoo it's fine," you said laughing at the unexpected affection.

He looked down embarrassed by his friends' actions "Shall we get going? We can take my car" proposed Johnny. All 5 of you jumped when you heard a car door being slammed and the sound of a car speeding off "idiot" Ten mumbled and everyone silently agreed with him.

The guys started walking towards spot where you saw an expensive-looking black Mercedes. You thought about Kevin's words "they're one of the richest guys on campus" and wondered why they even invited you.

"It's gonna be a little tight back there, sorry I'm not used to driving 5 people around." Johnnys words brought you back to reality.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," you said.

Well, it wasn't. You were squished between Jungwoo and Jaehyun, Jaehyuns arm was draped across the headrest and you were having breathing problems because of how close you were to Jungwoo. Thankfully the ride wasn't long and when you finally arrived at the restaurant you got out of the car faster than ever.

You sat next to Jungwoo, across Jaehyun. The afternoon was soon filled with the guys telling you embarrassing stories like that one-time Jungwoo dressed as Rose from titanic on Halloween. They even showed you pictures and videos of him dancing in the costume. Johnny was also rambling about his dad inventing coffee by spilling coffee beans on a rock. Which made you laugh so hard, you almost fell out of your chair.

Yours and Jungwoos hands brushed a couple of times and it made you both blush every time.

When the sky got dark the guys suggested going on a walk to which you agreed to because you ate way too much and needed to burn some calories.

Johnny, Jaehyun and Ten walked ahead of Jungwoo and you to give you guys some time to talk alone.

"I had a great time tonight Jungwoo"

"Me too, uh listen," he said stopping and turning to face you "wanna, like- I mean, If you're not busy ... we could get lunch? You know uh alone this-this time" it was so cute how nervous he was.

"I'd love that," you said smiling sweetly at him.

"Wait really? Woah okay uh is Saturday okay?"

"It's perfect"

"Great. Cool, I'll pick you up at six?"

"Okay, I'll text you the address later"

He was smiling so brightly you thought you're gonna be blind. You started walking forwards slowly and Jungwoo was still not moving so you gently took his hand in yours and led him to the car with red cheeks.

Johnny dropped you off later and you thanked him for the wonderful day.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment Kevin, Minho and Mingyu wanted to know everything about your 'date'. So you told them how it went and you told them about your one on one date with Jungwoo on Saturday. "Aww our little Y/n-ie is growing up so fast," said Minho wiping away fake tears.

"Alright, guys I'm gonna shower and go to bed," you said grabbing water out of the fridge. "Can I join you" shouted Minho.

"Come on then, pretty boy," you said smirking. Minho was always the flirty friend but it would never go past some innocent remarks. Okay maybe once at a party but only once. It's one of the reasons why Lucas didn't like your "other" friend group, and you were careful not to mix them.

You didn't realise how tired you were until you laid in bed. You fell asleep almost immediately after your head hit the pillow.

[a-boros-named-seamus]

Under The Darkened Moon

WARNING, MENTIONS OF CHILD DEATH, VIVID, GORY DESCRIPTIONS

As the howls died down, I saw her cock her head, as if listening to someone speak.

"Before we can begin our work, I must return to Thraben, leaving tomorrow morning. I will return with help to create a new order and to restore your farmland," she declared, sounding... unsure, "But those of you that wish to accompany me, to ensure that I do not lie, that I speak truth, may."

After that, she lowered to the ground, taking off her cloak and setting aside her spear, and began to help. With caring for the wounded, with cleaning up, with cooking.

It was a beautiful sight. Inspiring.

Where Avacyn had been like moon, brilliant and bright, but austere, Elspeth, her Heiress, was like a hearth flame, warm and bright and, welcoming.

As I helped dig a ditch for... wastes, covered in dirt and sweat, three people approached me, two ladies and a man.

They looked at me like I, personally, was responsible for the sun rising this morning, for their lives continuing.

They were wrong. This victory was all theirs, their faith, their sheer bloody-mindedness, their hard work is what saved them.

"We are going to take The Lady up on her offer, Sir Knight," said the person in the lead, a tall, curvy, and solidly built lady with dark skin. Her hair was frizzy and black, bound back into a tight bun to prevent the dead from grabbing it, like most of the other ladies around whose hair wasn't cut short. Her eyes displayed only respect and curiosity.

Her bearing was kind, friendly, and more than a bit stern, like that of a parent, or a teacher, or a nurse.

She was also covered in blood, her clothes torn up, chestplate scratched, wounds already healing, and the claw-severed head of a Skaab hanging at her hip.

More like a particularly matronly general, then.

I kept working, doing the work of two people, as I spoke.

"Alright, milady. You'll have to speak with Lady Elspeth, though. I'm the one in the lead," I told her, "But me, personally? I've got no problem with it. Also, stop the sir talk. Call me Seamus. Seamus Faodlah."

"Alright! Call me Engel. Engel Kinder," she said, thumping her, breast plate, thankfully free of that boob-cupping bullshite. Her two companions moved to stand beside her.

"I'm Brighid Wulver! Nice to meet you!" Exclaimed the other lady.

She was of average height, but she was built like a brick shithouse, covered in muscle and scars. Her hair was cut short, in an odd style that I'd never seen before. She was obviously the brawler type. As she stepped forwards, she stood close to Engel, looking comically short next to the other woman, and I noticed matching rings on their fingers.

"You two married?" I asked, tone exactly the same as if I were asking about the weather or the price of food. IE neutral. "Yes," they answered, almost at once. "Aaaaanyways," said Brighid.

"I'm Owen," said the man, almost sounding embarrassed at the sound of his own voice.

He was tall, with strong, lean muscles. His hair was dirty blonde, eyes green, and jaw strong. He also wore glasses, and a sweater emblazoned with the multiversal symbol for medic, a red cross, on his shoulders. On his shoulder hung a bag with the same symbol on it. It looked heavy, and the blood spattered on it showed that it had been used as a bludgeon.

"Well, nice to meet you all, but I should get back to work. Lady Elspeth is that way," I said, pointing.

They walked off, chattering to each other, mostly about how... unusual I was. I smiled and waved.

---

It was noon the next day dofore the villagers would let the five of us leave.

On the upside, one of the gifts bestowed upon me as they showered lady Elspeth and I with such things was a nice big pack, meant to withstand the change.

At the gates, the four of us lacking wings stripped, putting our clothes in our packs.

Then we shifted. We were going to run to Thraben. Lady Elspeth would keep watch above, providing direction.

We ran well into the night, through the ancient forest, the new moon casting no light. It was beautiful, and due to the power of Avacyn, we never flagged, having tome to drink in the sights and smells and sounds.

It was among those that we heard them hunt.

The Leeraug...

I let loose a howl of pure fury, feeling mana fill my being, ready to shape into magic.

The other three cowered

Lady Elspeth looked confused. "Ask the frrrrragmmment of Aveacyn.abount the Leeraug," I told her, barely able to form words.

I let loose another howl, full of magic.

From the woods emerged more of my wolven brethren, werewolf, wolf, and nature spirit alike, all of them recognising my strength and that it was MY call that they obeyed. Strange, fey magic linked us all.

I didn't even speak, just set off toward the things that took the shaper of werewolf.

I could feel silver fire flood my veins and those of my howlpack. Avacyn and Elspelth both approved of what I was about to do.

We encountered an orphanage.

We were too late to save the children.

Lady Elspeth entered, and I felt a wave of rage explode out before the orphanage exploded in bloody light.

Out stepped Elspeth, The Purifier, wings still soaked in blood and white streak dyed crimson, gaze still blank and pitiless, but now a being of vengeance, of penance for failing her duty, and she was holding in her arms a little girl.

Her legs were torn away at the knee, one arm simply gone, her face hanging open, and guts spilling out.

She was still dying.

Lady Elspeth spoke kind words to her, assuring that a better place was her destination, that she'd been good, that she would be loved and happy and she could be whatever she wanted, like a knight or a princess or an angel. The little girl laughed, and smiled weakly.

"Thank you miss. I should like to see this place. Will you come with me?"

Lady Elspeth smiled at her. "Of course, little one. Of course."

"Thank you miss. But I should like to take a nap first. I'm really tired," she said, smiling and closing her eyes.

Her life left her as she slipped into dreams of paradise, of heaven.

I knelt down, and started using my claws to dig. The rest of the pack joined in following my lead, and soon, we had a grave.

Lady Elspeth set the little one in the grave, and said a prayer in a language I didn't know.

I filled it back in, and stuck a broken piece of the stone heath of the fireplace in the ground at her head.

There was a flash as Elspeth pointed her spear-sword, now dart onyx shot through with crimson, at the stone, and an inscription appeared. "Here lies an innocent soul, Alice. May she find peace."

Elspeth stood, tears flowing down her now pale, rage painted face.

"My knights, let us scrub clean this corruption," she said, all warmth replaced by rage.

We howled our furious agreement.

I charged, my pack surrounding the town and doing the same.

I came upon a thing, a twisted mass of fur and latticed flesh. A thing that had embraced corruption. It was long, thin, bony, and contorted. A creature of shadow and ambush.

I fell upon it, full of rage. I did to it what had been done to the girl.

It didn't die.

Good.

I made it suffer more.

I stalked through the town, streaked with blood and pus and ichor, killing Leeraug as I went. I also granted the blessed sleep to the dying, my heart breaking with each mutilated child that I had to comfort. To kill. Letting them die slow would be cruel.

Images of my little Sean, mutilated like that little girl, of my gentle Aspen bent and broken and dismembered and defiled and eaten, of my gentle Mathias, mind broken and form twisted into another dark thing, all of these flashing through my mind, filling me with fear and rage and determination.

Two long, lithe, and strong weres crossed my path often. Engel and Brighid worked as a team, making up for each other's weaknesses. They left a trail of death as they went. They were wreathed in stone and silver fire respectively, nature's fury incarnate.

Owen was a massive wolf, like someone had twisted tree trunks into the shape of a werewolf and covered the whole thing with fur. He was wreathed in holy golden light, protecting all the children he could round up, his touch healing, reassuring, reinvigorating. His holy might was like an silver wall around the children, impassable, burning and maiming the Leeraug.

As I fought, I saw people, villagers, elders, teenagers, protecting their families, savage snarls slowly becoming snouts, fingers curling into claws. These wolves joined our hunt, driving out the black hearted invaders killing them, unraveling lattices of flesh, dismembering the rest.

Still, many of my pack died to the Leeraug, ambushed and torn apart.

They were avenged.

Lady Elspeth fought with absolute fury, her light harsh and burning, her words inspiring divine fury in the defenders. Truly an Avenging Angel, extracting a price of blood.

The light we shone burned away their shadows, exposing them, and destroying their powers of fear and stealth. They were all eradicated.

Three escaped, only for a strong, cunning werewolf to shred them. He gave me a nod of respect, and left. I had the respect of Ulrich. I was awed.

Eventually, the dawn broke over a nightmare ended, and a people saved, and with it, the end of the hunt.

I strode up to Engel. "Hey, could you talk to these people? Explain our purpose, and the situation? I'm going to find Our Lady," I told her. Elspeth had touched down somewhere in the woods, but she hadn't stopped powering our holy magic.

"Of course. You better speak to her. She looked rattled," she said, smiling and giving me a nod.

I followed Elspeth's scent to a large stream.

She was scrubbing at the blood, sometimes dislodging feathers and hair.

She was sobbing, so I sat down next to her. "My lady, what is wrong? Please, tell me," I said to her, recognizing that her mind was drowning in the past as I spoke.

It was... jarring to see such a person, an unstoppable force, so... frail, so broken, when she inspired such hope.

She jerked out of it and looked at me. She looked so... helpless, full of despair, so I hugged her, until she broke away.

She wiped her eyes, calmed herself, and began to speak. "This plane, the Leeraug, they remind me of the plane I was born on, and many others. It was overrun with phyresis, and each day was a fresh horror. I did horrible things, helped the phyrexians just to... just to survive..." Her face was contorted in pain.

Phyrexians. Some, like Ezurad, weren't half bad, but most of their strains were evil. Pure, undiluted evil. I'd heard the whispered horror-stories of Mirrodin, personal accounts of Dominaria during the war from oldwalkers. The utterly chilling stories Maris and even other Phyrexians have of Elesh Norn.

I tried to help "You don't have to tell me if it hurts too much, we all have our secret pains,"

She looked in my face, steeling herself. "No, I need to let this out, to say it, or I never will," she said, before diving headlong into the rest of it, "On Alara, after Conflux, the liches of Grixis assaulted Bant."

She put a hand on my shoulder when she noticed my grimace at my memories of them. My quest to kill a lich. My phyrric victory. I chuckled softly. I was trying to comfort her, and here she was, comforting me.

"I faced the Phyrexians again on Mirrodin, alongside Venser and Koth to save Karn," she said, as I nodded. I'd heard the stories.

"I went to Theros, defended the people there, championed Heliod," she spat his name in the same way I did Emrakul, "journeyed into Nyx, Ajani at my side, to kill a god of a strength not seen in the multiverse since the Mending*, facing untold monsters along the way," tearing up, beginning to shake, her pain apparent.

I embraced her, one person wracked by trauma to another.

"My lady, you don't have to tell of this part. I've been to Theros, heard how the people speak of you, with more reverence than even that thrice blasted traitor, with love and respect," And it was true. They practically worshipped her as the platonic ideal of a Hero. I'd heard her story told, many different ways in different regions, but all full of respect.

"I... Alright. You can quite obviously tell that I finished my mask. When I left Theros, it slipped off," she said.

"But never have I seen such... utter, disgusting, wanton cruelty as I have seen here. The Phyrexians always had purpose, cold reason, their cruelty a byproduct, not the purpose," she twinged at the memories "The Liches simply killed, trying to swell their armies, killing inventively, but not caring about cruelty cruelty," That, I knew, from personal experience, "On Theros, hordes of monsters killed, but never went out of their way to make their deaths worse. They just killed," I believed her on that. "Here, the things in the dark, the monsters and beasts, they kill for sport. When I joined with Avacyn, I knew about it all, but the true horror..." She looked distant, disconnected.

"In all those places, people fought back, resisted, were able to save themselves. Here, their weapons do nothing. The simply prolong doom," She had begun to weep again, trembling.

"Look at me. Look me in the eyes," I said, stern, determined. She looked up. "That is what you and the other angels are for. To protect. To give us strength to defend our own," dragging her to her feet as I spoke, the blood and the bone paleness running off of her like water.

"You saw Owen, using your holy light to protect, to heal those children, Brighid using the very fury of the sun, Engel crtushing the beasts with the bones of the earth," I slapped her spear, already lightening back to ggold-streaked silver, into her hand.

"You give us power and hope. You are Elspeth. You are Avacyn. It is your duty, your task, to help us, to inspire us, to show us that we can fight!" I bellowed, encouraging her.

As the last of The Purifier cleared away, returning to the dark corners of her soul, she nodded. "Thank you," she said, hugging me. Her light shone, radiant as she returned to the village, the dawn at her back.

She was both the Archangel, and The Purifier. She was hope. She was vengeance. She was Elspeth.

*=I saw in a Q&A on the Wizards Website somewhere that said that Xenagos DID retain his spark

@actualborossoldier @gardianforce @leonin-pal-adin @leonsgirl @selesnyapokemonprofessor @aspenvald @ezurad @ezurad-radomancer @lasav-the-sneakster @asmund-scion-of-ice @nicool--brolas @leagueofbantcraft @kopala-warden-of-tumbr @chandra-pyromaster @ruzena-of-ravnica @holypupper @burning-angrath @innistrad-historian @sorin-investigations @avacynthepurifier @avacyntheangelofhope @avacyn-angel-of-nope @avacyn-jr @milolikesthings @werewarlock @wearepaladin @probablywerewolfrpgideas @userwordandpassname @wearepaladin @ormos-demon-born @chelsea-beleren-vess @poison-stripes @golgaristorm @lucianofsamosata @wearepaladin

[airanke]

Bet You Wish

OKAY!!! LISTEN!! BEFORE YOU READ THIS I GOTTA LET YOU KNOW A FEW THINGS:

This is not. Canon.

Not to Lascivious Ophidian or any other AU or any RPs OR ANYTHING, it’s kind of like the proverbial “bad end”, if you will. I borrowed @madmadameem‘s Nadia and KIND OF went with a “Something Borrowed, Something Blue” vibe because in this short Nadia and Vol’jin are a thing AND it offered a more interesting relationship dynamic than say, me using Vanira. Whom I didn’t just want to randomly throw into a relationship with Vol’jin for the sake of this one short. LET ME HAVE MY HORRIBLE FEELINGS AND THEN MAKE YOU ALL SUFFER WITH ME.

This entire thing spawned from two ideas I had, the first of which I’m not going to tell you so that I don’t spoil, but the second idea was I just kind of really wanted to write a short fight between Vol’jin and Vadim. Vadim is a relatively... new development in Amita’s story (ie. I was thinking about who could have helped her properly master her moonkin / balance druid form because honestly she had to have SOME help), and so Vadim happened.

And I wanted him and Vol’jin to just hate each other for one reason or another. So. Yeah. It’s also partially brought on because I listened to “Bet U Wish” by Raye a while back and was like “OMG WHAT IF THINGS BETWEEN AMITA AND VOL’JIN WENT REALLY REALLY SOUTH” (aside from the other idea, which I’m not gonna say here because, it’s literally introduced in the first few paragraphs HAHA). Specifically, though, it’s the chorus that got me the most, and it goes like this:

“Everything is gone For you I have nothing, absolutely nothing But I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish Yeah, it's all gone Oh you wish we had something, we got nothing But I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish But it's all gone”.

Anyway, I’ll stop rambling here because this is already really fucking long, the actual story is under the cut. Suffer mortals. Suffer with me, SUFFER WITH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-- I’ll make it all up to you I SWEAR I’LL WRITE CUTE FLUFF FOR YOU I’LL WRITE SMUT I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOOOOOOOOU

Panic.

That had been the culprit that lead to this. Vol’jin hadn’t anticipated that Amita would be so hostile toward the worgen king after his hostility toward Sylvanas. She had gone so far as to shift into her hydra form, snarling.

The warchief’s hand shook. In his palm, sat a bloodied tusk - and of course it would be bloody. But it was an accident! He’d only meant to pull her back, and the only thing he could think to get her attention was to grab her tusk.

Because he panicked. Because he didn’t think, because he’d magically forgotten that grabbing another troll’s tusk was stupidest decision he could have ever made.

Vol’jin had startled her. When he wrapped his hand around her tusk, she’d jerked back her head.

He should’ve let go.

He should have never grabbed her tusk in the first place.

Vol’jin had never been so mortified in his life. It grew worse when she screamed in pain, reverting back to her troll form, cupping her cheek. Her green eyes left burns on his skin, wide with betrayal.

Then she was gone.

Whisked herself away on dark wings. He couldn’t shake the sight of the blood that had splattered on the ground.

At least when he turned his head to look at Genn, the worgen looked… stunned. Sylvanas seemed equally as stunned, though he was surprised to see her expression change to being appalled. She snapped at Genn for his idiocy, and the king - surprisingly - backed down without much of a fight.

Vol’jin quickly excused himself - and so here he was, staring at his bloodied palm. The entire tusk had come out. He could even see a bit of flesh on the root.

What have I done.

He closed shaking fingers around the tusk, putting on a smile when the door was pushed open.

“Vol’jin?” came the quiet voice. Nadia stood in the doorway, brows furrowed. She didn’t know what had happened. She didn’t need to know - not yet, anyway.

“Nadia,” he greeted, rising from his seat, keeping the smile on his lips, “I be needing ta go somewhere fah a lil’ bit.”

Her brows narrowed further as he walked around the desk, keeping his right hand as hidden as naturally possible so as to not to alert her.

Nadia turned toward him and he caressed her cheek, holding onto his smile.

“Where?” Nadia questioned, her suspicion clear. She glanced at his right hand, and he let her see his hand - to an extent. Vol’jin kept his grip as relaxed as possible without showing that there was something hidden within his fist.

“Ratchet,” he replied. Her suspicion only mounted. He knew that Amita and Nadia were friends. Vol’jin ducked his head to hide his face for a moment. Loa, this was difficult.

“Only fah a few houahs. I’ll be back befah sundown.”

“Why are you going to Ratchet?” Nadia pressed, following him into the hall of the hold.

“I need… ta do sometin’,” he said, looking over his shoulder at her, “don’ worry ‘bout it.”

Nadia obviously wanted to ask more, but he quickly escaped her sight. He was on his raptor the next second. Ratchet was in his sights soon after that.

She had arrived in a flurry of scaly feathers and tears. Her jaw hurt. She could feel the blood steadily dripping down her chin, even in her wind serpent form.

How dare he?

Sure, perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hostile toward the worgen king, but she had no reason to trust him - or any of the Alliance leaders, not after how high and mighty they behaved after the siege.

Amita couldn’t make it to Rath’s bar. She dropped on the ground, shifting into her troll form, and cupped her cheek in her hand.

Moments later she heard quick footsteps, then a cool hand was pressed over hers.

“Amita!” Vadim exclaimed, his voice tinged with worry, “wat happened? Why ya be bleeding--”

She was grateful that she had prepared herself for his flurry of curses when he realized that she was bleeding because her tusk was gone. The coolness emanating from his hand intensified, and Amita let her own hand slip away so he could place his hand directly on her skin. The cold soothed her aching jaw.

Amita hiccuped, choking on her tears. She couldn’t formulate any words. At least Vadim’s presence was calming her, for the most part, even if she was afraid to tell him why she was missing her tusk because she knew it would only fuel his dislike for Vol’jin more.

“Who in de hell did dis to you?” the mage demanded, the blue of his bleeding into his sclera.

“H-He did-- I--”

“He who?”

“The warchief,” Amita finally rasped, dropping into Zandali. Vadim fell into silence.

“Vol’jin,” she reiterated, closing her eyes tightly. Loa, it nearly made the tears worse.

Vadim retracted his hand from her cheek. Amita struggled to compose herself; others in Ratchet had been drawn to the scene. She quickly raised a hand to both hide the fact that one of her tusks was missing, and to rub away the blood that had dried on her chin.

“That son of a bitch,” the mage snarled, frost coating his tusks. Amita lurched to her feet, moving past him. She could feel the chill when he reached for her - but he must have changed his mind, because it was retracted from her shortly thereafter. She hurried into Rath’s bar, ignoring the orc when he greeted her.

She went right to her room, sitting down at the vanity.

Her face looked so… off-kilter. It looked wrong. She could taste the copper in her mouth, her tongue prodding at the bloody space her tusk had left. Her eyes were puffy and red.

Several minutes passed. Then an hour.

Finally, there was a soft knock at her door. She breathed deeply, tearing her eyes away from her reflection.

“Yes…?”

Vadim pushed open the door. The frost was gone from his tusks, and he had Hakto at his shoulder. Amita’s ears flicked down. She averted her gaze when the tauren shaman’s brows narrowed back in concern.

“Let’s have a look at that, Amita,” Hakto said, his voice absent of its usual gruffness. He gently prodded at her cheek and upper jaw, green magic swirling about his large fingertips.

“And… let’s see about removing the other one.”

Vol’jin paced.

He hadn’t been able to walk in the front door to Rath’s bar. At least three hours had passed since the incident - and wasn’t that damn mage here as well? He vaguely recalled Amita mentioning that the man had come to visit. Perhaps stay. She’d seemed happy.

So why did it bother him so damn much?

Vol’jin shook his head. He chalked it up to Amita being his childhood friend - he was only being protective because he didn’t like Vadim, and Vadim had made it abundantly clear he had no love for Vol’jin.

Still, the warchief sighed, and slumped down against the back of the bar. He could hear people talking inside, passing around stories and jokes. Someone was playing a harp. Drink glasses and bottles clinked at the bar.

Rath would most certainly know what had happened. Vol’jin had grabbed Amita’s tusk, she jerked her head back, and that was that. Out came her tusk.

Vol’jin wet his lips. He was about to get up when his ears caught onto the sound of leather against wood.

“... warchief?”

The troll flinched. It wasn’t Rath, no, but it was Inetiel. The blood elf had a bag of garbage in his hand, and was halfway out the back door.

“Inetiel…” Vol’jin muttered, pushing himself up to his feet, “I…”

“So, he shows his face.”

The blood elf made a sound close to a whine, and Rath nudged the Inetiel with his elbow. The old orc had crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze menacing, “go.”

“Yes’sir.”

Vol’jin watched as Inetiel rigidly walked over to a large steel bin. He forced himself to look at Rath as Inetiel hefted the bag into the bin.

“Where she be?”

“Every time you come here, you ask me that question,” Rath said, his voice deadpan, “and every time, without fail, I give you an answer. If you would be so inclined to tell me, Vol’jin, for what reason I should give you an answer now, I’d be most interested in hearing what that reason is.”

The troll’s ears flicked down. He quickly lowered his head to hide the pout. To be treated like a child when he held the position he had, was a blow to his pride.

Vol’jin supposed he deserved that.

Instead of arguing with the orc, and pulling the warchief card like Vol’jin was certain Garrosh would have - and he was better than Garrosh - Vol’jin extended his right hand. He had taken a moment after arriving to wash the tusk, and he held his breath upon seeing Rath’s posture relax.

“I be needing ta… return dis. And, as I be hoping might be obvious… I be needing ta talk ta her, Rath. I swear I didn’t do dis on purpose. I made a mistake. I be wanting to at least try to fix it.”

Rath breathed deeply. Inetiel scurried past the orc back into the bar, and heartily greeted someone who was clearly there for drinks, and not drama.

“Getting past me is the easy part,” the orc mused. He set a harsh gaze on Vol’jin, “I can’t guarantee that someone else will let you near her. That being said, she’s down that way,” Rath nodded in the direction, “there’s some new homes that were built down there; she’s in the bigger one. It belongs to me.”

Vol’jin dipped his head in respect, and held his tongue against saying any thanks. Like Inetiel before him, Vol’jin began to rigidly walk in the direction Rath had gestured. He was grateful that he’d decided to wear more than usual that day, having a pouch around his hips that he could slip the tusk into.

Absently he ran a finger over the blade of his glaive. This someone else could only be Vadim. The bastard had made it a point to get under Vol’jin’s skin when they were first introduced after the Siege.

Damn it.

The sun was already going down. He’d told Nadia he’d be back before then. What a lie that had been, and now that was two things he was going to have to make up for.

Ahead of him was a well constructed home, similar in all ways to the goblin structures, but made for someone bigger than they were. It sat on a raised plot of land, keeping it out of reach of the sea.

Vol’jin hardly made it up the short incline before he lurched back. Bitter cold struck his chest, crawling over his collarbone and down his abdomen.

Vadim had good aim, Vol’jin would give him that. An ice lance, right to the chest. Quickly, Vol’jin pulled his glaive away from his back, parrying a heavy blow from the mage. He would have to watch out for those daggers attached to Vadim’s staff.

The shadow hunter kicked back, baring his teeth, “let me see her.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Vol,” Vadim growled, magic swirling around his hand, “showing up here, expecting everyone to let you have your way, just because you’re the warchief.”

Vol’jin could feel anger blossom between his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t get any respect from this man. Before he could retort, a harsh winds ripped through the area. If that didn’t alert anyone that a fight was going on, well, Volj’in didn’t know what would.

The blizzard was something the shadow hunter ducked into his swift cobra form to avoid. He skirted closer to the main part of Ratchet, and once he left his snake form, he stayed in a low stance. Vadim had the advantage here.

Being a Darkspear, Vol’jin was susceptible to the cold; Vadim knew that. And even if Vol’jin had spent some time in the cold mountains of Pandaria, it was a different cold to that of a frost mage.

Vadim, it seemed, was too angry to care about keeping his distance. He blinked right to Vol’jin’s position, twirling his staff as a monk would. Vol’jin deflected his blows and returned them in kind, until their movements were nearly too fast to see.

The daggers on Vadim’s staff cut into Vol’jin’s side when the mage abruptly changed the direction of his attack mid-blow. Vol’jin staggered, and Vadim’s hand lit up with purple light. The arcane blast sent the warchief tumbling backward. Goblin bruisers were beginning to move in on the scene, but a bark from Hakto stopped them.

Good.

They should know better than to get in between two fighting trolls.

Vol’jin snarled at Vadim once he collected himself, claws digging into the dirt. Vadim sneered, then charged Vol’jin again. This time, Vol’jin ducked inside the mage’s reach, startling him, and caught the other man around the neck. He pivoted around Vadim, tightening his hold on the mage, and locking one of his arms into an awkward position. It forced the mage to drop his staff.

“I need to talk to her, and by the Loa, Vadim, you’re gonna’ be letting me.”

The mage spewed a flurry of chatterings - Thalassian, if Vol’jin recalled the sound of it correctly - then seemed to shift his head.

Ice blossomed over the back of the mage’s head, and Vol’jin stared wide-eyed right before he released a yelp of pain. Vadim had bashed his frost covered head into Vol’jin’s nose. The shadow hunter had felt it break, and he released Vadim in favor of bringing his hand to his face, blinking his eyes furiously to keep them open despite the burning ache.

The mage blinked forward, gasping for air, then blinked twice again to get behind Vol’jin. Vol’jin spun around, holding his glaive ahead of himself defensively. He had to give the mage credit. He’d accurately estimated that his head was just small enough to fit between Vol’jin’s tusks for him to deliver the deadly reverse headbutt.

Vol’jin did take some pride in seeing that there were cuts all over the other troll’s exposed skin, namely Vadim’s face. So the tip of his glaive had nicked the mage more than he thought it had.

“You vekk,” Vadim spat, once again bringing rage to boil in Vol’jin’s blood, “if you think that I’m gonna’ be letting you anywhere--”

Dark roots cut him off. They coiled around Vadim, pinning down his arms and his legs.

Vol’jin felt the ground under him rumble as well. He dropped his glaive, pulled his hand away from his face, and managed to fish the tusk out of his pouch before the roots entangled him too.

Amita’s face was red with fury - and Vol’jin had to avert his gaze. She looked so different without her tusks. He should have known that she would have the other one removed.

From the way she breathed in Vol’jin knew there was much she wanted to say. She spoke to the mage first, “please. Stop. I don’t be needin’ this right now.”

“Amita--”

“Vadim. I don’t. I appreciate it, but I don’t be needin’ it. Please.”

The mage went quiet. Voices reached Vol’jin’s ears, though their conversation was muddled. He didn’t want to look over his shoulder to see how many people had gathered, or how many of them recognized him.

Amita stalked over to him. Under the fury in her eyes he could see her pain. He glanced at his closed fist; her eyes followed.

“And what be you doin’ here?” she asked, the venom in her voice doing little to mask the bitter hurt. Vol’jin wet his lips.

“Can I talk to you?”

“You be talkin’.”

He ducked his head, unable to stop the smile that crossed his lips. He should have known she’d retort with that.

“I be meaning,” Vol’jin raised his gaze, brows narrowing back, “may I be having a moment of your time, to speak in private, Amita.”

A certain weariness crossed her features. She waved her hand to release him of the roots.

“Fine. Follow.”

He took only a moment to stoop and pick up his glaive before hurrying after her. She led him to the bar, where he had been slouched just moments before.

This was where she felt safest. It was also the only reason he knew he had to come to Ratchet, because she felt safest here, because this was where Rath and Hakto and Inetiel were - and by extension, that bastard of a mage.

The two trolls regarded each other in silence. She was wearing warmer clothes, unsuited for the weather of the Barrens, and Vol’jin could only assume it was because Amita was trying them on for one reason or another. He wasn’t used to seeing her wear such “modest” clothing, as it were.

He attempted to break the silence first, “Amita--”

“Hakto said it might not grow back.”

Under his war paint, Vol’jin paled. Amita’s gaze was level with his. She continued, as he remained mortified by the prospect, “of course, the chances are higher that it will. But it be a possibility all the same. My left tusk might not ever grow back right, if at all.”

Vol’jin recalled the flesh he’d seen in the root of the tusk, something that he had to use a dagger to get out. Depending on the amount of violence used to remove a tusk, the damage could be irreversible.

If her tusk didn’t grow back, Vol’jin wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

“Is… is he gonna’ keep tabs on it?” Vol’jin asked quietly, molten eyes fixed on his feet, “to make sure it… don’t be goin’ awry?”

“You best look at me, warchief, or I just might walk off on you.”

Vol’jin jerked up his head, and where anger had rooted itself after Vadim had been so disrespectful in the use of the title, a painful ache now grew. He knew what it meant. Amita had always intended it to be a way of distancing herself from him.

He held out his hand, opening it to reveal the tusk, “Amita, I’m sorry.”

She looked down at his hand, then back up at him, “is that why you be coming here?”

“To return it, yes,” Vol’jin said, clenching his teeth, “and to be apologizing. I didn’t think about how else to be calming you. It was a bad decision on my part. I’m sorry.”

Amita hesitantly moved toward him. She raised her hand, and drew no closer than was necessary for her to take her tusk back. The ache in his chest spread. Loa, he’d really done it. He knew her well enough to understand that for her to physically keep her distance spoke volumes of the amount of trust he’d lost.

The druid looked over the tusk in her hand. Vol’jin watched her nervously. He wanted to make this right. He wanted to fix this, and he didn’t know how.

“I’m going to Northrend.”

This news hit him about as hard as Vadim’s ice lance did. That explained the warmer clothing - and if she was going to Northrend, she was going to need a companion, someone who knew that land like the back of his hand.

Someone like Vadim.

Vol’jin couldn’t accept it. This change couldn’t be caused solely by the fact he had accidentally ripped out her tusk.

“Amita it was an accident,” he said it like that would fix everything. The way she looked at him made his heart plummet into his stomach. Once again she was on the verge of tears. Vol’jin valued his personal relationships too much to let her slip through his fingers because of his mistake. They’d been friends for years. Maybe more than friends, at one point, but neither of them had seen it, and now it was too late--

Amita lowered her gaze. Vol’jin clenched one of his hands into a fist.

“Ami, please.”

She said nothing. He took a step forward and praise the Loa, she didn’t step back.

But a snap reached his ears. He stared at her with wide eyes.

Amita extended a hand toward him. She looked at her fist, then at his hand, and finally, up at him. He hesitantly raised his, palm up.

She lowered her fist into his open hand. When she opened it, the caress of her nails sent a spark up his arm that they really had no business sending. She let her hand rest on his, palm to palm, with something jagged and sharp in between.

It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be.

“Consider this the end of us, son of Sen’jin.”

She lifted her hand away, revealing that she had broken her tusk in half, and had given the upper portion - the part that came to a point - back to him.

Vol’jin’s breaths started coming a little quicker.

“A-Amita,” he sought her gaze, molten eyes burning.

“I can’t be doin’ this anymore,” her green orbs lacked their usual life.

“Amita, I--”

“I dunno how long I’ll be gone.”

“Ami, please--”

“Go back home, warchief.”

Vol’jin stared at her in disbelief. It couldn’t be like this. One little mistake and he’d ruined everything. He could almost hear Vadim laughing. Mocking him. One of his most important relationships, aside from Nadia, Vanira, Rokhan, Baine, and Thrall, and he had ruined it.

The mage would have a field day.

And Amita was still waiting for him to leave.

He intended to make it easier for her. Walk around her, and leave. Walk around her, and leave. Walk around her, and leave.

Vol’jin embraced her tightly instead.

Amita’s whole body shook. He barely felt the touch of her hand at the small of his back. Her face was pressed against his neck, and he buried what he could of his in her hair without tangling her locks in his tusks, and despite the dull ache in his nose.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that, only that he couldn’t seem to hug her close enough.

Finally, she spoke. She sounded defeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Vol’jin, I need you to go, please.”

He stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender, his thumb keeping the piece of tusk she’d given him from falling to the grassy ground. Vol’jin could leave it at that, if only because she’d relented and called him by his name. He walked around her.

Her footsteps whisked through the grass as she ran away from him, once he was no longer looking at her.

Vol’jin tipped his head back, staring at the sky. It was getting dark. He had to get back to Orgrimmar before Nadia got suspicious and came looking for him herself - and he knew she would. She always found some way to get around whatever obstacles he put in her way to try and keep her in the Hold while he was away on business.

Before he could leave, a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Hold still,” the low voice belonged to Hakto. He reached over and, in one swift move, straightened out Vol’jin’s nose. The warchief hardly flinched. Funny how he had forgotten about the ache in his face when the ache in his chest began. The shaman easily healed not only Vol’jin’s broken nose, but also the rest of the injuries he’d gotten in his short spat with Vadim.

“... when?” came the quiet question. Hakto exhaled through his nose, giving his grand head a shake.

“Two weeks,” he paused, then spoke again, “warchief.”

Vol’jin looked up at the shaman, surprised to find that Hakto was giving him a gentle, almost fatherly gaze, “give her space. This isn’t a decision she just… jumped to in the span of what? Three hours?”

The shadow hunter nodded his head, blinking. Wondering what the tauren was getting at.

“Vadim’s been wanting to get her out of the Barrens for days. Hell, even weeks. He last brought it up when the Siege was over. Even mentioned something about wanting to take her back to Pandaria,” Hakto reached behind himself, hand outstretched as if to silence someone that had come up behind him, “and sometimes, warchief, the best things in your life come to an end.”

Vol’jin glowered at the ground. He tightened his hand around the broken tusk he held. Hakto squeezed his shoulder.

“But that doesn’t mean that they can never be rebuilt.”

Vol’jin clapped a hand to the tauren’s shoulder. Hakto had no reason to bother telling him any of this. He held it together as he looked up at the tauren.

“Tank you.”

Hakto nodded, then gestured toward the warchief’s raptor, “you best go. Before sentries come looking for you.”

Vol’jin muttered his agreement, and it was only when he was a fair distance from Ratchet, between Crossroads and Orgrimmar, that he allowed a few tears to fall.

Nadia had been agitated for the past few days. Vol’jin was acting very strange. Apart from returning long after he said he would, he’d greeted her with the fakest smile she had ever seen cross his features, and then proceeded to distract her from questioning him by kissing her like his life depended on it.

Worse, and somewhat unsettling to the mage, was the fact that Amita had been nowhere to be seen. Nadia knew she could have easily gone to Ratchet to check on her friend herself, but whenever she intended to go, Vol’jin managed to find something he needed her help with.

Oddly, she became aware that he had started wearing a necklace she had never seen before. She would have brought it up already, but…

From what Nadia could tell, part of the necklace was another troll’s tusk. She had to admit, she was afraid to ask whose tusk it was.

Currently, she was wandering around Orgrimmar. The Lunar Festival was just around the corner, and she was humoring Vol’jin by looking for some fabric to use to make into an appropriate outfit for the event - and of course, Nadia was looking for a dress herself, or maybe even some fabric to have one made as well.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Looking at all the patterns was making her eyes dizzy, so she glanced to the left.

And immediately staggered forward to latch onto Amita’s wrist because Nadia would know that mass of blue hair anywhere.

“Amita!!” she exclaimed, a wide grin spreading over her lips--

Only to stare in horror when Amita turned her head, eyes wide with surprise.

Amita’s tusks.

They were gone.

Nadia could sense, with perfect clarity, that the druid’s thoughts had just been reduced to a distressed “oh no”.

The mage continued to stare, her grip on Amita’s wrist slackening. Her tusks didn’t even look like they were growing back at all, which meant that they must have been removed recently.

Nadia recalled the necklace in a vivid picture. She recalled the natural color of Amita’s tusks. The images in her mind were identical.

“Ah… Nadia. I, um,” the druid slouched, her ears pinning back.

“Amita, what happened to your tusks,” Nadia deadpanned, her grip on Amita’s wrist regaining its strength. Amita pressed her lips together. This prompted Nadia to drag the other woman into the nearest, quietest space, which happened to be The Broken Tusk - the name of which she vehemently ignored due to the ridiculous irony - and into a dimly lit back corner because thank all the gods above, below, and between that it was mostly empty.

“Amita, what happened to your tusks,” she repeated.

Nadia was not prepared for the tears that spilled down Amita’s cheeks.

“Amita please tell me what happened,” Nadia asked yet again, hoping to get the story out of the druid. Hoping that, despite all logic pointing in that direction, that the broken tusk Vol’jin now wore wasn’t hers.

“Ih-...” Amita pulled her hand out of Nadia’s grasp, rubbing at her face. The mage gave her a moment to compose herself, questions nagging in the back of her mind with the belief that once Amita started her story, they would be answered.

“It be happenin’, ‘bout two weeks ago…” Amita began, constantly brushing tears away from her cheeks, “some o’ de Alliance leadahs be here. Evah since de Siege, I nevah been likin’ dem much. De um, de worgen king, he uh, be gettin’ hostile toward de Banshee Queen.”

Nadia’s eyes tightened.

“I don’ be de biggest fan o’ her, bu’ she still be a de facto leadah of de Horde. I kinda’ snarled back at him. De king, dat is, in my hydra form.”

Nadia’s brows furrowed further in concern. She reached for Amita’s hands, “what--”

“Vol’jin panicked. And den I panicked, cuz I wasn’... I wasn’ expectin’ ‘im to be grabbin’ my tusk--” Amita inhaled sharply to stave off a sob, “he… still had his grip, and den, I be jerkin’ my head back.”

Nadia’s hand hovered centimeters away from Amita’s, until the druid moved it again to brush away the fresh tears.

“De combination, it be rippin’ out my left tusk.”

The mage balled her hand into a fist, and quickly lowered it back to her side.

“I-I’m not gonna’ be here fah much longah. I’m… leavin’.”

“Leaving?!” Nadia exclaimed, startled by the news, “I -- you-- I didn’t hear anything about this!”

“I know. I’m sorreh, Nadia, bu’ I…” she bit her lip, then switched to Zandali, giving the two women more privacy on the matter, “I can’t be here. It hurts too much. Vadim, he be the mage I’m goin’ with, he’ll be here soon.”

Nadia’s heart pounded in her ears, “where? Where are you going? Please tell me you’ll stay in touch, I don’t want to lose you just because Vol’jin --”

“I’m goin’ to Northrend. From there, I dunno. Vadim won’t tell me, wants me to be in the moment, so to speak,” Amita interrupted, “and I’m… not gonna’ make you any promises, Nadia. I can’t. I be thinkin’ about this for some time. I need to put more distance between myself and Vol’jin.”

“Why?” Nadia pleaded, searching Amita’s expression for any explanation, “going all the way to Northrend, and not staying in touch--”

Amita held a finger to Nadia’s lips.

“Because I love him, Nadia.”

The mage stared, shoulders lowered, brows back.

“And I can’t be takin’ it anymore. Seeing him get cozy with you, I-- I need to heal,” Amita paused, letting her hand drop back to her side, “it don’t be your fault. It’s my own fault. I be feelin’ this way for so long, but ever since… ever since I had Bujune, ever since I got back from the Zandalar islands I… I been tryin’ to put a wall between me and Vol’jin.”

Nadia balled her hands into fists. This wasn’t the answer she wanted. There had to be another reason - and what did Amita mean, she had to heal? She didn’t want to ask “why” again - so Nadia resorted to boring holes into the woman before her.

“I’m a nehjo, Nadia, don’t be lookin’ at me like that,” Amita said softly, “how could I ever be with someone like him?”

“You,” Nadia struggled to keep the anger out of her voice - not at Amita, no, but at this situation, “you wrote yourself off because of what happened on the Zandalar islands, because you had a child? Because you happen to enjoy the company of other men - which, you know, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I was used on the islands, Nadia!” Amita said, pain in her voice, “I defined my worth based on whether or not I be good enough to bear a man’s child, and I kept my distance from anyone who be wantin’ more than just one night, because I never wanted children! And that… that included Vol’jin. He talked about children offhandedly sometimes. It was so obvious he wanted kids when he be ready for them.”

Her tears started all over again, “listen, I-I only came here to be seein’ him one last time before I go. And just seeing him, Nadia, I don’t wanna’ talk to him. He already broke my heart. I don’t be needin’ him to shatter it too.”

“I’m not exactly happy to know that you wrote yourself off of your chance to be with someone you loved because you didn’t want kids!” Nadia said hurriedly, wracking her mind for anything to change Amita’s mind, “you-- you could have adopted! That was always an option!”

Amita shook her head, and Nadia grabbed the druid’s hands, “Amita I care about you, if you loved him so much why didn’t you just say something?!”

“Because I am nothing,” Amita choked, her expression enough to bring tears to Nadia’s eyes, “and he, he is everything.”

She pulled her hands out of Nadia’s once again, wiping furiously at her face, “how could I ever be with someone like him? I don’t even be close. I’m a whore, and a single-mother, and I be wanting nothing more than to just be happy for him and for you because I be liking you, but my jealousy be catching up to me. And it be my own fault. So I need to get away from here, and get him off my mind, and out of my heart.”

Nadia trailed desperately after Amita as the druid strode out of the inn, “please. Please write me. I don’t need it to be every day, but once every week, Amita, please--” she grabbed Amita’s hand, brown eyes begging, “please don’t leave like this.”

At the very least, Amita hesitated. Her green eyes seemed all the more brilliant. There was a lot of commotion at the Hold, and Nadia realized with a sinking heart, that Amita knew meeting schedules like the back of her hand. She had come to Orgrimmar specifically at this time because she knew that there would be a break.

To make matters worse, there was a drake circling Orgrimmar - obviously with someone on it’s back, because the wind riders weren’t making a fuss about it - and Nadia could only assume that this was the Vadim fellow that Amita had mentioned.

“Okay.”

The mage’s attention snapped back to Amita, eyes wide with hope.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Nadia practically had to jump to wrap her arms around Amita’s neck. Part of her wanted to apologize - but the other part reminded her, what difference would it have made, even if Amita told Vol’jin how she felt?

One last time.

She would let herself see him one last time.

Nadia had since let her go. Amita had watched her friend all but storm off after a tight embrace, wondering if that anger was directed at Vol’jin, or the fact that this situation was entirely out of her control. In the end, Amita decided that she shouldn’t worry herself over it.

She did, however, worry over perhaps causing an unnecessary rift between the couple so close to the Lunar Festival.

Vadim was circling the city in a wide arc, as she had requested him to. She didn’t want him to land. She didn’t want Nadia to run the risk of meeting him, because Amita knew he would be snide and flippant with her, chalking her up to being just as terrible as Vol’jin was in his eyes.

Perhaps Amita should have known better than to even think of the devil, because he emerged from the Hold, looking every part the warchief he was required to be. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest at the sight of him. She felt warm and giddy and distraught and envious all at once.

She stared for too long. He raised his head from looking down at someone. His eyes met hers, and his hand flew to the necklace he had around his neck. Amita felt her mouth and her eyes turn down in sadness.

He wore her broken tusk around his neck, so that it would be a constant reminder of his failure - or at least, what he considered to be his failure. Perhaps Amita should make sure that Nadia could make him get rid of the necklace eventually. She had intended for him to throw her broken tusk away, but for him to choose to hold onto it…

Amita hadn’t wanted him to carry it as a burden.

She offered him the best smile she could manage. His expression twisted into one of distress, and with her heart in her throat, Amita turned and ran.

The druid sprinted out of gates, startling a few orcs who were coming into the city, and once free of all the eyes, she shifted into a wind serpent. Her despairing screech brought Vadim and his dragon to her rather quickly.

Amita spent the first hour of her trip crying and crying and crying against Vadim’s back. He let her.

She was so grateful that he let her.

Vekk - according to this post, it means “crooked or dishonourable, but can also be used as an expletive when referring to an untrustworthy” Wanted to have Vadim call Vol’jin that to cement the idea that he really does not like Vo’jin you guys. He’s also be REALLY disrespectful when he drops the “jin” suffix from Vol’jin’s name. Like HELLA disrespectful.

CAN YOU BELIEVE I WANTED TO ADD AN ENTIRE SECTION WHERE NADIA AND VOL’JIN WERE ARGUING ABOUT THIS BECAUSE YOU BETTER BELIEVE THAT I WANTED TO BUT MY GAWD IT’S LONG AND I’M SORRY AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Amita has a lot of self-worth issues I’m cry. Omg I’m so glad this isn’t actually canon but I mean like... //GROSS SOBBING I’M APOLOGIZE??? Aaaaaa

[viivum]

Rules of Magic

I can't do a read more on mobile, but I feel like posting my notes on how magic works in the revenant world SO LONG POST INCOMING ========================= Revenants: Rules of Magic •The universe consists of various energies •The energy ripples and flows, forming different patterns for different things "Souls" •A specific form of energy that comes into existence only in something that has become aware •There are Lesser and Greater souls. -Lesser souls are from animals: aware of the world around them -Greater souls are from humans and other sapient beings: aware of the universe itself, and able to question it -ie; when a piece of the universe is able to observe itself, things get weird Souls as Magic •Soul energy can be channeled to mix with the energy of other beings and things in order to directly manipulate them. •Not everyone is able to do this very well Runes • Every form of energy has a type of "pattern" in the universe •Runes are particular shapes that correspond with these patterns, and are able to invoke them from another source to the location of the sigil •However runes have no power if just drawn or carved on anything. They must be activated via use of blood and incantations or "music" •Incantations and Music consist of very specific tones that will vibrate the energy of the subject and "open" the rune. They're essentially tears in reality. Meanwhile, the use of blood will allow the creator to sort of infuse it with their own energy, which makes it more reactive and easy to manipulate at will •Runic magic reacts best to the original creator, but can still resonate with other people..though to a lesser degree -ex. Scrying stones would give a clear vision to the user, while it'll give a vague hazy idea to anyone else -charms and amulets work on this principle, giving only minor help to the people they're sold to, unless they are Custom made Accepted practices vs "Dark" practices •Accepted is mostly in the line of making charms and amulets, useful tools that aren't especially potent, require little more blood than a slice of the finger •Dark Magic slips into the territory of sacrificing other creatures •Some things require more blood than a single person can produce Ghosts •When a person dies the soul is still bound to the person..still in the shape of their specific "pattern" •Usually after death Soul energy will dissipate back into the universal flow, but sometimes a fragment will remain, unattached to anything and able to roam •That's a ghost! •It's essentially an Imprint of a fraction of the person it once was •They're naturally drawn to other ghosts, and will gather in large groups to foooorm..... Demons! •When enough ghosts gather, the fragments will sometimes congeal into an entirely new and Aware being •Essentially, a very large soul without a body •Demons draw energies into themselves from all around, and are the only things able to do so without the requirement of blood or physically carved runes •Their connection is simply..innate. And they are naturally able to "sing" at the frequencies required to invoke most things, almost as if they are made up of rune-like tears themselves -just like there are lesser and greater souls, there are lesser and greater demons -lesser demons are primarily animalistic, greater are more human -both are very dangerous and should be approached with caution •Demons can be forcefully bound to physical things, but it's a difficult feat -a demon being bound to a human form is generally unpleasant, as the demon Soul is not meant to really..Fit, in the host. -As a result, the last of the demons energy before the seal settles is usually spent trying to Stretch the host to fit them better -in the case of humans, it never is a very smooth process, and they usually end up a bit mangled looking -this goes for just about anything a demon is bound to, it'll just get Ruined The Undead •Draugar, Wraiths, and Vampires (one type) all occur when a willful soul refuses to let go of its body, and essentially forces it partially back to life •The catch is, each one loses something •Basically. someone who died and came back with a corrupted soul, and as a result, an altered body Draugr: -loses most of its sense of self, becoming a creature driven primarily by anger and greed. -however, the aggressive soul draws in organic matter around it and packs it into itself, creating a bigger, nastier form -with very few exceptions, most draugar are like wild animals Wraiths: -the soul focuses on keeping all of its memories and mental capacities intact, but loses most of its body -very little of their original form remains, but like the draugar, they are able to absorb matter from other beings -A temporary thing though, as it will Rot away Vampires: -The middle man of the two, a vampire results from a soul trying to stay as balanced as possible -sometimes they lose memories and skills, but retain their personality, other times it's the other way around -either way they have to relearn or rediscover something or another -their body stays mostly intact, but loses the ability to create blood...which keeps everything functioning -so like the others, it is forced to take from other sources Mixes? -to think on- undead that are varying mixtures of the main three? Ghouls: -are living creatures -are freaky natural aberrations -they're essentially Pockets of space, able to ingest and assimilate matter and form into their own at will -an old ghoul is much heavier than it looks -it's unknown how "full" one can get -ghouls are utilized in any type of Magic that requires something to be bigger on the inside than it is on the outside! -this is bad news for the ghoul Revenants; -To make a revenant a soul must be carefully stripped from its body entirely -then the soul is contained in a small sturdy rune that it can Channel itself from (I think Cicero makes these runes so that it's near impossible to take one apart and study) -this object is placed into a modified body (Cicero specifically makes its revenants able to channel particular metals), which it is then loosely bound to -this allows the person..the soul..to retain its full self, and have control of a perfectly functioning body while also being virtually unkillable..something not quite alive or dead -NEW: -Cicero modifies its revenants with metals, which allows them to use their bodies like living weapons Agda: Copper Weapon: Electricity + halberd Cym: Gold Weapon: Mace + Sheer Strength Stibnite: Silver Weapon: Spears + Armor Larimar: Mercury Weapon: Toxic vapor + Melting and reforming from inside of someone ***SKYPE NOTES I think I figured out exactly what the perks of revenants are So demons are bodyless sapient souls right..and are able to directly manipulate energy around them into What The Fuck Ever without Runes or Blood or nothin.... which is what makes them horrifying So revenants are souls stripped from their body..and are able to do the same thing BUT, as a security measure, you tether it to a core. And bind That to a body..(thus limiting the souls reach to that bod and not have it pulling shit out of thin air) And then it's able to do whatever the fuck it wants to that body But Cicero forcefully limits its revenants to certain elements, or they would be way too op if they decided to be..Disobedient SO they can do shit like go back and forth between flesh and Solid Metal, and reshape their bodies at will I guess theoretically if you were to rip off that revs arm, it could rebuild a new one out of thin goddamn air because the Soul™ still has that pattern So this would mean, say, cym (WHO NEEDS A NEW NAME) would be able to essentially turn herself into solid gold....plus gives me an excuse for cym's ONE EYE and agda's SCARY MOUTH...and stibs sheet metal hair..they just Make it that way cuz they CAN!!

[pandabearlikes]

Temporary Affairs II

 Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Chapter 11. Little Miracle

  Dressed in a warm wool sweater and leggings, you slouched on the sofa watching some Kdrama and munching on some cashews, when an unfamiliar sensation started at the right side of your lower abdomen.  You applied pressure to the area, thinking it was just Yoona kicking as always, but then the sensation started to resonate up and throughout your stomach.  Trembling and a bit panic-stricken, you placed the can of nuts onto the coffee table and turned off the television to focus and analyze the pain.

  “Oh my God,” you said under your breath, huffing and puffing, when the muscles on your stomach contracted just to expand within seconds. 

  “Op….pa…” you called out weakly but Jongin was so focused in whatever he was doing in the kitchen.

  Your mother-in-law and the maid coincidentally had gone out to the super market moments prior to your painful endeavor.

  When the throbbing feeling escalated to the entirety of your stomach, back, and legs, you were certain what was happening.  And then to solidify your hypothesis, a gush of warm liquid flooded out from between your legs. 

  Clawing the sofa, you attempted to call out again, “Op….pa!”  I’m in labor you PABO!  What the heck are you doing in the kitchen!?!?

  But your cry for help was so inaudible, Jongin didn’t hear.  Out of desperation, you grabbed a vase on the coffee table and with shaking hands, pushed it onto the ground.  Finally, the loud shattering alerted your husband and he came rushing into the living room, with a spatula still in his hands and an apron tied around his neck.

  “Jagiya?!  What happened?” he asked, witnessing your twisted face, wide stride, and labored breathing. 

  “I’m…I’m…in…la-labor…” you stuttered, closing your eyes and groaning in pain.   

  The wooden spatula fell from his hands in accordance to the blood that drained from his face.  He stood still as a statue.

  “Op…pa…” you whimpered desperately for help.

  Jongin continued to stand still in place.  Omg.

  “PABO!  I’M IN LABOR!  BRING ME TO THE HOSPITAL!” you gathered all your energy to wake him up. 

  And it sure woke him up all right because your husband instantly lifted you up into his arms, racing as fast as humanly possible to the garage.  His fingers trembled though – heck his whole body was shaking so badly that it took him ten tries before he managed to get the key in the keyhole.

  “Oppa, calm down,” you tried to sooth by stroking his arm but a sudden jolt from within your abdomen caused you to claw his arm tightly in agony. 

  He grimaced but tried his best to calm down for the sake of your sanity.  But you swore he was rage driving, running stop signs and red lights, honking and shouting at drivers to go the hell faster.  You held tightly onto his free hand when he zoomed pass another red light.  From the corner of your eye, you saw a red and blue swirling light flash at the intersection.  Shit.  Not long after sirens sounded and the police car chased after you.  In a fit of anger and panic for your well-being, Jongin ignored the police but they just kept following and ordering you to stop through their speaker.

  “Oppa…just stop, okay?” you suggested.

  With a frustrated sigh, Jongin pulled over.  A police walked over, with his shoulders broaden and his badge held out in front of him.  He knocked on the driver window, ready to reprimand you two but as soon as he opened his lips, you cut him off.

  “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SIR I’M IN FREAKIN’ LABOR.  IT FEELS LIKE SOMEONE JABBED A WHOLE PLANET INTO MY VAGINA.  IF YOU DARE YAP AND TALK FOR MORE THAN TEN SECONDS AND YOU CAUSE MY BABY AND I IRREVERSIBLE DAMAGE, I WILL SUE THE LIVING HELL OUT OF YOU, YOUR DEPARTMENT, YOUR FAMILY, AND THE NINE GENERATIONS THAT FOLLOW HERE ON AFTER!” you surprised yourself and Jongin by screaming.

  The police gaped in shock at your outburst, in the process, almost dropping his badge onto the street.  You exaggerated a few groans to prove your point so he slowly nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Follow us, we will open up traffic for you,” he informed. 

  Beside you, Jongin sighed in relief, a slight smirk curled on his face at your familiar sassiness. 

  “Tsk, focus on the driving, Oppa.  I’m really in pain,” you cautioned, slapping his arm.  He nodded, stroked your hand with his thumb, and drove off again.

  By the time you reached the hospital, the pain had increased hundred-folds.  You were constantly scraping your nails against anything to try to distract yourself.  Next to you, Jongin tried his best to hold you still. 

  “She’s not fully dilated yet,” the doctor informed, “Maybe in an hour she can begin pushing”.  WHAT?!  WHAT DO YOU MEAN IN AN HOUR!?!? YOU’RE TELLING ME THE PAIN WILL INCREASE? 

  “Oppaaaaa,” you wailed.

  “Breathe, Jagiya,” he hugged your head against his chest as you shook. 

  “Do you need some painkillers?” the doctor suggested.  YES BUT NO BECAUSE EPIDURAL IS THE DEVIL’S DRUG.  You had done plenty of research and read all about the side effects of the drug.

  “No!” you responded, biting your lower lip.  The doctor nodded and left to go check on other patients while the hour ticked away like ten. 

  “I’m going to dieeee,” you moaned into the chest of Jongin. 

  “Shhh…shh…I’m so sorry Jagiya,” Jongin coaxed.  You removed your head from his chest to look at him confused at his apology. 

  Finally, you noticed he had been crying. 

  “I’m fine Oppa, don’t worry.  And really, anything I say today, please don’t take it to heart,” you made sure he was aware. 

  “We’re not having six children,” he said firmly. 

  “Yes we are!” you shouted back and he looked at you with a heartbroken expression. 

  Just when you were about to give him a lecture, another merciless contraction sent shocking currents throughout your body.  You arched your back and screamed in anguish.  OMG.  OMG.  I’M SO GOING TO DIEEEEEEEE. 

  “Jagiya, are you sure you don’t need some painkillers?” he asked, helpless that he couldn’t do anything to lessen your discomfort.

  “No.  No, I don’t want it,” you answered with determination, but groaned again when a splitting feeling ran up your legs. 

  “I think you need it.  I’ll go get the doctor!” he reasoned, letting go of your hand to fetch a medical professional. 

  “NO!  KIM JONGIN YOU STAND RIGHT THERE!” you shouted, causing your husband to freeze right where he was.    

  With a contorted face, he turned around and asked, “Why?  I can’t bare to see you like this”.

  “Oppa…the drug is bad for the baby,” you finally admitted.

  The stiffness of his facial features softened and he gazed at you as if you were some Heavenly entity.  Persuaded by your rationale, he walked back over to your side and bent over to kiss you on the forehead.  A teardrop rolled down his eyes and mixed with one of yours on your cheek. 

  Another strong jab landed in your abdomen but you bit your tongue so you wouldn’t scream and scare your poor already pale-faced husband. 

  “I’m so useless right now,” Jongin murmured, blinking back tears.

  “No, no you’re not.  Please, Oppa.  I need you here with me or else I’ll freak out and second-guess myself,” you sincerely said but he looked at you doubtfully. 

  Another contraction began to commence and you hissed in pain, grabbing tightly onto your husband’s hand.  You thought you were going to blow up into shredded pieces of flesh but then Jongin placed his warm hand onto your belly. 

  “Yoon-ie, please, don’t make it too hard on Omma, okay?” he begged and you felt your lips quiver. 

  Just when you were about to respond, the doctor walked in again to check on your progress.  Both Jongin and you eyed her with anticipation, praying that you were ready to push so you could end your misery already.     

  “Nope, not yet.  Maybe another hour?” she reported, and you sunk back into the mattress in exhaustion.  I AM REALLY GOING TO DIE SOON.  ALL MY HAIR WILL FALL OUT AND BLOOD WILL GUSH OUT OF MY EYES AND GUMS. 

  “Oh my God!” you shouted when the contractions started up again. 

  “I offered you epidural and you didn’t want it earlier.  Do you want it now?” she said, almost in an insensitive way.  YES BUT NO.  NO CAN DO. 

  “No, I’m fine,” you replied with gritted teeth.

  “Okay…then…” she sighed and trudged off to another patient’s room. 

  As soon as she left, you started to vocally scream from the pain.  You seriously grew mad respect for every mother in this entire universe for going through this pain and still acting as if it was nothing.  BECAUSE IT WASN’T NOTHING.

  “I’m going to die…I’m going to die…” you kept murmuring.  Jongin brought your hand up to his lips but even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the insanity. 

  “_______ah!” a voice called as the owner rushed forward.

  Immediately, you burst in to tears, “Ommaaaa”. 

  “Omunim,” Jongin bowed and scooted over to give your mother some room to stand beside you. 

  “Aigoo, my precious daughter.  How could you turn so pale, you’re breaking Omma’s heart,” she said tearfully.  

  “Ommaaaa, it hurts everywhere,” you cried. 

  “I know Honey, I know…but I promise you it will be all worth it when you deliver a healthy baby,” she persuaded and you nodded understandingly. 

  She stroked your cheek then turned to your husband, “Jongin-ah, how are you doing?  Are you keeping up well?  Oh, my poor son-in-law, you’ve gotten so pale as well”.

  “I must have scared the life out of Oppa,” you explained but Jongin shook his head, explaining that he was fine. 

  “Well, Jongin is doing miles better than your Appa, _______ah.  When I gave birth to you, your father’s legs trembled so much, the doctors actually had to give him some Xanax to calm him down,” your mother laughed, recalling the past.

  “Really?  I can’t see that happening…” you said doubtfully then looked around, “But where is Appa?”  Did he not come?  You looked down at your hands, disappointed so Jongin tried to cheer you up with a kiss on the forehead. 

  “Hey, Old man!  Your daughter asked where you are!” your mother hollered.

  Looking up, you saw your father slowly enter the room after he’d been quietly eavesdropping and peeping in for a while now.  Due to his excessive shaking, he almost stumbled forward. 

  “Appa!” you called out worriedly but thankfully Jongin rushed over and held him steady by the arm. 

  He didn’t say a word and you didn’t need him to say anything because the fact that he showed up already meant so much to you.  Tears filled his eyes as he bent down to kiss you on top of your head. 

  The doctor entered and finally announced that you were ready to begin pushing.  With one last squeeze on the hand from both your parents, they walked out to give you and Jongin the private moment for yourselves. 

  As the doctor positioned your legs for the birthing process, you turned around to Jongin and confessed, “Oppa, I’m really scared”.

  “I know but I’ll be right beside you through it.  Just like how I was right beside you during our engagement, during our wedding, during that time you were in the hospital, and during that time you had constipation,” he said and you slapped his arm when he mentioned the last one.

  “Push!” the doctor directed. 

  Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale.  Exhale.  With a deep breath, you gathered all the strength in your tiny frame and pushed.  Sweat trickled down your face and you thought that your veins were going to pop, but you continued to push.  Beside you, your husband continued to ramble on and on about something but you couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying…though still it sounded so beautiful. 

  Visibly exhausted, the doctor suggested for you to take a one-minute break.  So you voluntarily slumped back onto the mattress.  Still holding onto your hand, Jongin massaged your sore body with the other. 

  “Oppa…what did you keep saying earlier?” you asked, weakly. 

  “I was just listing some of your qualities that I want our daughter to inherit,” he explained, “Like your gorgeous eyes, your tiny face, your breathtaking smile, and most of all your strong personality and your willingness to sacrifice for others”.  You stared at him with dreamy eyes.  Why must you give me so many feeeeels??  Even when my vagina is literally broken, my hair is a heap of mess, and my face is probably whiter than that of a ghost????

  “There’s one thing I hope she doesn’t inherit though,” he spoke. 

  “What?” you asked, a little disappointed. 

  Smirking, he leaned into your ear and whispered, “Your D-cups”.

  With a gasp, you punched him in the chest for his naughtiness. 

  “What?” he asked, “I don’t want a million suitors circling around our Yoon-ie”. 

  You rolled your eyes. 

  “Are you ready to push again, ________ssi?” the doctor asked and you nodded. 

  Inhaling in an adequate amount of oxygen, you began to push again.  The pain was so unbearable, you discovered yourself digging your nails into Jongin’s hand.  He doesn’t even wince, instead his grip tightened.  You groaned, begging for Yoona to please, please, please help her mother a bit.  The room smelled like rotten tofu, mixed with blood, mixed with hotdog water. 

  “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.  SOMEONE JUST GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME!” you screamed when a piercing pressure gather on your pelvis. 

  You swore you heard something snap.  The doctors had warned you throughout your pregnancy that your small frame may not be able to handle natural birth but you didn’t like the idea of getting a C-section without even trying.  And by now, after overcoming the intense pain of those contractions, you were determined to complete the birthing process vaginally, even if parts of you broke. 

  “_________ssi!  I see the head, please push a bit harder!” the doctor commanded. 

  Beside you, Jongin sucked in air, his body tensed.  You grunted and pushed with all your might.  Time stopped and everything froze in place.  Staring a few feet before you, with watery eyes, you watched as a tiny pink and wrinkly creature thrashed around in the doctor’s arms. 

  “Waaaa waaaa waaaaaa!” she cried loudly and the cries sounded like music to your ears. 

  You turned to your husband to witness him breaking down in tears at the sight of the newborn baby. 

  “Oppa…” you whispered with a cracked voice. 

  He turned around, immediately caressing your feeble body into his arms. 

  “W-We did it,” you sobbed.

  Cupping your face, he corrected, “Youdid it, Jagiya!  You’re amazing.  You seriously are the most amazing woman on this planet”. 

  You shook your head to deny the compliments. 

  “Congratulations, ________ssi, Jongin-ssi, your baby girl is very healthy,” the doctor said, handing the bundle of joy over to you. 

  Shocked, you waved your hands, “I don’t want to hurt her”.

  Jongin furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean, Jagiya?  You’re not going to hurt her!” 

  Confused, the doctor shrugged then handed Yoona to Jongin’s arms.  The new father stared into the bundle with utmost tender, love, and care.  You strained your neck trying to take a peep.  Sighing, your husband held Yoona up to your hands but you backed away again. 

  “I don’t want to hurt her,” you repeated. 

  “Jagiya, you are not going to hurt her,” Jongin firmly replied to your ridiculous fear. 

  “I...” you started but before you knew it, your husband had placed the baby into your extended arms. 

  With ceased breathing, you stayed still, fearing that any movement would somehow hurt your daughter.  But when you looked down at her and she had a look that described the epitome of trust and tranquility, you held her up to your lips and kissed her small forehead.  Jongin wiped the tears that trickled down your eyes. 

  “Yoon-ie, Omma waited so long to meet you.  Thank you so much for trusting me these nine months, please continue to let me take care of you for the rest of your life,” you spoke, kissing her cute little nose. 

  She smiled back at you, causing both Jongin and you to giggle like the proud parents you were.  From the doorway, your parents and your in-laws filed in to take a glimpse of the little miracle in your arms.  And when the nurses came in to take Yoona for a check up, you discovered yourself already attached and hesitating to hand her over.  So you waited anxiously for the nurse to return, even when doctors suggested for you to get some rest. 

  “I just want to say ‘Good Night’ to her before sleeping,” you proposed when Jongin tried to lull you to sleep. 

  With a sigh, your husband nodded and waited with you for an hour before they brought her back so you could give her a good night kiss.      

        a/n: Welcome to the world, Kim Yoona :D now go play with Youngwoo hehehehe.  <3 shipping babies

  Hope you guys enjoyed this crazy chapter!  Mad respect for all the mothers of this world :3

----

  I just finished rereading The Lucky One.  Omg.  Who wrote that story?  She hit me right in all my feels.  ~the awkward moment when you’re sobbing in front of your computer reading your own story~  I was so good at keeping my tears in until Chapter 14 – specifically this paragraph:

  “Youngwoo-yah, when you grow up, you will have no memory of Omma,” you started, blinking away your tears to look at your baby clearly, “but Omma will be thinking of you for every second for the rest of her life”.

If you recall back in Chapter 5 of TA2, when the main girl first babysat Youngwoo and he cried for no reason…and she said something that precisely correlated to that paragraph in TLO:

“You miss your Omma, don’t you?” you heard your voice whisper. 

The baby responded with softer cries.

“Do you even remember her?” your voice cracked.  Will my baby remember me if I left?  Will Oppa long for me as much as Sehun longed for his wife? 

The weeps lessened. 

“What is her name?  How did her voice sound like?  Which parts of you mirror her?  How about her scent, do you remember that?” you asked, your voice empty of emotions.

Silence answered you.

    ~cries~ right in the feels