#kyran is just tired

[she-who-paints-with-fire]

FIRST OF EIGHTEEN THOUSAND BLADES

Mechs. Mechanized Cavalry. Cavalry.

It's said that so long as there is war, there will be cavalry. Sure, a rapid-response force capable of harrying enemy flanks or punching holes in the line is always tactically useful, but it goes deeper. The bond between the rider and the mount is ingrained into the human psyche, too deeply to ever be forgotten, too snugly to ever be excised.

King Jan III Sobieski flexed the fingers of his spear-hand, listening closely to the clinking of the metal rings, just barely audible over the low rumble of his horse and his hussars.

Metal jingled as one of his attendants rode closer. He did not visibly react--as befitting a king. "Vienna is close, my lord."

"How far?"

"Our scouts can see the city. They report that the walls look to be in poor condition."

"Hm." The King of Poland took a moment to consider his options.

Haste might tire everyone out too quickly, but it gives the enemy time... but, I'd rather keep everyone fresh and ready for battle.

[Orders?]

"Keep the same pace," Sergeant Sasha 'Jadwiga' Bonifacia ordered. "Alert me when we're within five kilometres."

[Of course.]

Even though Sacred Symbol was, technically, part of Karateka's Monarch, she provided tactical information for the entirety of the squad on occasion. Jadwiga appreciated that, even if having two handlers felt a bit strange at times.

"Highground, what's the city looking like?"

"Rough shape. Fighting is still just in the outer suburbs, but Barbarossas are being brought up by Kyran forces. The KRA could begin shelling within ten minutes. I'd recommend you hustle, Team."

Jadwiga flexed the fingers wrapped around her mech's throttle and grimaced, weighing her options.

"Let's pick up the pace."

"Understood," the attendant nodded. Jan III drummed his spurs into his horse's sides and picked the pace up to a canter. His soldiers followed suit. The gentle rumble of cavalry grew in strength.

Seventy-six thousand cavalry. Jan III Sobieski knew the strength of his force well; he'd agonized over it for long hours in his tent. Seventy-six thousand cavalry. Eighteen thousand of the finest Polish soldiers, six thousand of his winged Hussars among them. He'd taken the nearby village easily--victory was near-assured. Still, he felt caution was a virtue.

Sun gleamed off the polished spearheads of the hussars as their king led them from the treeline. Jan could hear cheers from onlooking infantry.

Jadwiga took a long breath in.

"Half a kilometre to the Barbarossa convoy. Observer managed to get them to take the bait. They're coming to you."

"On my order," she murmured into her comms. The infantry beside her nodded and prepared anti-armor launchers, flicking off safeties and resting them against the edge of the small trench. Jadwiga could barely see them through the camouflage netting.

"Four hundred metres."

Karateka warmed up her Monarch's engines. Gentle red flames licked at the boosters, making the air shiver around them like a mirage. Cherry blossoms wrapped around her mech's bone-white armor plating, painted on one-by-one, making the entire being look like a porcelain sentinel as it sat like a stalking tiger.

"Three hundred meters."

Across the way, Protector's Everest was crouched, Assault Rifle braced against an overturned car. Her mech wasn't as ornate as Karateka's; she made do with simple olive and standard grey. The most colorful aspect of her mech were the sangria-red plates that covered her mech's eyes, inner shoulders, and inner thighs. It complemented the olive nicely.

"Two hundred meters."

Jadwiga knew that far above the battlefield, Highground was watching the team via a datalink. She also knew that Highground and Sacred Symbol were in constant communication with one another. She knew that Observer was likely fine, and retreating to draw the Barbarossas towards their prepared ambush. This, of course did not stop her from worrying.

"One hundred meters."

Jadwiga watched the mechs marching into the killzone. Barbarossas, sure enough, with Kyrian Royal Army heraldry and kingly insignia mounted like sashimono banners on their backs. They were colossal, lumbering beasts, mighty and slow.

Karateka's thrusters spun up. Protector adjusted their sights. Observer's Death's Head vanished from sight and scuttled into cover.

"Ancestors, watch me, for I will honor you with this act," Jadwiga whispered. She keyed her mech's loudspeakers. Drew in a breath to shout.

The low rumble of cavalry marching built, built, built, built, built, until it was the roar of thunder, the peal of lightning, divinity upon the battlefield. It was unrelenting. Irresistible. Unstoppable. An army of kings, a tide of fire, steel and feathered wings. At its head rode Jan III Sobieski, King of Poland, leading eighteen thousand blades in the largest cavalry charge the universe would ever see.

Jadwiga could not hope to match it, but she could try.

Cavalry. Mechanized cavalry. Mechs.

"ALL LANCERS, CHARGE!"

[vivi-rosexx]

mundane headcanons for yhs

-kyran has dry ass eyes

-never leaves home without his eye drops

-funneh has to slice up time

-it’s not twenty minutes it’s five minutes four times

-and she just keeps slicing it up till its time

-bonus: when she’s done with a times test and isn’t allowed to nap, she’ll count down the last five minutes by drawing circles

-six rows of ten circles five times

-idk of that makes sense anywaya

-alec has to repeat “righty tighty, lefty loosey” to himself whenever he has to screw something in or out

-gold is the queen of matching socks

-a load of laundry hates to see her coming

-if evan is near some time of instrument, whether he can play it or not, he’s gotta try to

-drums, tamborine, bass, violin, etc. it doesn’t matter he’s attempting to make some kind of noise w it

-valerie had a habit of dotting her i’s with hearts but once she started dating kai her handwriting goes full put heart mode

-just the swirliest of swirls on her l’s and h’s and if she’s writing kai’s name she’s dragging the tail of the i to make a small heart

-celeste has to straighten up her tires.

-it does not matter if they are in a literal getaway, when she parks the car it is perfectly in the lines and the tires are straight

-whenever felicia chips her nail polish she just paints over it

-kyran’s got a fast metabolism and it does not take much to tone his arms and stomach, all that

-but i think he was a chubby-ish kid im not sure dont quote me on this

ok thats it

[nonam-vi]

My Alec Huntsman Characterization

With how similar Alec's and Yumi's home lives are kinda, it's a bit tricky for me to put everything down onto paper while still making them distinct + make sense, but taking inspiration from my own real life issues and experience with living with a dysfunctional family, I think I might have something for him.

Let's see here...

When Alec was young (think 8-10 years old) his mother started coming home very late after doing, god knows what. Sometimes she'd even be gone for days, weeks at the worst. Leaving him and the rest of his family to worry, and stress about where she had gone to.

As a result of this she would start to oversleep and miss work, later on losing her job, giving even her more reasons to be self destructive. Basically neglecting Alec and Aly, only when their wasn't dad around. This left Alec having to step up as Aly's parental figure with their dad working all the time, cooking breakfast and helping her with homework, sometimes even neglecting his own life in favor of her's. Because in his mind, she actually has a chance.

This took a LARGE toll on Alec's mental and emotional state, leaving him tired and irritated most of the time. As a way to cope with all this inner turmoil, Alec started to throw himself into his work. Oftentimes working overtime, just so he'd have a reason not go back home. So he wouldn't have to think about his issues. So he wouldn't have to think about anything at all.

He never wanted to distance himself from his friends. Not at all. He's just been so busy taking care of his family, working after school to help provide for them, doing so much for them that he'd prioritize them over all else, that when Kyran had confronted him about everything had-

Exploded.

All the anguish, all the pain, all the anger, he wasn't ALLOWED to feel because of course he wasn't allowed to, it was his RESPONSIBILITY as a good son, he had to do this, Kyran just doesn't understand, why would he? He has everything, STILL has everything. Why him? Why? Why why why-

Kyran, stopped talking to him after that.

Alec mourns. He mourns the days where he could walk into the dining room at night and be met with his family, eating and laughing. Instead of coming home (at 2 AM) met with a dark, quiet house, Aly the only one asleep inside her bedroom. With no parents to be found.

At least, he still has her.

If only he was a better brother, a better son, a better man. If only.

[iwhumpyou]

BTHB: Hurts to Breathe

Rose - requested, Origami Rose - filled.  Anyone can request any square, any character, any universe.

The second half of @whumpedupvesper​‘s request.

Masterlist.  Kyran.

Bedside Vigil.

~#~#~#~#~#~

His breaths were agonizing. That was the very first thing he registered, before everything else came filtering back into his head, and it was really nothing more than he expected – between an angel who never snapped his wings back in and several distinctly unfriendly glares, he had long since gotten used to being short of breath, to burning as he forced his lungs to take in breaths despite the suffocating pressure and the lightheadedness and the ringing in his ears.

And it had only gotten worse after the cave, with magic still slipping against his fingers and nothing to brace against the pressure, to stop the panic catching in his throat and –

Elizabeth, sneering. Gabriel, snarling.  A punch, and it was so much more than physical pain. The weight on him, the panic clawing against his veins, the magic that wouldn’t come, the pressure that became all too real as fingers closed and his windpipe was inexorably crushed and those dark, hate-filled eyes –

Kyran startled up, gasping, his fingers flying to find pressure that didn’t exist, grasping his neck to assure himself that the constricting bands were only in his mind.

His neck was bare, but every breath felt like fire.  His ribs were unbroken, but pressure contracted around his lungs.  There was nothing stopping him from breathing – nothing except memories, years of them, of hateful eyes and sneers and restrained power just waiting to snap.

Dark eyes, a clouded face – no wings, but he flinched back all the same, because the last time he’d seen this particular angel, he’d been dying.

He could still feel the fingers around his throat – not a memory, not a bruise, no, he could still feel them, and he had to grasp his neck himself to make sure that it wasn’t real.

“You’re awake,” Gabriel croaked.  He sounded like he’d been choked, his voice raspy and hoarse.  But there were no dark bruises around Gabriel’s neck.  And magic still bled dully inside Kyran, sparking at his touch, and there was no way Kyran could’ve fought an angel without magic.

“No thanks to you,” Kyran said in a voice that sounded like crushed gravel, and Gabriel flinched at the blow.

Actually, now that Kyran was paying attention, Gabriel looked horrible.  He was slouched in the chair, his skin waxy and his eyes rimmed in darkness, and he stared at Kyran like he couldn’t move.  In all fairness, Kyran felt worse, but it wasn’t a competition.

“It was a hex,” Gabriel said haltingly, “Rae destroyed it.”

Kyran took a deep breath and let it out, abruptly exhausted.  “Of course it was,” he murmured, sliding back into bed.  He kept an arm curled around his neck.

Gabriel didn’t move as Kyran slipped back into sleep.

~#~

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to confusion and an eerie sense of timelessness.  The sun shining through the windows had shifted to the shadowy light of dusk, but Gabriel hadn’t moved an inch.  He sat with the same slouched posture, hands twisted together, staring at Kyran.

“You’re awake,” he said again, as though he’d decided to take on the job of stating the obvious.

Kyran didn’t feel awake. Kyran felt like he was trapped in a dream.

He couldn’t breathe. He could hear the gasping breaths, could feel his chest rise up and down, but he couldn’t breathe.

He closed his eyes.

~#~

Gabriel had moved this time, though not by much.  The chair had been adjusted to afford a better view out the window, even though Gabriel was still staring at him.  His hair was damp and he looked tired.

It was the last that sparked the rage.  Gabriel had no right to be tired.

“Get out,” Kyran said, levelly, steadily, neutral if they both ignored how his voice couldn’t rise beyond a rasp.

“Kyran,” Gabriel started.

“Get out,” Kyran said, and he didn’t have the energy to make the words hurt.  He didn’t have the energy to enforce them.

Gabriel sighed and stood up and walked out.

Kyran took a deep breath.

~#~

Rae was next.  She was waiting for him when he woke, and she handed him a glass of water to soothe his throat.

Gabriel hadn’t given him water.  Gabriel had perhaps assumed, rightly so, that Kyran would never take a glass of water from him again.  As it was, Kyran dipped a finger in it to ensure it was truly just water before he drank it.

“It was a hex,” she said. Kyran hummed.  “We destroyed it.”  Kyran focused on taking small sips.  “Lilith and I have been focused on building better wards.”

Of course.  Because Kyran couldn’t, because he was useless now that he couldn’t do magic.

Rae took the glass from him when he was done.

~#~

Adam looked terrible, even worse than Gabriel had, and Kyran blinked at him, confused, before it dawned on him.  The witch. The puppet.  The control they’d exerted over Adam, until the blood of hundreds stained his hands.

No, Adam wouldn’t have taken kindly to magic controlling his movements once again.

They had nothing to say to each other, but Adam looked slightly better when he could see Kyran, could reassure himself that the demon wasn’t dead, and, if nothing else, Kyran knew that Adam hated being controlled far too much to do it to someone else.

It was not impossible to breathe with Adam in the room, but it was still difficult.

~#~

Lilith chattered. About magic, about her day, about what she’d eaten for her last meal – when she’d eaten, however, she did not mention – about the leaves outside the window. She brought him water, and food, and books.  She didn’t want a response to anything she said, which was the only reason her presence was tolerable.

She didn’t mention the hex. She didn’t mention Gabriel.  But her eyes never strayed long from the bruises around his neck.

~#~

He hadn’t expected to see Elizabeth at all.  He barely knew her – once the warrior princess that had massacred his people, then the tragic martyr.  A death he’d carried – no, not carried.  It had never been his to carry.  But it hounded at his heels, no matter how far or fast he ran, and when he thought he was safe it would snap at him again.

He would never forget Gabriel’s eyes, wide with horror and terror and grief.

He had made himself into a monster for this woman, for the sake of her death, for all the people she’d left behind.  And he had no idea who she was.

Elizabeth had haunted him for years, but the truth of it was that she had never known who he was.  He’d been shackled to her murder, had cursed her name and life and death, but she had never even heard his name.

“Do you want some water?” she asked.  A princess’ courtesy, polite but distant.

“No.”  He didn’t know her.  He didn’t trust her.  And whatever else she claimed, she had been Zane’s sister once.

She merely nodded, as though that was perfectly reasonable.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Kyran couldn’t stop his eyebrows from raising.

“Excuse me?” he rasped.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, still polite, “You’re not a piece of trash, or scum.  I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It was the hex,” Kyran said hoarsely, eyeing her with suspicion, “Not you.”

“The rage was the hex,” Elizabeth said, her tone steady, “The words came out of my mouth.  For that, I’m sorry.  You should not have had to hear that.”

He stared at her.  He had not expected that.

He also did not fail to note that hers was the first apology he’d heard.

“You’re healing very slowly,” she said, and he’d seen it on everyone’s faces when they looked at him, when they skipped from gray skin to the bruises he could still feel to the exhaustion he couldn’t hide.  “I was under the impression that demons healed faster than this.”

Kyran had been under the same impression.  But wielding magic still hurt and the exhaustion had settled into his bones long before he’d been choked by Gabriel.  Long before Elizabeth had burst into being.  Long before everything, because he couldn’t remember a time when he was not tired.

“I can’t breathe,” he confessed.

Her face went sharp as he swallowed, bringing a hand to his throat.  “I can’t – I don’t know what – it hurts,” he said, and his chest burned with every gasp, “I can’t breathe.”

“What do you need?” Elizabeth asked, still princess-soft, but there was steel in her tone and determination in her eyes.  Her posture had straightened and she looked at him expectantly – a warrior, awaiting orders, a strategist, seeking information.  A queen, who could not solve the problem unless she knew what it was.

Kyran thought about it. His throat constricted and his lungs seared and he thought about the way Gabriel filled the room and tightened the pressure around his ribs and the way Rae’s gaze felt like an iron on his chest and Adam’s haunted gaze twisting something inside Kyran and Lilith and the way her words never seemed to give him space to take a breath.  He thought about Elizabeth, the living proof that he did not kill her, and Gabriel, who choked on guilt and stayed in silence. He thought about breathing.

“I need to leave,” he said. Something in her face shifted.  “I cannot stay here.  I cannot breathe here.”

“Will you be safe?” she asked.  There was no skepticism in her tone, no doubt, no judgement, but the weight of her gaze was heavy.

Kyran dredged up a smirk. “I lived many years after your death, princess,” he said, “I am not that easy to kill.”

She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she watched as he levered himself out of bed, wincing as the movement pulled at bruises and sore muscles. She followed him as he stumbled out of the room and down the steps.  The house was dark and silent.  She watched him as he stepped outside, taking a full, deep breath of the chill night air.

“Remember,” she called after him, her voice calm and sure, “Remember you can always come back.  Whenever you like.”  He turned back to stare at her.  “This is still your home.”

No.  This was never his home.  But he appreciated her words all the same.

“I’m glad I didn’t kill you, princess,” he smiled, and he kept walking.

It still hurt to breathe, but it was getting easier.

[tearlessrain]

there’s seeing a flaw as soon as you post something and then there’s looking at something you posted weeks ago and thinking “how could I have let that out into the world looking the way it does”

[redvelvetpdf]

Name: Ferelith Pronouns: She/Her Gender: Cisgender Female Sexuality: Aromantic Asexual Species: Elf Race: Greek MBTI: ISTP-T (Turbulent Virtuoso) Moral Alignment: Lawful Good

Some things about Ferelith:

Kyran's best friend

She's one of the lieutenants of Kyran's parents' army. She hopes to be the captain someday

Her parents and the king and queen all want her to be Kyran's lady-in-waiting, but through her hard work, she maintains her lieutenant post

It goes against her nature to be obedient, though she tries

Dark academic

She loves to read, and reads a lot

Dresses feminine and likes fashion (is very good at it too)

Knows how to use most weapons, but is most comfortable with a sword

One of the best fighters in the kingdom

Sick and tired of explaining that she just can't feel attraction

Very brave and has a sense of honor

Also kind of insecure

Very organized but not punctual

Overthinks way too much

Justice and fairness are very important to her

[hoshizorax]

sometimes he wished that it would swallow him whole and he would no longer exist. that demon lingered within him and played with his emotions. he was tired and in pain in a way that nothing could help him. the alcohol, the temptation of the flesh--it would only stave off the pain before it was back again the next morning. he hated himself but he couldn't let it show. couldn't let what was inside him know just how much he hated himself. it wasn't like it would let him go that easily. he had tried before and it was the worst feeling in the world.

he would burn the world down for this woman should she ask him to. worship the ground she walked on, kiss her feet, utter her name like a prayer. kyran had been lost for a long time but he was always found the moment he was with her. fingers trembling as she touched him. as she saw what was within him that he had kept hidden. if the church knew, he was certain they would take necessary measures and this demon that dwelled within would only take him with it. their essence was so tightly wound that if he were to be exorcised, it would only mean certain death for himself. it was terrifying to think about.

life had never given him the best cards in life. enduring pain and suffering. the only people that had ever given a damn about him were gabriella and her brother. things had definitely changed since the days they were all children playing in the street. causing havoc amongst themselves. he missed those days. maybe if he had more courage, he would have planted his foot down and his path and life wouldn't be like this. though, a part of him knew that he would have simply made the same choices all over again.

his eyes had shifted to look at her. he could feel that presence again nearby and it was an unpleasant feeling. as if slime had covered his flesh. even the demon within was not fond of this feeling as though the growls that echoed in the room weren't obvious enough. "i don't want you to be alone, gabriella, but i can't just leave this house. i can't let someone else be subject to this. i'm useless but damn if i'm not going to prevent someone getting hurt.." he let out a breath he had apparently been holding in and looked at the mirror again.

"i think we should let go of the masks and face what is haunting us. we're both tired and.. i know it might be stupid.." but they weren't going to get anywhere if they just ran and hid every time they were scared. they would get nowhere. maybe they could learn to accept what was within them. it would be risky, but he was willing to try anything to get peace.

hearing her say she loved him, it brought a warmth to him that he couldn't exactly explain. his body fully turned to her and his arms wrapped around her. "we'll figure this out together and i will protect you, okay? that is all i can promise. just.." he went silent as he looked at her before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips. parting and pressing his forehead to hers. "don't leave me.."

She had been holding her breath without realizing it, the air in the room too thick, too heavy with his words. His confession hung between them like the weight of a storm, its gravity pulling at her, dragging her down into the depths of everything she didn’t want to face. It was like looking at a wound that had been festering for years—one they had both ignored because it was easier to pretend it wasn’t there. But now it was laid bare, raw and bleeding, and there was no turning away from it. Her eyes shifted to the mirror. She didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see what he saw, but her gaze was drawn to it anyway, almost against her will. The glass seemed darker now, the firelight catching on its surface in strange ways, distorting the room in faint, rippling shadows.

And there he was.

Kyran’s reflection wasn’t just him—it was more. There was something twisted in the way it loomed, something that felt too large, too present. The witch could see the faint outline of claws where his hand rested against the glass, and the reflection of his face seemed wrong, like it was too sharp around the edges. But it wasn’t just malice. When the reflection’s gaze shifted toward her, there was something softer there—something that almost looked like longing. It sent a shiver down her spine, but it wasn’t fear. Not exactly. Her heart clenched as his words replayed in her mind. He had laid himself bare for her, exposed the darkness he carried in a way she knew wasn’t easy for him. And now he was standing here, ready to let her go if that’s what she needed, even if it destroyed him.

It wasn’t fair that he thought he had to bear all of this alone, that he thought he had to protect her from himself, that he believed he wasn’t worth staying for. Her gaze flickered to her own reflection—and her breath caught in her throat. It was her. But it wasn’t. The edges of her reflection rippled like water, and for a moment, she thought it would stop there. But then it twisted, shifted, and changed. Her skin darkened, shadows curling beneath its surface like smoke trapped in glass. Her eyes turned black, endless and hollow, swallowing the light of the room. And her smile—it stretched too wide, sharp and predatory, her teeth glinting like daggers.

She stumbled back a step, her hands trembling at her sides. The reflection stared at her, unblinking, its head tilting slightly as if it were studying her. It didn’t move to mimic her. It didn’t follow her motions. It simply watched, its gaze burning into hers, and in that moment, she felt seen in a way that made her stomach twist. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The mirror held her in its grip, forcing her to confront the thing she had tried so hard to bury, the thing she had spent her entire life running from. This wasn’t the scared, lost little girl she had tried to leave behind. This was something worse. This was the part of her that had whispered in the forest that night. The part that had screamed for vengeance, that had reveled in the blood, that had wanted them to suffer. And it was still there. Gabriella’s breathing grew shallow, her chest tightening as the reflection’s smile widened, its void-like eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

This is who you are.

The thought came unbidden, sharp and cold, cutting through her like a blade. She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That’s not me.” But the reflection didn’t falter. It just watched her, that horrible smile never fading, as if daring her to keep denying it. She tore her gaze away, her shoulders trembling as she took a step closer to him. She couldn’t look at the mirror anymore. She couldn’t face it. Not now. “Kyran…” Her voice broke, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. He was still pressed to the glass, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched under the weight of his own torment.

The witch could feel it now—the heaviness in the room, the oppressive weight of everything they were both carrying. They had both been running for so long, from themselves, from each other, from the darkness that had shaped them. And now, standing here together, it felt like there was nowhere left to run. “I see it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I see it too.” Her fingers tightened slightly against his arm as she swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. “You think letting me go is the right thing to do. That you’re protecting me. But you’re not, Kyran.”

Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to continue. “You’re not protecting me by pushing me away. You’re just leaving me to face this alone. And I can’t do it. I can’t.” She stepped closer, her hand sliding down to take his. His fingers were trembling, clawed and inhuman in the reflection, but she didn’t pull away. “You think you’re the only one who’s tired?” she said softly. “The only one who’s scared of what’s inside you? You’re not.” Her gaze flickered to the mirror, but she forced herself to look back at him, to focus on him. “You’re not the only one who wears a mask, Kyran. You’re not the only one who’s afraid of what will happen if it slips. I’ve been running from myself my whole life. And you know what? It’s killing me.”

Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “You say you’re tormented. That you’re not the same person I used to know. Well, neither am I. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I can’t lose you too.” She squeezed his hand, her voice soft but steady. “I don’t care what’s inside you. I don’t care how dark it gets. I know who you are, Kyran. I know who you’ve always been. And I love you—for all of it.” Her shoulders trembled, but she kept her grip on his hand, grounding herself in his presence. “You’re not going to scare me away,” she whispered. “So don’t you dare try.” The mirror rippled faintly behind them, but Gabriella didn’t look. She couldn’t. Her gaze stayed locked on Kyran, her heart pounding as she waited for him to believe her. For both of them to believe her.

[diverse-hearts-ocs-a]

@frozcnlight - plotted starter

It seemed as though the Gods truly had forsaken them. Perhaps they simply never fell under the watchful gaze of such an entity? Not that Chuuya was religious but he’d found himself preying when stuck in those dark rooms, when cut open, when pain would course through his entire body and he’d find himself thinking back to her and the pain she must have gone through. He’d thought he’d killed her - had never imagined for one moment that he’d be reintroduced into the jaws of hell from that very same angel that he’d tried so hard to protect.  That same Angel who was now fighting so hard to maintain their freedom. He couldn’t do much other than a few timed punches and kicks here and there, his new addition to his abilities still not under full control and he didn’t want to strike Miran or Shirase by accident. But did they really stand a chance? They were fighting against not only the mafia but the sick bastard that had hurt them so badly. Twice now in his case. 

Panic was striking his chest. He never used to feel this level of fear. Then again, he’d never thought of those labs, of that man, of that uncomfortable sludge feeling that came when rising out from the depths of sleep and back into the cold steel jaws of pain. None of them wanted to go there and he had a feeling both he and Miran were quite aware that there was an extra face here. They’d pulled Shirase into this mess. Chuuya’s friend and Miran’s old friend from her time on the streets. He’d learned a little more about their relationship since they’d spent months living together now. They’d been foolish to linger here as long as they did...but he was so weak. He was the one to keep holding them back and now it looked as though he’d be the one signing their death sentence. 

Shirase was the first to fall - one of the men having spotted the slight time delay that came whenever he used his astral projection, Chuuya attempting to kick the mobster off his friend as Shirase fell down, only the slight rise and fall of his chest letting them know that he was still breathing. That didn’t do all too much to ease the worry that was flooding him though. Miran was strong but this was Kyran. He knew how to counter them, he knew how to stop them - a point proven as Shirase as dragged out the house and a purple like mist filled the air - Chuuya trying to yell out a warning towards Miran before the world fell into darkness. 

It ached. That sharp pain he’d grown to fear, the pain racing down the length of his spine. With a groan of pain and with more effort than he cared to admit, eyes slowly opened to take in the bleak picture of the fate that his tired mind had been trying to convince him was not waiting for him. Slowly, hands were placed on either side of the cold cot he laid on, the thin blanket doing little to conceal the chill of the metal below, the thin gown he now wore doing little to trap any remaining heat that may linger inside these white walls. Panic was rising but a few deep breaths were taken, Chuuya jumping down from his ‘bed’ and over to the other sleeping figure in the room.  She looked so peaceful. It was almost a shame to wake her. Asleep, she’d be unaware of what was happening, where she was, what was going to happen next. Miran was - she may have changed but he stilled cared so much for her, even after everything to have happened since their reunion... she was trying to change, trying to be her own individual self. It wasn’t her fault that Kyran had tracked him down...that was partly his fault for showing off with his ability so much. 

“...miran...”, he paused to clear his throat. Fear was threatening to take grip already and he had only just woken. If he wanted to be there for her this time then he needed to get his act together. Could he though? Could he really be of any help? To either of -  Where was Shirase!? The sudden thought had him shaking Miran’s arm to try and jolt her awake quicker, eyes scanning the room for any sign of another body - which was impossible given how small the room was. There was just about enough space between the two cots to allow one adult to stand to the side of either one - it was otherwise rather cramped feeling. “Miran!”, so much for trying to remain calm. His heart was racing, mind trying to compete with it, trying to think on a reason as to why Kyran might find Shirase useful, might keep him alive. He had to hold onto that hope - as selfish as it may seem to others. He couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t.  “Miran...you need to wake up...Shirase has...”. He didn’t need to say anything else as the scream to fill the otherwise silence of the room - other than the low hum of the lights - wasn’t hard to guess just who it came from, Chuuya’s heart truly feeling as though it may burst through his chest at any moment, all desires of being brave falling away as he pressed himself against the wall, sliding down to hold his head in his arms, trying to block out the delayed screams that seemed to echo around their small prison.  “I cant...I can’t...I can’t...”

[sheabutterskyes]

The Mask of White Waters

XLIII | Clarity | Part 2/2

Content warning: Blood, Violence, 

–

There were three Envisioners standing around a small fire, voices low, but energy tense. Two men and one woman – each of them tracing sigils in the loosest layer of dirt, and none of them aware that they were being watched.

Caia was unable to identify if there was a warden present. They all wore similar and ordinary clothing, scarfs hiding any identifying marks on their necks.

A night-bird’s call echoed through the make-shift camp once, and then twice before someone looked around and nudged their companion.

“Hear that?” she asked quietly.

“Why are you spooked? Never seen a masked warrior?”

All three of them had straightened up now, but none amused.

“That was a joke… even Marlowe hasn’t seen one.”

The second man shook his head.

Caia waited for a third call before breaking a branch over their knee and tossing it towards the humans.

The panic was instantaneous in two of them, the pair stumbling into each other before summoning power to their fingertips.

The other, Marlowe, slowly turned to face Caia’s direction.

If there was a warden among the group, it was him.

A branch was thrown from the other side of camp, and the pair once again startled and changed directions.

Marlowe did not move.

Caia nodded at that, and began to move away, disregarding their hiding spot. They moved slowly at first, waiting for the Envisioner to catch sight of them.

By the time he had decided a course of action, the others had already been lured away, recklessly throwing out their powers.

Marlowe cursed beneath his breath, looking back towards his comrades, and then back at Caia before turning his back completely to the masked warrior and racing to get the others.

He was smart. Though this now left Lueth outnumbered.

Caia quickly went to accompany them, finding one of the Envisioners bleeding on the forest floor along the way.

They almost hesitated.

Almost.

They should have known that when it came to Envisioners it would not be so straightforward to simply lead them away and end it there.

When Marlowe found his last remaining comrade, she was shivering.

“Kyran was supposed to be meeting us out here. What if he gets caught alone?”

He reached out to grab her shoulder, “Kyran will be alright… where is Domenic?”

She shrugged his hand away, “They got him.”

Her hoarse voice was nearly a whisper, yet rang loud and clear to Caia.

The Envisioners fell silent.

Lueth’s voice was the next thing they heard.

“If we push them slightly closer to the village, they will likely turn back for the night.”

Caia nodded, “Good. Push them.”

Lueth was fast and nimble and all but silent. Caia could hardly follow their movements... until Marlowe had decided enough was enough. There were sigils forming around his feet, glowing as if the very heart of the earth was becoming exposed. It shined in his eyes before he uttered a single word and threw his hands towards the surrounding darkness.

Trees snapped, birds took to the sky, and Caia saw how Lueth had barely escaped being hit.

Perhaps Lueth was fast, but that had been too close.

Caia removed their mask.

The branches scratched at their face, the ground beneath their feet uneven and slippery from damp leaves. Every other step, the night erupted with light and energy, and Lueth was no longer the hunter, but the hunted.

Caia quickened their pace, attempting to get to Lueth and pull them away. The Envisioner’s methods were familiar. This was a warden they were dealing with.

Somehow, the two Envisioners had closed in, and Lueth had begun to slow down just enough to be knocked back a time or two.

Caia hesitated behind a large tree, catching Lueth’s gaze.

The moment they took a breath they felt a new rise of energy in the air, and pushed away from the tree, grabbing onto Lueth roughly, throwing them down to the ground just as a powerful torrent caught Caia and sent them crashing into a tree.

They hit the ground and rolled over, scrambling to their hands and knees only to be hit again. The pain was not as harsh as they recalled, even as blood dripped down onto their hands as they pushed themselves back up.

The warden was close now, yet there was no anger in his energy.

It was not until he turned away in surprise that Caia realized there had been a furious ringing in their ears drowning out the sounds around them.

They glanced around for any sight of Lueth as they shakily got to their feet.

“Stop!”

The new voice was the first to greet them as the ringing subsided.

Marlowe held his hands out in warning, which did not stop the person from approaching. The man all but crashed into the warden as he immediately caught sight of Caia.

There was a moment of clarity as they stared back. But it was quickly lost to confusion and a wave of weariness as they stumbled onto a sigil in the dirt, one that had likely been placed there earlier.

It was a heavy, tired feeling that pulled them back down to the ground.

“Don’t kill them,” the newcomer pleaded.

“Kyran,” the warden started.

Caia blinked, feeling themselves fading.

“I can’t, I can’t let y-you.”

There was an extended silence, and when the warden replied, they could not make out the words. All they knew for sure before fading completely, was that the Envisioners were moving away from them.

--- ---

TG -> @alwolfe​

[chaos--mode]

she doesn't miss the way Kyran hesitates. and she hadn't really meant to fool him ( only sort of, just for fun ) , but now she's thinking it might be easier than she thought. maybe she'll be able to shirk all of her camp chores from now on. and wouldn't that be quite the development?

it's something for her to think on, surely. better than dwelling on all the doom and gloom surrounding them at any given moment. she's really rather tired of wondering when her bones are going to snap and her insides liquify, or whatever it is that happens during ceremorphosis. she doesn't want to think about it.

Ren grins at Kyran's question, and it's all teeth and edges. ❝ yeah, sure, three dragon ante. ❞ in all honesty it doesn't really matter what it is they play ; Ren's killer at just about any card game you could think of, and that's when she's not cheating ( which she is also remarkably good at ) .

❝ how about this ; you do the fire and i'll teach you how to cheat the game, and then you'll know how to win for next time. ❞

“hmmmm  ...”   a distinct,  purposeful tremor of doubt edged at his voice.  he could admire the effort for trying it,  he guessed. he'd set the fire only a couple of nights ago,  right?  then gale,  then lae'zel.  or something like that.  time started to lose meaning to him.  the only time that really mattered was getting the parasite out,  though he had a sinking understanding that all of them ought to have changed by now.  the healer's words at the druid grove pounded in his mind.  should be a whole army of mind flayers by now.  

“play for it?”  kyran frowned.   “like   ...  like,   three dragon ante?”   gale had been trying to get him to play the other night.  maybe another time,  he'd said.  he'd never been taught to play.  he'd never had an interest.  he never was a gambler.   “i mean,   i don't really   ...”

[smol-sirens-garden-tobemoved]

@diverse-hearts-ocs​ asked:  ” Don’t give me that look" - Kyran/Chu

He was looking up at him with sorrow and fear. A normal look considering the pain he was currently in. He was too scared to move, all he could do was look up at the other as his arms still burned from the oil that had gotten on him after he fell. A simple mistake landed him here. A mistake that wasn’t even his fault.

“You kissed me! I was distracted by your tongue in my mouth I...” He knew better than to keep speaking out but he couldn’t help you. “It’s just food. It shouldn’t be a big deal when more can be made or ordered. It’s not like I wanted it to burn. I just wanted to do something nice.”

A soft sob escaped as he reached up to hold his face and curl up smaller. He was in pain. He was tired. He was scared. He just wanted tonight to go well but it looked like there was a change in plans.

[gayfanficsanonymous]

The squad sits in an uncomfortable silence; everyone pondering what to do next. Galieo squint his eyes as he makes a decision in his head.

"What?" Kyran asks his uncharacteristically serious friend, "You're staring at the counter like it stole the last cookie."

Galieo wips out his phone and scrolls deep within his contacts.

"I'm making a call to a friend." He finally answers the firey red head. It barely took one ring for someone to pickup. "Marci, Baby~" a sweet smile briefly graces Galieo's face. "Mhmm I know, I know. Listen sweetness, I need a favor." There it was, that serious face; it contrasted the honeyed voice that slipped from his lips. Meanwhile Styx looked at Atticus for an answer. Atticus signs that he doesn't know and shrugs. She turns her head to Kyran who looks as if he was about to laugh. A smug smirk paired with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stared Galieo down.

"Uh huh, thank you Mari. Have a fun night sweetness." Galieo ends his phone call and writes down an adress. He looks up to see Kyran's face and rolls his eyes. "Don't ky-"

"Mari huh? No one else you could have called?" Kyran teases.

"Im doing this to save your ass, the least you could do is hold you mockery."

"Yeah, ookay. sweeetness" Kyran chuckles, "damn you really couldn't drop him could you, is he really that amazing Gay- Leo"

"Yes! Not that your asexual ass would ever know." Galieo smirks, if only for a moment. "Just make sure everything is ready, we're leaving tonight." He orders them all before leaving to the hotel room attached to the one they were in.

hours later

Galieo smiles seeing Styx still passed out. He places his hand on Atticus's to stop him from leaving.

"Let me get those." Galieo picks up the last of the luggage from Atticus. "She's still sleeping peacefully, could you please carry her? I don't want her to wake in my arms and.. start a fight." He request of Atticus who nods. Soon enough all of the boys and Styx are in the van. "We've got a two hour drive ahead of us boys. Behave yourselves." Galieo orders as he pulls out of the hotel parking lot.

two hours later

Styx stretches and guards her eyes from the colorfull lights peaking through her window. "Mm.. where are we?" She mumbles as her door is opened for her. Atticus helps her out of the car. He sighs when he realizes he's going to be used as a human crutch until Styx is completely awake.

"A strip club honey, we had to stop so I could get the key from my friend." Galieo answers truthfully.

"Oh.. okay." She replies slowly, "annnd we had to come why..?" She rubs her eye as the enter the loud building.

"Because they should have the chance to meet their unexpected guests. Better sooner than later." Galieo explains to which Kyran laughs.

"Oh please Leo, you and I both know this mostly because you wanna see your, how'd you say it again? Oh yeah sweetness". Galieo chooses to ignore his brother and talks to a bartender.

"Mhmm Soda Steve. Thank you sweetheart." Galieo waves as the Bartender walks off. "Come on he said to wait over here." He guides the Squad to a small circle that dipped into the floor and was surrounded by couches.

It took Styx a few minutes to comprehend the whole conversation. "Wait what kind of stripper name is Soda Steve?" She asked still in a tired haze.

"Oh thats okay baby," a new sweet and smooth voice approached from behind. An intoxicatingly sweet amorous smell encases Styx as two arms wrap around her shoulders. "I know my name isn't sweet enough for everyone. But-" the stranger unwraps one arm and tilts Styx's head back towards them, "perhaps I could be sweet enough for you?" They wink as a loud and abrupt throat clearing intrudes the moment. The stranger looks up at Galieo and smiles ever so sweetly. With the way he lit up you'd think he had a halo above his head. "Im kidding Honeybee," they chuckled and swayed their way over to Galieo's lap.

"Everyone this is Marcelleen, Marcelleen this is Atticus and Styx. Oh and that snickering demon beside me is Kryan but you already know about him." Galieo introduces the stripper. "We'll be staying at Marci's place for a little while." ~🌌

my heart i- i love this so much-

[musicofglassandwords]

The Final Battle

The tailor’s daughter, the only star

Here to lead, here to scar,

She will scream, be tempted by sin

And in the end, the darkness shall win

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Seth’s blood soaked into her skin, but he was alive.

He was alive, and that was all that mattered. The two of them staggered towards the other guardians, and she gave a cry of relief at seeing them all safe.

Injured, bleeding, but still breathing. Safe.

The council was gathered near them, set on finishing off the last of the Vakas. Ella was certain that they would have to step in soon, but at the moment, they had the rare luxury of a moment of rest. 

“What’s going on?” Kyran said, limping towards them, smearing blood out of his eyes. Despite the fact that he was almost fatally injured, his posture was still as straight as a sword. He stopped, looking at all of them, making sure that they were alright, that all too familiar gesture. 

Ella blinked at a sudden movement behind him, a twisting wayward shadow.

And a deep red slash bloomed across Kyran’s throat.

His eyes widened, and he fell clumsily to the ground, a ghost returned to its body.

Someone screamed, and Ella was sprinting acorss the ground, desperation giving her energy, dragging Seth with her. Pain was nothing; all she felt was blank panic.

Nonononononononononononononono. NO.

The Vaka howled with delight.

“CATCH HER ALIVE!” Prince screamed at them, and in less than a second, Ella had planted her feet on the ground, and twisted up her arms.

Shadows sprang up in a jagged black wave and slammed into the Vaka. Slammed through her, and she soared off unhurt. 

Nothing material could harm this Vaka.

Ella cursed, hating herself, as she tried to summon light to her fingertips once more. Shudders ran through her body, as an arrow of light appeared in her hands. 

Please, please, please, she begged, taking aim in a way she had not done in decades. 

But Sahrina stepped forward, her eyes full of tears, and opened her mouth.

“COMEBACKNODARKSCAREDHELPNOMOREDANCEDREAMHEARTEVEVERYHURTTHORNBLEEDANDIYOUHERHURTHURTHURTHELPNOWNOPLEASEGETBACKDROP!”

Words that the Silencer had stolen over the years poured out of her mouth in an endless torrent.

A roar produced of nightmares, shattering the Vaka’s concentration and she dipped down towards the ground.

Instantly, Nato was there, slamming a dagger through her arm, and dragging her over to Rina, every movement mechanical. 

Rina pressed a hand to the Vaka, and she stilled, her chest rising and falling with breath.

“VALERA!” Prince yelled, his voice harsh and monstrous, “RAISE A BARRIER.”

Red shields of light created a dome around the seven as they gathered around Kyran, who lay on the ground, a puddle of blood slowly seeping into the earth around him. A coffin of stone and scarlet liquid. The council looked at them curiously.

Ella wanted to throw them all into the ocean. 

She paled, looking down at Kyran,  still holding onto Seth, whose eyes fluttered open. Rina rushed to his side, her ahnds shaking,a s she tried to heal him. Ella dropped to her knees, pressing a hand to Kyran’s chest.

His heart was a butterfly tired from the storm, each flap of its wings slower than the next until it fell.

She couldn’t think.

Her mind was empty.

Even the voices were terrified enough to stay silent.

Kyran, fifteen, with his unfamiliar features, his eyes of twilight. Teaching her how to fight, bandaging up her knuckles after every session. Laughing as she told him about her day. 

A hundred years later, still laughing as the two of them danced among the stars, the others around them.

His insatiable focus as he practiced his sword repetitions a thousand times, perfecting his warrior stance.  

The way he had cried when he realized that he no longer hurt when he killed. The hours they had sat up with him, as he threw up out of guilt and sickness.

Decades later, as he stood before them, hand in his indigo hair, confessing that he could not reach his magic.

A boy of scars and dreams.

She could not let him go just yet, not even after a thousand lifetimes of memories.

They would not lose them. 

“He’s dying,” Nato said blankly, “And we cannot do anything.”

“No.”

Prince snapped his fingers sharply, “Rina, take off your restraint.”

Her hand went to her ear, wincing as she felt the torn lobe. “I lost it.”

“Snap Seth’s then. Nat, Val, and I all broke ours. And we are going to save Kyran.”

He was right, Ella realized dimly, the three of them were glowing with a burning power that she had not seen in them for so long. 

A celestial power that had been so long locked away.

“Ella,” he met her gaze, “I need you to go finish off the rest of the Vakas. The council will not be able to finish the battle in the next hour and we cannot risk to Vakas coming at us at once.”

Without a word, Ella stepped out of the barrier, and just as it closed behind her, she saw the pieces of Prince’s plan come together.

As Nato traced a sigil on Kyran’s chest, blessing him with luck, and Prince pressed a hand to the temple of the Vaka.

She shut out the screams and sobs of the Vaka as her life force drained away into the palm of Prince’s hand and ran towards the battle.

The two Vakas were still battling against the entire council who looked at Ella with relief as she charged in. 

Her arm was still broken, her ribs shattered, but she could feel her body trying to heal itself.

The Vakas were in the air, flapping their ghostly wings, a dozen skyals attacking them in the air, dozens more sending up attacks from the ground

“ELI!” Ella screamed at the shapeshifter, vaulting over a pile of rubble, “GET ME UP THERE!”

He shifted into a massive emerald dragon, and she slid onto his back, clinging to his horns as he flapped his mighty wings once, and they sprung into the air.

Ella needed only to finish one of the Vakas, and the last one, she knew that the council was actually capable of defeating. 

They flew higher and higher, until the chill of the air numbed the pain of her injuries.

Kyran, she thought, he will live.

He will.

He will.

That’s why you are doing this once more.

He will live. 

She sprang off of Eli’s back and slammed straight into the Vaka, shocking the elementals who had been battling him, and they sailed through the air. 

The Vaka jabbed Ice cold darts into Ella’s back, and she choked on blood.

Here there were no shadows.

There was only the burning hot sun above them.

The Vaka was as helpless as she was in the tangle of limbs as she fell.

They were both on equal ground.

Ella gasped as the Vaka, ever a warrior, slammed a fist into her face, and felt her cheekbones crack.

No time

No time for fear, no time to hesitate. She pressed a hand onto the Vaka’s face, summoning gold light to her fingertips. 

Something she had not done in so long. 

“BLINDNESS!” she screamed, kicking the Vaka aware from her, as the two of them fell like twin comets towards the ground.

Gold light built up between her hands and shot towards the Vaka, knocking the Vaka closer the ground and Ella watched him fall down to the ground.

And she matched his fall.

Through the air, she fell and fell and fell. 

Out of habit, she had thrown herself into a dangerous situation like this, on the instinctive knowledge that one of the guardians would be there for her. 

Mistakes.

Habits born out of trust would be her doom.  

For this time there would be nobody to catch her.

But the of wind of her fall was cut off as something strangely warm slammed into her, and she found herself on the ground, facing the council, the dead corpse of a Vaka in front of them. 

She looked up, and sobbed. 

“Are you okay?” Kyran asked, as she clung to him as best as she could through her injuries and cried. “i’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, “Thank you for catching me.”

The other came up behind them, and Ella leaned against them for support.

As they stood together and faced the suspicions of the council, unspoken words were communicated between them, to just hold on, and get through the storm.

Soon the council would know about the restraints placed on the guardians so long ago. About how the guardians had been working with only a tenth of their potential power. They would learn about how the guardians’ power had been growing. How Prince had drained the life force of a living creatures and shoved it back into Kyran’s empty body.

The storm of words and war would come.

And they would fight to the death and even after that.

The Seven were ruthless and deadly.

Loving and loyal.

Only to themselves.

Above all, the Seven were only human. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

And thus ends the battle series! This has been a journey!!

Tagging: @lmorasey, @nomadian-novelist, @onthewingsofwords, @feathered-quill, @stories-by-rie @sunlight-and-starskies, @coffeeandcommas @notquitenovelist @whatwasmyprevioususername​ @writingqueensworld  @feathered-inkling @extraisthmus @drowsy-quill @fictional-semantics @dowings @half-explored @writinginrosecoloredglasses @andiwriteunderthemoon @whimsicallytwisted @saxoniowrites @wordsofpaintandsmoke @peggydreadful @a-taleteller @blackcat1400

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

[diverse-hearts-ocs]

He stood in the centre of the room, half wondering if he'd be able to perhaps get access to the one bell that his father kept locked away from him - but maybe he would just need to try and take him out with speed alone. Sighing, he glanced towards Yumeno, placing the weapons away up his sleeves, before walking over to gently wrap an arm around them. "...I'm so darn tired of all of this...I'm so darn tired of making you promises I can't keep either...". Even after sacrificing himself to Kyran's bullshit, had it honestly helped? Wasn't Yumeno still living in fear? Still being forced to be 'useful' to Port Mafia? It was ridiculous - no wonder the child had lost their patience with him.

"If I'm not back in...", he glanced towards a nearby clock, "Let's say thirty minutes - I want you to go to Kouyou's, staying hidden as much as you can. She'll take care of the rest I'm sure...". None of this was a good idea and a part of him was trying to warn him about the consequences that would come with this, if he failed...but even if he didn't. Either way - something had to give.

"If Chuuya returns before I do...well hopefully that won't happen..."

˗ˏˋ *ㅤ★ㅤ‿︵ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆 before they could give their answer to the man. It was pointless anyway; they both knew that Dad was probably being held HOSTAGE by the Boss' work anyway. They often thought that it was purposeful; that it was his way of keeping their Dad out of the family and unable to protect them.

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤWhen they find themselves alone; they found themselves urged to follow and see what their Papa was doing. Starry hues peer through the doorway of his bedroom and catch the familiar glint of KNIVES and BELLS in the man's hand.

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤPerhaps, for once, it was a GOOD THING that their Dad was away.

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ❛ㅤAre you going to ACTUALLY do it this time ?ㅤ❜

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤTruth be told, they doubted their Papa was seriousㅤ—ㅤbut perhaps THIS TIME . . .

[diverse-hearts-a]

@shrimps-variety-garden continued from [X]

Everything was just too much. His entire body ached as the wind blew against his face, ruby eyes gazing down at the ground that was so far below, his mind trying not to think too much about just how resillent to death his body was. Falling from this height had to kill him, it just had to. His healing wasn’t that much improved and if he did survive then maybe he’d bleed out quick enough not to suffer too long. His hands were shaking as he read over the message from Chuuya, tears running down pale cheeks that were already marked with blood, fingers trembling as he tried to think on what to write back. He was sorry for leaving him, sorry that even though Chuuya had done everything he could to make his life better, things had still come to this. Hopefully, one day, he’d be able to forgive him - but he wanted out. He was so tired, so sore. If it wasn’t Dazai it was someone else. Kyran, his father... always someone digging something into his skin, kicking him around or screaming at him for some mistake he made...it was tiring. Everything about being alive was so painful. Apart from him. Apart from Chuuya. Maybe he could break Yumeno out and run off some place with him, and they could just live happily. Chuuya was strong, he could protect him much better than Garth ever had. All he’d ever been able to do was to take half of the pain, to share the pain, to bring his little brother back from death to repeat the same cycle of torment that he’d been trapped in since he was born and took the life of his mother. The door opening behind him caused him to jump, the phone flying out from his hands, ruby eyes watching as the small device shattered on the ground so far below. That was a long fall. Maybe it was tall enough after all. Maybe he’d be able to escape from all this pain. Blood dripped from the edges of his fingertips, from off his jawline and down his back, large gashes cut into his flesh, test out some type of new weapon Kyran was developing - he stopped paying attention at some point. He was pretty sure he’d passed out, able to make a run for it when the blondes attention was elsewhere. “Garth - you won’t survive such a fall. We’ve tested your endurance and - “ “That’s the whole point!”, he yelled back at Kyran, taking a few steps closer to the edge, heart racing quicker as he felt fear try to take a grip on him, try to prevent him from doing what needed to be done. Chuuya did his best, he really did...but maybe Kouyou had always been right. To get a taste for the light when wrapped up in so much darkness - it really did make everything sting just that little more than normal.

[diverse-hearts-moved]

@frozcnlight​ said:

“I promised to look after you and that’s what I’m doing.” { to Chu - reverse!AU \ O \ }

  60 ways to say ‘I love you’ (DW edition)   - Accepting!

He hated this. He hated how weak and tired he was constantly feeling, hated the way that everyone seemed to be tip toeing around him, as though afraid of being snapped at. Like he had the energy for anything close to starting an argument. He wasn’t sure of just all to have happened in that place but something had been done. The two notebooks currently floating around him having automatically jumped at the sound of Miran’s voice was evidence of such a thing. His ability had nothing to do with whatever the heck this was and his chest bore the scars of a surgery of some kind to have been done to him, arms full of small little holes and bruises, thin cuts now and then. He was covered in marks that he did not wish to know the origins of and every time this new ability decided to activate it just helped to remind him of what had happened. But this woman - this person to have stalked him, kidnapped him, tortured him and call him out for his fear - it was Miran. His Miran. The girl he thought so sure had died in that explosion. The death he’d took blame for...and yet she was here. Alive. And though there was a part of him that rejoiced at having her being alive, there was that bigger section of his mind that currently looked towards the woman with fear.

She was the one to have taken him to that place. Of course, they hadn’t known who one another was and no doubt that too was just a part of Kyran’s sick jokes but - she’d been willing to do all that to a total stranger. Why should she suddenly treat him so differently because of the shared history?

“Yeah. You’ve done a wonderful job of that”. He wanted so badly to get rid of this spite that dug into every word to leave his lips but weeks, no months of returning to that hellish world was leaving it’s mark and his thoughts just wouldn’t drift away from - Miran was the one to take him there. He’d risked everything to free her, had thought that he had lead to her death, had carried that fault and guilt for so many years - and all this time she was alive and well and apparently turned into a stranger. Well, a lot of years had passed. “...he’s going to come for us. He’ll keep coming...”, and god he hated the way his heart raced at such a thought, watching as the notebooks finally fell from the air, one landing in his lap that he nervously played with as she stared down at his lap, “What happened to you?”. Who are you? Where is the Miran he knew and loved?