#though i do tend to block most of found heaven from my memory she is a fever dream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keilemlucent · 5 years ago

Text

lavender latte: viii

(M (for now!)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || chapter 7 || chapter 9 ||

masterlist

word count: ~4.7k

realities, huh.

warnings: descriptions of blood and bodily injury, post-traumatic symptoms, panic/anxiety attacks

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oof. wow. here it is, part one of the BIG boy chapter. please mind the warnings on this one!! trauma and post-traumatic symptoms are a big theme in this chapter and the next.

as an author, these have been some of the harder, more vulnerable chapters to create and i hope that the writing shows this :’’’^) all that said, enjoy :’^)

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Keigo was fucked up.

Or he had fucked up.

It was hard to tell the specifics of his predicament, considering how hard he’d hit his head.

‘Hawks’ was known for his speed, his skill, and his ability to finish fights off before they even had a chance to truly start. He prided himself on his prowess, the product of his own diligence and meticulous training. Normally, Keigo kept to these high standards without fail and with faltering.

On the rare occasion he did get injured, it was usually simple scrapes or bruises.

Except, sometimes time, his shortcomings created much more than scratches.

His left arm was twisted the wrong way, wrenched from its socket. His skull ached, hair sticking to the back of his neck and cold.

Keigo blinked slowly, vision tilting and blurry against the asphalt he’d crashed onto. He’d sent his feathers to finish off what was left of the fight, knowing that he was, bodily, down for the count.

It hadn’t started as a large fight, notably. It shouldn’t have gotten so bad. The first alert he’d received just made it seem like petty burglary. Quickly after arriving on the scene, it escalated into an entire firefight spanning several blocks.

He’d been one of the first heroes there, naturally. It wasn’t hard to disarm and pin most of the villains down, but quickly, things got out of hand. Figures forming from the afternoon’s shadows, quickly turning the simple de-escalation into an all-out brawl.

Keigo pushed himself from the filthy ground, coughing up spittle and blood on the blacktop below. It wasn’t from an internal injury, he knew, just a bitten tongue and cheek that made the drippings of his mouth pink and cloudy.

He sat up, forcing himself to his feet as more heroes arrived, finishing the job out of sheer numbers. Mentally, he cursed his mistakes and his stupor. The media circus and bureaucratic bullshit he was undoubtedly going to have to deal with made him audibly groan. Keigo could handle pain without question, but his least favorite parts of his job were the nuts and bolts of it all.

Maybe it was the head trauma or the fact he’d just gotten sloppy lately, but Keigo didn’t even notice the oddly large amount of shattered glass at the scene or the shadows that loomed and weaved without rest nearby, though they never moved to the offensive.

...

You sat on your couch, boot propped up (as usual), and a pillow hugged in your arms.

Typically, you weren’t one to watch the news, but the moment you’d seen the alert from your phone about ‘large scale villain attack- Hawks and Miruko on the scene!, you’d rushed to turn on any channel that had coverage.

Which, creating a sense of dread in your gut, was most of them.

You watched the varying camera angles of the fight, squeezing the pillow tightly in your arms like the pressure would comfort you.

The fear and terror was such a contrast to the absolute bliss of the first couple of weeks of you and Keigo’s relationship.

During that time, your text-based communication hardly changed, still ambiently throughout the day and including the exchange of many memes and well-placed photographs and selfies.

The messages had changed, somewhat, truth be told. There was a sweetness to it, soft, warm, and new. The bantering never stopped, but woven within each of your words were small, tender lines that were new to you both.

Wonderfully new.

You found that Keigo was particularly affectionate over text, but it was nothing compared to him in-person.

You hadn’t really expected him to be clingy. Not based on the way he texted and talked previously and how he was generally portrayed by the public.

But god, was he.

He came over several other nights, always bearing food, drinks, and a bright smile. He wouldn’t even think of settling for the evening in the comfort of your couch (or bed) until you’d been showered in kisses and teasing touches, always seeming hungry, maybe even starved.

He was careful, however, to never go too far or touch too much.

When you two would finally settle on the couch, usually finding yourself strewn over each other in some way, Keigo would continue heaping on affection in any way he could, subtle or otherwise. You returned the gestures, giving your own too.

You craved the heat of his body in the same way he hungered for yours.

You found that, as the nights would wear on, he tended to slip his rough hands under any top you might be wearing, settling his grip on your sides or back. He’d either press and massage, or just ambiently draw shapes. At first, you thought it was some sort of sexual preamble, expecting his touch to drift higher and hungrier.

It took you a night or two of it to realize it wasn’t like that at all—

Keigo just craved contact.

It all made sense, though your revelation surprised you a bi at first.

One night, with his head in your lap, you had simply hummed out, “I never thought you’d be touch-starved.”

Keigo hummed as you ran your nails around the shell of his ear, “Mind elaborating on that one?”

“You’re always touching me when we’re together,” You replied simply, heart squeezing at the little twinges of anxiety you could see forming around Keigo’s eyes. “Not that it's a bad thing— I really love all of it, it’s just sweet. I didn’t think you’d be so affectionate and touchy. I would dare to say, it's cute.”

That comment turned Keigo’s cheeks bright red, though you hardly got much of a chance to tease him about it before he was on you with another wave of soft kisses and squeezes.

Maybe, you were a little touch-starved yourself.

And definitely, surely, falling into each other simply and sweetly felt like heaven.

...

But all of that syrupy goodness was gone, the flavor of it stale and rotten.

All you could focus on was your TV screen as Hawks was being pulled from an alleyway. The camera angle was poor, the quality shaky, but the picture was clear as day to you.

Keigo was walking, barely, most of his weight bared into Miruko’s side. He looked half-dead when he first emerged, limbs twisted painfully and face downcast.

He brightened up a moment later. You weren’t even sure that anyone would’ve caught the change in his expression if they didn’t know him as intimately as you did.

Your chest tightened painfully when he gave his most dashing smile, pearly white teeth stained with blood that was rushing from a wide cut on his forehead. The juxtaposition of him being purely fucked up mixed with the shining expressions he was flashing at the media made your stomach churn with dread.

He’s hurt.

And it seems bad.

You chewed your bottom lip until it ached.

The newscast kept playing, showing the wreckage of the scene, all of the hurt civilians— it was a few cities over, but you swore you could hear the sirens just outside of your window.

You dug around for your phone, typing out a message to Keigo, fingers shaking as you did.

[you]: hey i saw about the attack? how are you doing?

Texting him was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? If you could, you’d call. But based on the way he was reported to have been taken to a nearby hospital, he wouldn’t be answering his phone any time soon.

It didn’t feel like enough, but what more could you do?

You felt uncomfortably powerless.

A very lucid, perhaps cruel part of your mind rang out amid your quiet panic:

Get used to it.

You fell back into the cushions, unable to turn off the screen, though unable to do anything other than watch and churn.

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Keigo didn’t have a great recollection of the day's events after sustaining his fairly significant head injury, not to mention the shattering of the bones in his right arm and a few in his left leg. Not to mention his sorely dislocated shoulder.

Pain blotted things out memory, he knew.

Hospital trips were few and far between for Keigo, but in the unfortunate circumstance he was stuck and strung up with wires and IV tubes, he was more than well taken care of.

He was aware, somewhat, of the Commission’s hold on the scruff of his neck, though complacent in it. His good attitude and impeccable, nearly-perfect performance earned him the best medical care they could provide.

Some sweet girl, a student from the west, was brought in to heal his wounds. Healing quirks of any significance were rare, so it was always interesting to see how they worked and manifested.

The girl’s quirk came at the price of any energy his body had, but he was completely patched up in a number of minutes. Fatigue be damned, he was happy to be quickly and easily put back together. He made sure to put on his best camera-ready smile as the girl traced symbols on the backs of his hands, fingers shaking and shyly smiling.

She was probably starstruck, all things considered. Meanwhile, Keigo was exhausted and out of it.

All through it, all of it, the actual fight and subsequent medical nightmare, he had slipped into a far different mindset than the one he’d been occupying for the last couple of weeks.

Consequently, he hadn’t thought of you at all.

You didn’t even cross his mind.

Keigo could’ve blamed it on hitting his head, but that wouldn’t be entirely fair or truthful.

All the same, the absence would burn later.

...

Keigo flashed a dopey smile to the door of his hospital room when he spotted a familiar puff of bright yellow hair.

Despite his stupor, familiarity still resonated. Besides, his PA stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the greyscale scrubs and antiseptic.

“Akane! I knew you’d never be far in my time of need,” Keigo relaxed against the hospital bed he was still resigned to. He was to be discharged as soon as possible for the bevy of press reports he would had to complete. Not to mention the mountains of paperwork he’d probably have to file and sign.

Akane kept a stern but humored expression as she shooed a nurse out of Keigo’s room. She was shorter than most, face cut with sharp angles and high ridges. They were dressed immaculately as always, a well-tailored black suit with crisp-looking dress shoes. All professionalism, trained and honed by the Commission in a similar way to Keigo, though it was implicitly recognized.

“You’ve got a press conference in thirty with Miruko,” Akane didn’t answer his greeting, though Keigo could tell by their quick nod that it was at least acknowledged. They rolled a small suitcase next to the bed. “Extra hero costume in there. I called your normal hair and makeup, they’ll be in a few minutes after I leave. It’s been a while since you’ve been this injured in a fight, so put on a good show for everyone, won’t you?”

Akane’s sarcasm always brought a smile to his face, contrasting so starkly with their well-pressed hems and seams.

Keigo quickly sat up, dropping his feet to the cold linoleum below, “Always a show.”

He quickly began to re-robe into his new garments, tired mind returning to its trained roots.

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You had been watching the newscast for hours, probably (definitely) against your best interest.

You’d have plenty of time to kick yourself for it later.

You couldn’t stop watching the repetitive footage and bland media, despite the report that ‘Hawks’ was safe, well and receiving treatment.

Until you saw him, you couldn’t rest—- Or that’s what it felt like, anyway.

The image of him bloodied felt painfully etched into the forefront of your mind. The contours and highlights of Keigo’s wounds were uncomfortably bright and hot, nestled next to swirling images of your own. Uncomfortably vivid sensations and colors of your own stitched-up wounds that once wept blood themselves.

If you steeped in it all too deeply or for too long, your breathing would quicken, memories unbridled in the way they sucked down.

Sweat dripping down your brow, you willed your breath even and slowly despite how you definitely were having trouble handling what you were experiencing.

As the evening wore into night, you remained wired.

You convinced yourself, despite the thorns that ran deep, you would be able to rest once you saw Keigo well.

Eventually, there was an announcement for a late press conference, a conclusion to the media frenzy.

You knew you’d stay up for it, no matter how long it took to air. You knew he was fine, it had been confirmed over and over throughout the coverage, but it wasn’t enough.

You just need to see him.

Then you’ll be fine.

Keigo is fine.

No amount of reassurance comforted you. You were sinking too deeply in your throes, ungrounded and crackling within your own fragile mind.

The memories of blood and gore and hot, white fear rolled over you, suffocatingly close to how you’d felt less than a month prior.

On the cold cement floor of the tea shop, you had Keigo’s feather, the knowingness that he would be there.

Yet, now?

You were alone in your dim apartment.

No Keigo.

No villains.

Just you and your skull.

You had to pull yourself back when you felt your quirk begin to activate with your adrenaline, thankful for the low stimulation of your apartment, and the pillow in your arms being exchanged for the plushie Keigo had gifted you. You forced yourself to ground, counting your breaths, and holding yourself together.

(Maybe the trauma of your own run-in was deeper than you wanted to acknowledge.)

You pushed the thought aside as the live footage of the press conference began. It was better to compartmentalize it all, wasn’t it? Why not shove it back where it was easier to not deal with? You’d get a therapist or something.

If Keigo is okay, you’ll be okay.

The press conference decor was coated with the diamond insignia of the Public Safety Hero Commission, along with a few sponsors and nearby police departments. Local heroes and police officers sat around microphones with plastic waterbottles, ringing around the focal points of the events:

Keigo and Miruko.

Seeing him, perfectly in uniform and switched-on didn’t make you feel better.

If anything, it made you feel worse.

Before everything, when he was just your regular you pined after, you saw and heard of him doing heroic duties all the time.

But, it was different when Keigo was your partner, yet living an entirely different reality from yours. In the safety of your apartment, and formerly the teashop, that line of difference was somewhat blurred, or, it at least appeared to be.

But while Keigo was shiny and dazzling, charismatic and blunt as ever on the stage of the conference, the contrast turned polar.

As there was a jeer of laughter, Keigo grinning as Miruko clapped a hand on his back, your stomach rolled.

Seeing him fine and good-as-new wasn’t soothing.

It was like pouring moonshine on a brush fire.

Every moment of the conference highlighted the separation between the two of you, the feeling of fear and now loss so strongly in your mind, it started to taste like the tannin of a rotten wine .

The concoction was made even viler as the memories of injuries didn’t fade or falter.

Your chest ached.

The press conference droned on in front of you, but none of the content of it registered. It was all sickly background noise to your own pains

You pressed the plushie against your stomach, ignoring the phantom stabs of rancid-yellow that traced up your leg from your booted foot.

...

“From what we can surmise, there’s activity of several different villain groups in this area that are connected. This incident is related.”

...

You were getting to yourself, you had been all evening. The problem was you couldn’t climb out—

Not if you weren’t honest and self-aware.

Too bad you were actively spiraling away from anything even close to the latter and former.

...

“There is much we don’t know at this time, but it is clear there must be further investigation into the roots of the attack.”

...

You recognized, even then, that Keigo was going to be in harm's way because of his job, constantly. He was always in danger.

It just felt different, having to see it play out in front of you, isolated from him in all ways except the glimmer he showed the cameras and the gore he bore prior.

The absences burned.

Your gaze moved to your phone, the device still dormant.

With a thick, sticky swallow, you resigned yourself to sitting back into the cushions of your couch, spiraling and numbing as you had been hours.

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Following the press conference, Keigo had one priority—

Sleep.

Despite Akane’s nagging that they ‘really needed to talk to him’, Keigo was exhausted after being healed and wanted nothing more than to go home and rest for as long as he could make himself lay still.

Maybe, he could’ve handled a patrol (if he had had anything significant of his wings left), but he could not stand the idea of dealing with bureaucratic bullshit in his wrung-out state.

At this admission, Akane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Fine, but you need to come to the office as soon as possible,” Akane seemed exasperated after such a long evening (now night), of dealing with the attack. “Seriously, or your publicist is going to kick both of our asses.”

Keigo didn’t ponder too far into the topic of whatever Akane needed him for. Far too mentally wiped-out to bother with what was undoubtedly bureaucratic bullshit.

He rolled his eyes, sending a feather forward to trigger the automatic doors ahead, “I’ll be sure to come in— It’s not like I don’t have a backlog of paperwork to finish.”

“That too,” Akane sighed, pausing outside of the doors, just dimly lit under the lip of the entrance of the building. “Feel better, quick. And please, stay safe.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, “You know I always am. I’ll see you around tomorrow, bright and early.”

Keigo flew away so quickly, he didn't notice Akane’s pinched expression and set jaw and she waved goodbye.

...

Nearly featherless and on the edge of total exhaustion, Keigo dragged himself back to his penthouse. His mind and body ached, his thoughts messy and disorganized.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar state, though he didn’t get to it often.

He had ample training to not get like this. The fuzziness he was clouded by should’ve been tossed aside easily; he blamed his own overcast on the healing he received.

(And, not that he, perhaps, had more on his mind as of late)

More on his mind meant more to forget.

It wasn’t until he toweled off from a quick shower that he even looked at his phone.

It wasn’t until he saw your single text that you even came to his mind.

Keigo called you nearly instantly, jaw going tight.

It made sense that he’d forget, he rationalized.

The portion of his psyche that was trained to be a hero was the same part that struggled the most with his feelings for you. All of the affection, validation, and deep admiration (and perhaps more) was slowly but surely allowing long-dormant parts of him to awaken—

Yet, all of the new roots and growth aside, he’d forgotten about you in the chaos of the day.

Maybe a passing, subconscious twinge in his gut, but otherwise? Nothing.

A bit of guilt chewed him as the line began to ring.

You laid across your couch, curled up with the plushie in your arms. The news reports played like white noise, your mind long having gone to gum and static. You alternated between different horrors of memory and sensation.

The buzzing and shrill sound of your ringtone made your jump, pulling you from your stupor.

[birdboy <3] calling...

You immediately picked up the call.

“Keigo?” You asked, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands.

“Hey, dove,” His voice was cool and calm. “Sorry, I just saw your message now. I figure you saw all the news, but I’m all good, no worries! How are you?”

Oh.

Was it that easy?

The gears in your skull turned far slower than you wanted them to.

He’s fine, (Y/N).

He’s so unbothered.

Everything is fine.

You tried to comfort yourself, taking a few methodical breaths.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I am.” You shook your head. “I was worried, that’s all. My bad. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“The news really plays things up, huh?” Keigo laughed with a sigh, scratchy from the speaker. “Sorry about the media circus. They like the drama.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, feeling yourself begin to spin all over again.

Drama.

Dramatics.

...

Calm down.

It wasn’t that simple.

“Hey, dove, are you alright?” Keigo spoke casually from the line. Maybe there was some concern in his tone (or you just wanted there to be). You couldn’t fully tell.

You sank back into the couch, bending your good leg into your chest, “I was just worried, is all. I freaked myself out.”

“I’m sorry about that, angel,” Keigo clicked from the phone. “I don’t get banged up too often. Besides, they always stitch me back together quickly! It’s just like this sometimes.”

“‘It’s just like this sometimes’,” You repeat mechanically, processing so slowly it was painful. Your voice sounded far off—

You felt like you were drowning.

Why couldn’t you handle seeing him hurt?

It’s part of his job.

Why does this all feel so bad?

“Can you come over?” You asked, praying that he’d say yes, and maybe, maybe, you could have your fears be assuaged with some contact. Some support—

“Sorry, dove, the healer they got for me really drained me,” Keigo yawned from the other side of the line. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay. But, tomorrow is just an office day for me, so I can come by after?”

Your heart sank in your chest, faster and harder than you could try to make yield.

“That works,” You replied, despite how rotten you felt. “Take care, okay? Get some rest.”

You hung up abruptly, not waiting for his reply, and lowering your head.

Tears drip from your eyes, soaking the plushie in your arms as you finally let out the sobs you had been holding back for hours.

...

Despite Keigo’s exhaustion, he knew that the entire phone call was so off. You’d never hung up that quickly before, and you sounded a bit off.

None of it sat right.

He shot off a kind text or two before knocking out for the night, nodding off just after sending them.

...

You hardly slept.

You felt like you were being eaten alive as the night wore on and the moon remained high.

It was all metastasized, unchecked. Breathing exercises had stopped cutting it at some point, your own thoughts and methodical actions lost in the soup of it all.

You ‘rationalized’.

He’s a fucking hero, he’s going to get hurt. It’s part of the job and you need to get over it.

That doesn’t matter! It’s still terrifying to see someone you care about super injured!

You knew all of that though.

None of it was new.

What was new, and harder to understand, was the storm that had buried itself like a barbed arrow between the two halves of your brain.

The rest of it.

The complex miasma of feelings that were only set off by the events and subsequent feelings you tried to rationalize.

The mental thunder-cracks kept you tossing and turning, any sleep light and flighty. Your eyes burned and dripped through the entire night, soaking your pillowcase.

By the time morning light began to shift in from the heavy curtains of your bedroom, you might’ve felt worse than you did the night prior.

Your mouth was dry, tongue tacky, and swollen in your mouth. You forced yourself out of bed, methodically showering despite all of the energy it took with your leg still recovering.

You felt hazy beyond belief, fatigued, and purely awful.

Quickly, you nested for the day, still damp from your shower and sore from your lack of sleep. Tucking into the couch, you covered yourself with blankets and held the plushie to your chest, not even bothering to turn on the TV.

Keigo, meanwhile, prepped for his office day. Since his wings were sparse, he made an extra effort for his face. Bit of concealer to brighten his dark circles and smooth out the finer lines around his brow and under his eyes.

It seemed pertinent to cover more, wipe away his anxieties as his gaze flickered to his phone on the countertop of his bathroom.

You’d never responded the night before. You hadn’t said anything— not even giving an indication that you’d seen the message.

Truthfully, now that the drum of the press and his de-facto role had died down, your lack of contact filled him with burning anxiety.

You two had a habit of texting each other in the mornings, little sweet greetings and the occasional messy selfie that the other adored. Keigo typically woke up earlier than you, but still.

He gave you a call.

You robotically picked up on the second ring, hardly looking at your phone and its caller as you held it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Keigo’s voice seemed too chipper from the other side of the line. “I just wanted to call and check-in. You just sounded a bit off last night, is all. Are you doing okay?”

“Oh,” You sounded hollow, far-off, and sticky.

There was a pause, your numbed out psyche far-too slow and miswired to say anything else.

“(Y/N)?” Keigo asked. “Are you there?”

Your name shoved you a bit closer to reality.

“Yeah, I am.” You blinked, your name making you twitch, “Sorry, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Awww, since last night too?” Keigo’s wings beat in the background of the call. “Is that why you wanted me to come over?”

Sort of, not really.

Your voice shook as you quickly were losing the will to keep it even, “U-um—”

How do you even explain?

Your quirk spun alive, the feeling of shrapnel and rusted nails running jagged lines down your spine.

You need to be honest.

“I j-just,” You sniffled back tears, though fruitlessly. “I just got really scared.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, holding the phone away from your mouth and praying that Keigo couldn’t hear the muffled sobs you forced to stay in your throat.

“It’s alright, I’m okay!” He tried to assure you, tensing at the doorway to his balcony. “Everything is totally fine, there’s no reason to be scared.”

You went quiet on the other side of the receiver, all sound muffled and mixed. It made Keigo chew his lip, tightening his grip on the phone.

“I know.” Your voice broke at the same moment as Keigo’s chest tightened. You sounded so hurt.

It pricked those seldom-used parts of his brain alive.

It was those weird tingles and shooting bits of cortisol that screamed ‘protect them’. They screamed to life at your distress, hot and bright.

“Dove, are you alright? Are you crying?” Panic seeped into his tone as his feathers rippled from soft to razor-sharp in his instinctual rise.

“I just got so f-fucking scared,” You choked, voice fizzling on the line. “Keigo, I’m sorry, I just— “

Your voice broke into tears, sobs echoing from the phone.

Keigo’s grip tightened, heart-pounding and feathers vibrating.

He acted before thinking too hard about it.

“(Y/N), I’m gonna come over, okay? I’ll be there soon,” Keigo assured you, and himself, truthfully as he tore open his balcony door and launched into the sky

You sputtering out an affirmative as wind-whipped into the receiver.

Burying your face in your hands, you felt dread weigh you down from the inside out.

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ko-fi

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taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw @aproperthottie @seasalttrioforever @msgrungie @mia--merc @a-monsters-love @peach-buns-unicorns@amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidelsewhere

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#salem writes #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks #takami keigo #my hero academia #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #lavender latte #takami keigo x y/n #enjoy y'all hehe and SMOOCH

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charliedawn · 4 years ago

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Imagine being the only angel that still believes in Lucifer's redemption part 2

https://charliedawn.tumblr.com/post/646303435890769920/imagine-being-the-only-angel-that-likes-lucifer 1st part

Lucifer doesn't know what to do..He had woken up to a bunch of children poking him with little sticks, with no sign of you or Gabriel. He had no way to communicate with you and was feeling that the gates of Hell had closed their doors..He couldn't enter. Gabriel had made sure to block all of his usual accesses and even Mazikeen couldn't enter. He sighs loudly out of frustration before joining his hands and looking up, wondering if you could still hear him.

" I don't know if it will work but..I miss you, angel..I know that you thought you were doing good in replacing me, but I..I'm afraid that your decision may have altered things too much. I do not hear the souls of all those who should be suffering in Hell, and I feel empty without you by my side..You don't belong down there. It isn't your cross to bare.."

He takes a drag of his cigaret and let's out a puff of smoke before chuckling bitterly to himself.

" You know..I've noticed something. During your last visit, you said that you loved me at least 3 times..But I never thought about saying it back..In fact, I don't remember ever saying it back..Not once in 50 times you decided to come visit me.."

He seems to freeze for a moment at the realization before hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, trying to hide his tears from the world as the guilt takes over him.

" I'm such an idiot, angel..You must feel so lost and confused right now.."

He tries to keep his cool, but it is becoming harder and harder. His hands are shaking and he feels the tears welling up at the corner of his eyes. Even his tears sting as he thinks of you, ruling Hell and scared of being caught. The thought only making him grip his hair tightly and groan in frustration. Chloe had tried to cheer him up the best she could, but..

"..She isn't you.."

He finally mumbles to himself and suddenly, his grief turns into rage as he remembers that you had defied him..HIM ! He was supposed to be the one keeping Hell, you had disobeyed his direct order, as if what he had said was of no importance..You are mad..There is no other explanation..

" I won't leave you there ! You hear me ! Can't you see the state in which I am because you're gone ?! My little angel..Your trick won't last long..And then ? What will you do ? Any demon could get their hands on you and..?!"

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as thousands of thoughts of what those creatures would do to you..He had seen what they were capable of, and many wouldn't bat an eye before dismembering you for their own sadistic pleasure..The thought alone makes him shiver and turn his eyes red.

" If you can hear me, angel. Run. Get out of there. I don't want you to see to which extent this place is depraved, to which extent humans are. I don't want to see the faith you have for them falter..nor your love for me.."

He pauses before admitting that last part, knowing that that was his own selfish desire. He sighs loudly, he needed to get out of here and teleports himself to the nearby beach to take a big inspiration of the salty air and relaxes before continuing with a heavy heart, knowing that it would hurt you if you heard his next words.

" We should have never met, Y/N..I tend to destroy everything that I touch..You were only an innocent little angel and we both knew that, one day, this relationship would lead to something disastrous..I'm so sorry for not having reacted sooner..Dad was right..It would have been better for me to erase all of your memories, instead of keeping the first ones. They only paint a very different version of me..If you come back, I promise to give you everything back. I know that some of the memories will make you hate me, or even feel disgusted..But, that way, you will finally see the monster that you're trying to help.."

He lowers his head and nearly jumps out of his seat when he hears a voice behind him.

" Talking to someone ?"

He turns around swiftly to see you standing there with a small smile playing on your lips.

" Aren't you tired of praying someone that can't hear you ? It's been 5 years, brother..She can't hear you. She's been ignoring my calls as well.."

He only groans in annoyance when he recognizes the condescending voice of his twin and turns towards the counter as fast as he had turned around. But, unlike what he had previously thought, Michael doesn't leave and sits next to him, asking a glass of wine to Mazikeen that first glances at Lucifer for approval, which his finally gives with a slight nod of his head.

" So..What brings you to my charming little establishment, brother?"

Lucifer asks when Michael has his drink, that he gulps in one go to Lucifer's astonishment. Well..So much for the vow of sobriety..

" I know that you know where she is, Lucifer..Even though you won't admit it. An angel can't just disappear without you knowing something about it..I won't ask you where she is, I just wanna know if she's alright?"

Lucifer would have normally made a joke about him becoming attached to you, gladly invited him to leave or ignored him all together..But, surprisingly, he didn't have the will to and he sounded so genuine in his worry that Lucifer has to admit with a loud sigh.

" I don't know, Michael..As you could have guessed, every communication with her has been answered by a deafening silence..Wherever she is, she doesn't want to be found.."

Michael mimics his sigh and, for a moment, the same expression of worry and silent contemplation appear on both their faces as they stare far ahead at an invisible spot in front of them..Angels were archangels charge, not important enough to inform Father himself. But, still..Michael couldn't get you out of his head..Not that angels didn't frequently disappear, either slayed by some demon or wanted to become some guardian angel of Earth..But, this was you they were talking about. You had never left this long before and were too weak to be of any particular interest for any demon..However, that didn't mean he didn't worry about you. Where have you gone to? Knowing that he wouldn't probably find any answer with Lucifer, he decides to stand up and take his leave. However, to his surprise, Lucifer asked as he looks at him with a small mocking smile.

" You know that your an idiot, right?"

Michael frowns in incomprehension and also a bit vexed by Lucifer's insult. Lucifer that picks on his confusion as to what he was talking about, adds while pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

" You've had so many occasions to tell her how you truly felt..But each time, you were too much of a scaredy cat to do anything about it. Even when I was up there, it was so painful to watch. It's funny how we were born with the same face, at the exact same time and place..But, we are so different..I immediately knew what I felt for her the moment our eyes met, and I didn't waste my time like you did.."

Michael doesn't turn around, he only turns his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Lucifer's face when he replies.

" Is that so? Then, tell me, how did that work out for you, brother? She would have done anything for you, and you still find ways to hurt her..How many times must you fall before you realize that she is the only one to have ever truly and unconditionally believed in you?"

Lucifer doesn't respond and Michael doesn't wait for and answer as he walks towards the door..Fools. They were both fools in love with the same damn angel. Unaware to the both of them that someone was spying on their discussion..

" Master ?"

You had been so concentrated on listening to the discussion that you had failed to hear that the demon besides you was talking.

" Mmh?"

You mutter at the end, clearly not interested in whatever he was saying. However, the demon doesn't seem that surprised, Lucifer surely wasn't the most attentive angel after all..

" What do you think we should do with the rest of the murderers on level 4?"

Before you could truly think about the answer, you say out loud.

" Oh..Uh..Forgive them?"

The six eyes of the demon widen at the same time and he quizzically looks at you with confusion.

" My lord?"

The demon seems to not comprehend your demand and you want to face-palm yourself so hard..How did Luci ever managed to know what to do?!

" I mean torture them! Why are you coming to me for that, don't you know how to do your own job? Must I send you in the pit of eternal fire for you to finally understand not to disturb me?!"

If you were being honest? You loved pretending to be Lucifer. He was free and spent most of his time just barking orders on his throne. Since the humans were all sinners down there, nobody cared to do paperwork and everybody was obeying you..While in Heaven, you were just an angel, not a high-ranked one either..The only advantage you had was that power, the power to shapeshift. You usually used it to prank people of joke light-heartedly while mimicking archangel Gabriel when he would come and lecture you..Most of the other angels never understood you, and maybe this is why you had never assigned a higher post in the hierarchy? Not that Gabriel would ever let you become an archangel..You smile at the man that you had learned to consider as a big brother and a friend..It was thanks to him that you had met Luci. One day, as you were welcoming a new soul, a man that you recognized as archangel Michael came to supervise your work. To say that you had been stressed would be a huge understatement. Of course, he couldn't exactly fire you, but you knew that angels could be sent to Hell to take care of the bad souls..or worse. You remember Gabriel telling you that archangels, unlike common angels had the power to "kill" angels, or make them disappear anyway..This is why, you had decided to be on your best behavior that day, however you hadn't counted on Luci being there. You didn't ask when, in the middle of the meeting, Michael had excused himself and left, only to reappear a few moments later with a huge grin..

" So, how's the angel business doing?"

You forced yourself to smile and look back at him to list him a bunch of names you had processed that very day. Many angels did not see the point of your job..However, Luci was different. As soon as you looked up at him, his smile faltered and he frowned, as if he knew that you weren't genuinely smiling.

" Stop that."

He had ordered you and you had looked confused at the time.

" That. Don't smile..You look fake.."

You knew better than disobey an angel's direct command and stopped smiling.

" Does my appearance displease you, archangel Michael ?"

You asked, wondering if it was your face that was not to his taste or your whole appearance in itself ? He shook his head negatively before turning around and sighing.

" I thought you would be more interesting..A shame. From what I heard, you like to think outside of the box and make sure that everybody gets to laugh in Heaven..However, I've been following you since this morning, and you haven't succeeded in making me crack up even once..Care to explain why ?"

His accusative tone caught you by surprise, the great Michael wanted you to..make him laugh? That was unexpected..But, since he asked..A true smirk appears on your face as you think of some human joke that may earn a reaction from the archangel.

" Okay..Let's see..Do you promise not to get mad ?"

He arked an eyebrow, intrigued before smirking.

" Depends.."

Well, here was nothing..You had very few information on mankind and the future..Only Father had this sort of information. However, you all had been given the book of Truth that guided humanity..including the passage which talked about his son falling and being crucified to save humanity..You knew better than to joke about that, but what could you do to try to make the great Michael to laugh?!

" Why doesn't Jesus trust mankind ?"

The eyes of Lucifer widened, he hadn't expected that..

" Why ?"

You looked around, as if you were afraid that someone might hear you before whispering.

"He's afraid he'll get double crossed.."

At first, Luci stayed still, but soon his mouth etched into a grin and his eyes brightened with a certain amount of amusement.

" Ah ! I think that joke nailed it!"

His answer made you blank for a moment, but soon, you felt excited. When you had told your joke to Gab, he had simply sighed in utter despair, quickly reprimanding you on how this was no laughing matter..However, knowing that Michael could understand dark humour was the best surprise you'd had for centuries of existence.

" Listen, I have to go..But, keep up the good work and I'll be sure to check in once or twice.."

You smiled genuinely and nodded vividly, impatient to see him again.

" Ah! Here it is! You have a rather beautiful smile, angel..Try to use this one more often.."

You blushed at the compliment and Lucifer winked at you before walking away. Was that just your imagination or did the archangel Michael gave you a compliment ?! You squealed and let yourself do a little victory dance, interrupted by someone coughing loudly behind you. You turned around to see Michael standing there and blushed even more as he eyed you up and down with an amused smile.

" May I know what inspired that sudden little demonstration of happiness, angel Y/N ?" " You decided to ignore his question and ask teasingly instead.

" Did you perhaps come to hear one or two more of my jokes, archangel Michael ? Couldn't get enough ?"

Suddenly, archangel Michael walked straight towards you and lean in so close that you were starting to wonder if you hadn't made a mistake..He arked an eyebrow at you before replying quizzically.

" Weren't you informed that I was supposed to see you today ? The inspection ?"

Your eyes widened, stammering your answer.

" B..But you already d..did ? No?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise before sighing loudly, understanding what had happened.

" You must have met my brother..Lucifer can be a little eccentric. Do not mind him. I hope that he wasn't too much of a hassle ?"

You turned around to hide your embarrassment, as you had confused Michael with his brother ! However, Michael didn't seem to really mind and only sighs before looking at the files you had made on the advantages of laughter, which earned you a small smile from him.

" I must admit, we were impressed by your work..Especially, the "twin prank". Me and Lucifer had a lot of fun in trying it on the other archangels..and even Father who laughed when we both started dressing as each other and walking around to see who would recognize us..But, what was the funniest, I must admit, was your own reaction. You created that idea, and yet had trouble recognizing it..Wouldn't that mean that we outsmarted you?"

Michael looks up at you with a mischievous grin and you can't help but smile back. At last, you had found other players among all of the archangels..Lucifer and Michael, huh ? Well played..Well played, gentlemen..

" No..Not at all..It just means that the rematch will be sweeter for me.."

You start shifting to their appearance and take one step towards Michael with a daring smile.

" See, archangel. When you try to prank the prankster, you must always expect the game to go on. Now, good luck to differentiate me to your brother.."Am I him ?" You'll both ask yourselves and I will be enjoying immensely your confusion as you both lose your heads.."

Michael, far from feeling threatened, smiles at you..You were different from the other angels he had ever encountered, that was for sure..He suddenly tookyou by the waist and watched as you blushed intensely. He then lowers his face to whisper in your ear. " I've got other ways to find out if your my brother or not.." You both hear a chuckle behind you and and look at Lucifer, smirking widely as he looked over the both of you. This is how you three had bonded: over a prank. And since then, you had never left their sides..Or at least until Lucifer's great fall..

The scared voice of the demon besides you gets you back to reality.

" No! Of course not my lord! I'm sorry..Please, forgive me..The level 4 is overcrowded and we must find a new place to put the new arrivals. Maybe if your majesty could create more space in this area?"

One of tree things that you had not predicted however is that Lucifer was a being capable of manipulating Hell's pit, as he was the one that had created it. Whereas your power only consisted in copying the physical aspects of a being, not its powers..

" I..I.."

You try to find an excuse, but nothing comes to mind, until a hand puts itself on your shoulder.

" No problem. I'm sure the lord is just feeling a bit lost after his long stay in the pitiful human world.."

You look up to find a demon with half of his face burnt down to a crisp and who looks at you with big green eyes. Somehow, he seemed far more intimidating than the other one and also intelligent as his eyes seem to pierce right through you. You shiver at his devilish smirk and quickly stand up to face him, in order to not make yourself even more suspicious.

" And who are you to tell me if I'm lost or not?! Who even gave you the permission to touch me, hmm?"

The demon suddenly takes a step backwards in surprise and kneels on one knee in front of you, his head lowered in respect.

" My apologies, my king..I didn't think that you would find my gesture so inappropriate. I am Azrath. Your second-in-command and faithful servant.."

Perfect ! You had just gave away that you had no clue that the man in front of you was your second-in-command ! You take a profound breath before taking back your emotionless mask and smile.

" I know who you are, Azrath..Your presence is just unexpected..What are you doing here ?"

The demon stands up again and you suddenly are very aware of how tall he was compared to you..His pale face contrasting with his half eaten half worm-infested chest. You have to look away in order for him not to see your eyes prickled with tears at the stench. Not that Hell smelt good in general, but the throne was so high above everything else that it was bearable, which you couldn't say for the walking corpse next to you..

" I just wanted to see if the rumors were true..You did come back.."

He seems almost disappointed for a second, but quickly composes himself and then gives you something that make your eyes widen as big as saucers..hearts..bloody hearts !

" Also, I took the liberty to gather the fresh hearts of the new arrivals..Just as you like them. Still beating."

Lord..Help me. You could see them moving and it takes all of your self-control not to throw up your own heart at the sight..However, you can feel it beating more widely in your chest..Even though you technically didn't have one, the feeling of pure horror conjured one..You force yourself to smile up at the demon and take the bag, trying your hardest not to look back at them..

" Thank you ! This is...lovely..."

This time, both demons seem to be taken aback by your words and you frown, what have you said this time?! The less intelligent of the two, noticing your confusion, takes it upon himself to answer your silent question.

" My lord..You've never "thanked" anyone before..You even forbid anyone to say it in Hell 1000 years ago.."

You understand and sweat profusely at the realization..The other demon remains silent, but the way he was staring at you suspiciously was enough for you to have doubts as to whether he was starting to understand what was going on..You had to do something, quick. You grit your teeths and yell as loud and as scary as you could.

" I am tired of this! Now, I've been gone for a while and wish to be left alone with my thoughts! Would it be possible or is it too much to ask?!"

Both demons fly away and you let out a sigh of relief. You look around and your eyes fall on a little demon that was flying by, transporting some letters. You frown, wondering what it was doing until you notice that it is going towards the gates. It must be a messenger! You summon paper and start writing a letter to Gabriel and call the little demon.

" You ! Send this to archangel Gabriel !"

The little she-demon quivers in fear, but doesn't dare refuse and takes the letter to the only communication link between Hell and Heaven. The tall and lanky skeleton that had talked to you earlier was sure to become a problem..He was far too smart for his own good..You would have to find a way to make him believe you somehow..You sigh loudly in frustration before running you hand through your...his hair..Suddenly, you smell something rotten just behind you and don't have the time to turn around before a dark chuckle sounds nears your ear.

" Archangel Gabriel, huh ?"

Your eyes widen and when you turn around, you find yourself in front of the same clever demon from earlier. His eyes seem brighter somehow and he is covered in..You have to muffle your mouth not to let out a scream or even vomit at the guts hanging from his shoulders and limbs..Oh my Goodness..The demon seems to perceive your uneasiness and hangs his head on one side, wondering what was wrong..You close your eyes and, after a few minute, open them again to see the monster actually smirking mockingly at you.

" What is the matter, Lucifer ? Did the human world affect you so much that you can't even stomach the sight of blood anymore ?"

He laughs at your horrified expression and suddenly takes you by the arm to yank you harshly forward, making you nearly fall from the throne.

" What are you doing?! Unhand me!"

You scream, but he only does a crooked smile before asking, almost expectantly.

" Aren't you going to use your wings, "my lord"?"

The way he had mockingly pronounced the two last words make you quickly understant that he was on to your masquerade and you glare at him.

" I won't let a pitiful demon like you intimidate me..I am your king and I am to he respected as such!"

However, far from feeling threatened, the demon only gets out something that you had forgotten about..the sword of Lucifer..

" The sword of Hell..Only demons or lord Lucifer can wield it..If any other etheral being were to try to use it, they would fall to the core of Hell to burn there for the rest of eternity..And one of the only weapons capable to kill even angels..Now, tell me..Still going to pretend to be our great master?"

You know that what he is saying is true..The sword is as sharp and bloody as it was the day Lucifer got rejected from Heaven..You didn't know what to do, so you admit reluctantly.

" I am angel Y/N, caretaker of humans joy and laughter of sector 45."

You were sure that he would pierce your body with the sword as soon as he would know, but the pain never comes and you open your eyes to see that the demon was now facing you. His wide green eyes were dancing around their sockets and his smile goes from ear to ear, showing his sharp and yellow teeths. He runs his tongue over them and has something in his eyes that makes you shiver in fear..hunger. He eyes you up and down and laughs darkly as you try to get away from him. However, you slip and fall. Not having any choice, you open your wings and all of the demons turn their heads towards you, the blinding light catching their attention. As soon as they see you, they all screech or roar in your direction and fly up in the sky to attack you. You start flying towards the gates, followed closely by waves of demons and Azrath that yells at the guards to cut the entrance. The two huge demons at the doors try to catch you with their bare hands, as if you were some kind of mosquitoe and you have to do multiple spins in the air to escape them. You know that their must be an entrance somewhere since the little demon messengers were able to pass. However, you didn't plan on the said entrance to be tiny orifices, big enough for the little demons to go through, but not you. You turn around to see the wave of demons coming closer..Well, looks like Luci was right..You hadn't totally thought that through..You would probably die here. You close your eyes and smile. At least, you had bought some time for Lucifer to live as he wanted among the humans for 5 whole years..However, suddenly, you feel a hand around your wrist. You open your eyes to see Azrath, dragging you towards the gates where he gets out the sword of Lucifer and cuts you with it. The burn is insufferable and you scream in pain as Azrath forces you to put your injured hand against the door.

" What are you doing?!"

You scream incredulously at his strange behavior, but he only lets out a spine-chilling groan before answering you.

" My great escape, sweetheart ! And if you want to leave, I would advise you to do as I say and shut up!"

You open your eyes wide as he starts pushing against the door, trying to get it open. You look behind you and see the demons flying in circle in the sky, wondering what their boss was doing..

" W..Why are you doing this?!"

You finally ask and, just as the door starts bulging, he answers you with terrifying smirk.

" I'm going to get back Lucifer..I've had more than enough of this place and I'm sure that if he is so reluctant to come home..then that means the human world must be a very nice place. Now, are you going to stay here with the nice little other flying monstrosities, or are you going to follow me, angel Y/N?"

He extends his hand towards you and look back at the screaming harpies and horned devils flying above your heads. You finally sigh and take his hand. As soon as your hand in his, his grin only widens and he runs outside, followed by you. You close your eyes and try to communicate with Lucifer.

" I'm sorry, Lucifer..I've failed."

On Earth, Lucifer was sitting besides Trixie that had grown into quite the young lady, as you had predicted..He finds himself smiling as the door opens and he sees Chloe come in with a loud sigh.

" Today was absolutely crazy at work..There has been some calls all over the cities..missing cats. Can you believe it?! Cats?! What are we?! The Cat Police?!"

The girl and Lucifer look up at her from the sofa while Chloe arks an eyebrow at them.

" What?"

They both look at each other with a serious expression, both nodding understandingly at each other and smile widely before looking back at Chloe with their hands joined together in a gun shape.

" You are under catrest !"

" Paws where I can see them, detective !"

They both yell at the same time and Chloe snorts..Of course those two would do cat puns..typical. However, she acts her part and raises her hands in the air.

" Oh no! You got me!"

They all smile, all the sion having left the room..But then, a loud caught catches their attention.

" Sorry to interrupt this..whatever this is..But, I must talk to Lucifer."

Here was Gabriel, in their living room..after 5 years of absence and Lucifer's smile automatically goes downwards as his eyes take a bright red tint. Chloe, sensing the danger, urges Trixie to go in her room. As soon as the girl is upstairs, Lucifer is quick to react and jumps on Gab to choke the angel.

" You! How dare you show your face again?!"

He shouts angrily, his eyes flashing a bright red. It takes Chloe to grab him by the shirt to yank him off the angel that stands up again to answer him between each pant.

" It's..It's Y/N..I..I made a mistake.."

Lucifer growls at him and responds sarcastically.

" You think?!"

The etheral being looks up at Lucifer with, for the first time in ages, an apologetic glance.

" It wasn't meant to last that long..You were supposed to get back down there a year later..But, she closed the gates, Lucifer. I couldn't come in myself. She closed the gates to anyone but the souls and now, I'm afraid that she may be in trouble, because of me."

Lucifer, far from feeling any compassion towards the angel, is bewildered by his apology and smiles in astonishment at his brother's admittance.

" Oh well..My heart bleeds for you, Gab..It really does. Not even recognizing your own brother must be terrible.."

Lucifer doesn't wait for an answer before pushing Chloe to the side on the sofa before punching Gabriel in the nose. Gabriel stumbles back with the force of the impact and raises his hand in surrender and repeats.

"I know that you are angry, brother..But, I'm not joking, Lucifer. She's in trouble."

Lucifer, astonished by the nerve of this angel that dared come to him for help, can't help but replying ironically.

" Oh! You're not joking?! Well good..Because neither am I !"

His eyes lighten up in orange and he nearly growls at Gab that gets out the letter you had send him to extend it towards Lucifer.

" She wrote me this..One of the demons is on to her..And, as I said earlier, I can't go in there. Not only did she close the doors, but you know as well as I do that I can't go in there without Father's permission.."

Lucifer snickers at Gabriel's pathetic excuse and shakes his head.

" No. I am not going to read that. Fuck off. She chose to disobey..She chose to replace me and she told me herself! She finds my job "extremely complaisant and entertaining". Even if I were to go there, she wouldn't want my help..Plus, as you said, she closed the gates! Only the spirits are allowed in..How do you suppose I get in?!"

However, it's Chloe that reacts first and grabs the letter out of Gab's hands to give it to Lucifer with resolution.

" Open it, Lucifer. You still are the king of Hell! Act like it!"

His eyes widen at Chloe's sudden agressive reply and his voice softens as he looks down at the woman and finally opens the letter to read it.

" Gabriel, my brother and my friend..It has been 5 years now that I've sealed the gates of Hell. I know you must be pretty furious, as our deal ended 4 years ago..However, I couldn't deny Lucifer of his happiness. I know that you can't understand my decision, nor why I did it..But, it's not that bad. I succeeded in blending in among the demons. I think Lucifer would be proud. However, I wanted to know if you could please enlighten me on one of the demons that just arrived in Hell. His name is.."

Lucifer's eyes widen at the familiar name and he looks up at Gabriel with shock..The name of his second-in-command was written on there, but he had deserted eons ago..Why come back now? It didn't make any sense, unless..His jaw clench and he fixes the letter intensely..Unless he had found his sword..as he had asked of him..And if it was the case, then his little angel had some serious problems on her hands..However, before he could voice his concern, he feels a vivid pain in his chest that cuts his breath off..He can feel that you're in danger somehow..But how to find you?! He groans in agony, trying to think of how to find you..until he remembers that there had been mysterious disappearances of cats in the neighborhood. He looks up at Chloe that is by his side, supporting him as he doubles on the floor in pain.

" The..cats.."

He tries to utter, but Chloe doesn't understand and leans in to have a better hearing.

" The cats..Where were they going? Where did the largest number disappear?"

" Around the old church..Why?"

He looks at Gab that instantly understands and nods before disappearing. Asrath was also known as the master of cats, this is why it had been easier for him to search for the sword undetected..He just had to believe that Gab would arrive in time. Chloe frowns at him and asks, bewildered.

" Well?! Are you going to stay there?? Go save her !"

He looks up at her with widened eyes, astonished that she would ever suggest it.

" I can't..I can't leave you, Chloe.."

Chloe takes a big breath before looking up at Lucifer with a small sad smile and caressing his cheek tenderly.

" Go, Lucifer..She needs you. We'll be fine.."

He finally nods and smiles up at her before kissing her on the forehead.

" I love you.."

She smiles with tears in her eyes and forces herself to nod.

" I know.."

And with that confirmation, Lucifer disappears as well, appearing near the old church and the pain worsens with every step he takes. When he enters the said church, it is filled with cats and he sees Gab, fighting Azrath. He looks around to spot you huddled near the cross, your face hidden behind your Y/C hair and then..he sees the blood. You were bleeding from your upper arm and he sees red. His body feels hot and overwhelmed by a new-found energy. He looks up at Azrath that was handling HIS sword against Gabriel that was struggling with fighting back. He walks towards them and as soon as Azrath notices him, he smirks and gets rid of Gabriel by throwing him against the cross that breaks in two. Gab wants to get up, but he feels a pain to his side and sees that Azrath had succeeded in wounding him..In normal circumstances, his wound would close itself immediately. However, this mighty weapon was one conceived especially to kill archangels, and Lucifer had made it with his own hands..The wound would take longer to heal and he felt himself fall unconscious. You whimper and try to help Gab by applying pressure on the bleeding wound, but Azrath notices you and stops you. You back away in fear, your wide eyes full of terror and Lucifer then sees why he had felt your pain..Azrath had carved an upside-down cross on your forehead, sending him a direct invitation..His blood is boiling in his veins as he sees what the vile creature had done to his poor angel, while Azrath seems proud of himself as he takes you by the hair and yanks you forward so you fall to your knees at his feet. It takes you a few minutes to look up, but when you do, his heart stops. In your eyes, the innocence and joy were gone..replaced by unbidden fear. He tries to help you up, but you scurry backwards and his eyes prickle with tears, as you were now afraid of even him.

" Oh..angel.."

He utters apologetically at you before glaring up at Azrath that frowns in incomprehension.

" Why are you looking at me like that?! She's an angel!"

He stands up and Azrath takes a step back as he senses the radiating rage of Lucifer that walks calmly towards him and extends his hand towards him expectantly.

" The sword. Give me the sword."

Azrath takes back his blank expression and shakes his head negatively before looking at the bloody sword in his hands.

" I'm sorry, Master..But you know I can't do that..You need to come back with me. Your kingdom needs you and this sword is the only thing hat can force you to come back.."

Lucifer sighs, knowing that he wouldn't give him without a fight. He suddenly tries to surprise him by sending him a punch, but Azrath, having premeditated it, uses the sword as a shield. But Lucifer, far from being bothered, takes the sword with his bare hands before kicking Azrath backwards. Azrath growls at him, showing his sharp teeths and snake-like tongue. He hisses, his voice dripping with venom.

" You really are going to fight me for her?! She's only an angel! The enemy!"

Lucifer glances back at you and smiles reassuringly at you before looking back at Azrath with eyes glowing in the dark.

" No.."

Azrath seems to be relieved by his answer, but it quickly fades out when Lucifer takes his original form and shouts between gritted teeths.

"..I'm going to kill you!"

Lucifer couldn't just control Azrath, he was too powerful for that..and had always been by his side since his great fall. Azrath closes his eyes and inhales deeply before looking up at Lucifer with his bright green eyes in which his pupils turn to slits and raises his hands in the air.

" As you wish, Master..Know that I never wanted this.."

Suddenly, the cats surround him and cover him from head to toe, melting into a sort of black armor. The great armor of Azrath. Great..Lucifer cracks his head to the side and grins up at his ex second-in-command.

" Always the attention seeker, aren't you Azrath?"

Azrath would have only ignored his comment normally, but this time, his comment earns him a slight chuckle, knowing that one of them would die tonight.

" You know me, Lucifer..I guess I took some things from you.."

After this exchange of ironic comebacks, they both become serious and in a flash, they are both at each other's throats. Azrath bites his shoulder hard and Lucifer slashes his face. Both of them are panting, but in their eyes the same fire burning bright..Suddenly, someone crashes inside through the window and interposes himself between the two demons.

" What is going on here?! What are you two doing here?! Hell is chaos and I find you both here?!"

Michael booms in obvious discontent, not having noticed the sword in Azrath's hands yet..Azrath takes it as an opportunity and raises his sword to strike him down.

" This is for you, Lucifer!"

He brings it down, but you use your last strength to stand up and stand in front of Michael. The three men are shocked and Michael is the first to react, he gets out his lance and decapitates Azrath in one swift blow. As for Lucifer, he quickly kneels besides you and takes you in his arms. He looks at his hand in horror, recognizing the smell and color of blood. He shakes you, trying to wake you up while crying out loud.

" No. No! No! No! Angel! Stay with me! You hear me?! Stay with me!"

He sobs and gets the hair out of your face, cradling your face kissing your face over and over again, hoping for your (Y/C) eyes to open again..Michael, after having made sure that Gabriel was alright, turns towards you and, for the first time in forever, feels tears prickle in his eyes at the realization. He falls to his knees by your side and gently pets the top of your head. He then looks up at the sky and asks for a miracle, begging his Father to bring you back..

" Dad! Please! Do not punish her even more! Please, bring her back!"

But his prayers are unanswered and the only one who seems to be affected by his words is Gab that gasps loudly as he wakes up. He looks at his wound and smiles as he sees that there is nothing left..However, when he sees your cold body on the ground, his smile turns into a pained grimace, his whole face twisting in sadness.

" Why? She saved Michael..She saved your son!"

Lucifer shouts, his eyes pointed towards the sky, not expecting an answer.

" Because, this is Michael's punition.."

They all look towards the direction of the voice, their eyes widening as they see Gab, his kind eyes looking above all of them with a numb stare, having finally understood why Father hadn't said or done anything.

" Michael, you really thought Y/N wouldn't know how you felt ? Your jealousy of your own brother..Jealousy that only grew to win the love of one being and threatened to destroy Heaven and Hell..The very same being that only wished for you two to be happy..She tried to make things right and replace you, Lucifer..Father gave her what she wanted, and what you both feared more than anything..She knew the price, but she asked HIM for your salvation and redemption."

Lucifer and Michael both stand up at the same time and open their mouths to voice their disapproval and utter outrage when Gabriel interrupts them, wanting only one thing now.

" Let's go home.."

He takes your body and looks at both brothers with tearful eyes.

" I hope you will be able to appreciate the second chance she has just both given you..You are both free."

And with those last words, he flies up with your body in his arms. Lucifer and Michael both look at each other and, without them knowing why, they both start tearing up. However, Lucifer forces himself to talk through his sobs.

" We can't..We can't leave her..She didn't deserve this..I know what punishment looks like, and she didn't deserve this! She didn't deserve to be sacrificed for our sakes!"

Michael, for once, agrees with his brother and extends his hand towards his brother.

" I know we had our differences in the past, brother..But, we need to show Dad that we are more! That we can be more than just hateful beings, if we want her back..Are you with me?"

Lucifer nods, and for the first in the History of the World, the Good and the Bad were to become allies in order to save you..

You open your eyes wide and straighten up to look around you, frowning in confusion at your surroundings. You were in the middle of a luxuriant forest with tall trees and bright purple fruits..Where are you? And most of all, how are you alive?! You look at your stomach to see that your wound has completely disappeared.

" How are you, my darling?"

You look up with astonishment as you see a tall woman with a bright green dress making her way to you. Her smile and welcoming expression make you think that she is not a threat, but you still have to ask.

" Hum..Thank you for saving me but, who are you? And where am I?"

She only chuckles at your question, as if it was the funniest joke.

" I'm sorry, my dear..Those are very good questions but, it's been a while since I've got some company so..hearing another human voice is quite exciting.."

You don't reply, waiting for her to answer your questions, which she does and you whiten at her answers.

" My name is Lilith..And this is my prison. I would say that it is the garden..but I've been locked up in here for so long that I can't remember much."

You had heard about Lilith, the first woman, the mistake, the mother of monsters..She had died so many millenias ago. And if you were with her, then that only meant one thing..

" Welcome to the Other Place! The place where angels and demons come when they die ! Of course, as not many angels or demons truly die..They stay here until Father needs them again..Come. You're the first one to get here since a few centuries..I'm sure you've got many stories to share."

Lilith extends her hands towards you with a wide smile and you look at her hand hesitantly for a few seconds before finally taking it with a small sigh.

" Yes. I guess I do.."

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #netflix #fandoms #michael

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paradise-creator · 4 years ago

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Amorette's song:

Another one done! Love triangles can be fluffy as well! Note that the reader is based on me so it would be easier for me to write.

Tw: Self-degradation, negative thoughts

The different blue hues dance around the heavens as the sun comes down slowly. It was still quite late in the afternoon, maybe 3? Or 4? It was another day at school, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Well, school already ended and the after school clubs are doing their thing. The volleyball team are still at it in their practice. “Let’s make the most of the time, okay?” A silver haired male said as he pulled the tangerine and blueberry away from each other. “Koushi! Tobio!” A female voice then echoed. The silver haired male, Sugawara, and the blueberry, Kageyama looked at the entrance of the gym. They found a short female right outside the gym door trying to find the two. The two of their faces light up before subtlety glaring at each other.

“They are over here!” Daichi then called out as the two were deep into their tension. Once the female entered the gym, their little feud ended. “Hey there Sugar!” Sugawara said as he beckoned for you to come. “Hello my lovelies!” You then said as you walked towards them. “Sorry for suddenly coming in,” You added as you walked in the gym. “No! It’s totally fine, we don’t mind you here,” Daichi said as he chuckled. “Hey!” Yachi then greeted as she walked towards you. As you were pulled away by Yachi and Kiyoko, the boys continued to practice. But there is something that seemed different, to you and the girls, it seemed like nothing is wrong. But the other members knew otherwise.

“You better not slack off, Kageyama!” Sugawara teased as he received the ball. “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?” Kageyama responded as he finished setting to Hinata. To which was blocked by Tsukkishima. “May the best man win~” Sugawara said as he smiled at the other setter. “May the best man win,” Kageyama responded as he looked down on the silver. “What are they talking about?” Narita asked. “They are not talking about volleyball?” Ennoshita asked skeptically. “When did the two of them joke around the court with each other? I mean, Sugawara, yes but Kageyama?” Narita reasoned as he looked at the two. “And ‘may the best man win’ maybe they are talking about something else,” He added as he continued looking at their antics. “Let’s not focus on that now,” Ennoshita said as he pulled the shorter to practice.

Daichi then called out a 10 minute break. You, Kiyoko, and Yachi then gave out their water bottles and towels. You gave Sugawara and Kageyama’s items like usual. “Thank you,”Kageyema said as he bowed his head slightly. “Thanks Sugar~” Sugawara said as he started drinking. “Have you thought about it?” Kageyama then said. “About the date?” You then said as you looked at him. He flushed red and looked away, nodding. “I told you I’ll go yesterday, Tobio,” You then said as you looked at him. “Just wanted to make sure,” He then said. Sugawara then pouted and back hugged you. “It will me my turn soon, right?” He then asked as he placed his head on your’s. “Soon, soon. And you make it seem you both are dating me,” You responded as you patted Kageyama’s head. “Kageyama and I did agree to take turns in trying to capture your heart,” Sugawara then said as he stopped hugging you.

“You have a point,” You then said as you started to tend Hinata. “You really had to bring that up?” Sugawara said, slightly annoyed. “I just wanted to make sure,” Kageyama then said as he looked at Sugawara. “You could’ve done it when I’m not there? You knew she had to cancel out on my date because she was busy,” The silver then said as he pouted. “It’s fun to see your reaction,” The taller then said before he walked away. “Fun? Oh come here,” Sugawara then said as he started to chase the taller. You then looked at their antics and stared. What the heck were they doing? They started chasing each other for no reason yet again. “And here we go again,” Asahi said as he chuckled. “It is entertaining in a way,” Daichi then said. You glance at the two before putting your eyes at the two yet again. They then noticed your gaze and froze. They forgot that they weren’t supposed to fight in front of you. Even if it looked playful or fun.

“Boke! Are you observing us?” Kageyama then yelled at you. You chuckled and looked away. “And what if I am Tobio~ And are you sure I am JUST observing” You then teased as you looked back at him. He blushed and looked away as he huffed. “Aww~ Sugar, put your eyes on me as well~” Sugawara playfully whined. “Let me note take in peace~” You then said as you chuckled. “Boke! Boke! Why are you even taking note on us?” Kageyama then said. “Weren’t you the one who asked?” You then asked. Kageyama realized what he said and what he asked. He huffed and walked away, not wanting to seem flustered. “Are you taking notes of all of us or?” Sugawara then said as he went closer. “Everyone,” You then responded as you gave him a notebook. “These are good,” He then said as he read it. “Suga! Break’s over!” Daichi then called out. “I’ll be borrowing this,” He then said as he went towards Daichi.

Kiyoko then walked towards you after the two setters dealt their business. “So, have you decided yet?” She asked as she sat beside you. “As much as I would love to become manager, I just don’t I’m cut out for it,” You responded as you looked at the people playing. “If you say so, but you really are suited for it,” The taller female said as she looked at you. “Plus, the team needs moral support. I mean Yachi and I can provide it but you seem to know how to really lift up the mood,” Kiyoko said as she then stood up and smiled. “I’ll continue my duties, but please think about it? Plus~ the boys always seem to perform better while you are here,” Kiyoko teased. “Whatever~” You responded as you continued looking. “I don’t mean to sound rude or anything! I’m just really curios and I-“ Yachi started overthinking but then you cut her off. “It’s fine, Yachi! Go ahead spill it!” You then said.

“Do Sugawara and Kageyama like you? Those two seem to always try and outdo each other when you are here,” Yachi then said. You then flinch as you sighed. “I wanna say happily, yes. But sadly, yes, they both like me,” You responded. “I mean both of them are amazing and all! I’m just confused and afraid to hurt them,” You then confessed as you checked out the two setters. “Both of them are so beautiful in both their looks and personality,” You then said as you buried your face in your hands. “I’m just confused but I also don’t wanna drag this on,” You then added. And as silence fell your mind wondered.

Why you? Out of all the people why you? Why love someone who’s emotionally unstable? A girl whose primary source of comfort are x reader fanfics? A girl whose head is head is full of fantasies, insecurities, and scenarios that didn’t even happen? As more and more thoughts swirl around your head, Yachi had already left you, not wanting to disturb what “peace” you have. Tears prickle your eyes as more and more scenarios, insecurities, and fear settle in your mind. “Are you oka-“ Kiyoko was about to ask. “Excuse me, sorry,” You then said rushed as you left the gym. Yachi was about to follow you but was held back by Kiyoko. “She needs space,” The 3rd year merely said and the blonde nodded hesitantly. “She’ll come back eventually, right?” The shorter asked and Kiyoko merely nodded.

When you left, both Sugawara and Kageyama looked at the entrance, wanting to follow where you went. It was not until a few more sets of games did the team notice their longing and unsteadiness. “You can go and find her,” Daichi then said. And the moment that left his lips, both of them went flying. “Kageyama! You check the library I’ll go check the roof top,” Sugawara then said.

You, on the other hand, were under a tree in the campus. A place that you only go to when things get rough. As tears streamed down, you buried your head in your knees. “Here we go again,” You then stuttered as you sighed. You felt numb, why were you even crying in the first place? What made you sad? Your mind tends to forget to be able to protect you from any more harm. You then looked up the sky and let your tears roll. Oh, now you remember why it made you sad.

“I’m scared,” you squeaked as you wiped away your tears. “Help me, I’m scared,” You added as you curled up into a ball.

You are just useless. Always causing pain to others. Such an idiot, can’t even get her life together

Scared? You better be. Pain will arrived soon.

Such a cry baby, crying over the simplest stuff. Why can’t you be like your best friend? A person who is always going to be better than you.

As more and more thoughts came to haunt you. Memories also came to loom over you. Reminding you of all the things that happened between Sugawara and Kageyama. You started to mumble things to get it off your mind. Or started trying to get your breathing steady.

“We like you!” Both Kageyema and Sugawara confessed as they bowed, startling you. “You see sugar, we weren’t going to tell you about it. But someone just had to slip it out,” Sugawara said, slightly annoyed. “I’m sorry!” Hinata whined as he hid behind Asahi. “Don’t worry though! Kageyama and I already agreed on things. So you don’t have to worry your little head,” The silver then added. “Y-yeah,” Kageyama then said. “Agreed on things?” You then said as you looked at them. “Just don’t worry, Boke!” Kageyama then said.

As time passed, you found out more about their little deal. Their number one rule is to never fight in front of you. Which currently is being broken. Kageyama had bluntly told you how sometimes you can be overbearing. But before he can even finished with what he was saying, he was cut off. “You can’t just say that to her!” Sugawara said as he looked at Kageyama in disappointment. “I’m not even done talking,” Kageyama then said as he glared at Sugawara. “And she’s asking me, not you,” He then added as he turned back to you. Sugawara sighed and chuckled darkly. “That’s why I’m going to make her fall for me. You don’t know how to take care of her,” Sugawara then said uncharacteristically. Thus pissed off the blueberry and now they are having an argument. Yelling at each other as you felt smaller and smaller. “Guys stop it!” You said as you then tried to stop both of them.

Sugawara looked at you with a soft expression but he turned back to Kageyama. The two continued to yell and scold each other back and forth. No matter how hard you tried, they didn’t break apart. “I’ll be the one she will love romantically!” Kageyama then yelled. “As if you are able to even take care of her! I’ll make sure she doesn’t get hurt,” Sugawara then yelled back. They both then glared at each other, talking without words. But then their frenzy of insults started again.

Hinata and Yamaguchi went to you and led you out. “Does this always happen?” You then asked as you looked back. The two led you out and kept you company as the others break the fight. “No, it usually isn’t this bad,” Yamaguchi then said as he sighed. “Both of them must’ve had a bad day,” Hinata added.

How long as it been going on for? You know that YOU are hurting them greatly. You’ve seen them cry because of you and it hurts, right? It feels like knifes are stabbing your heart as you see them tear apart. They don’t fight in front of you but you know they do. YOU are the cause of their suffering, and yet you don’t seem to realize how deep that wound would be.

Kageyama sat in the gym alone, and tired. He didn’t know why he felt this way. But what he did know is that he just wants for it to be gone. He and Sugawara had just finished fighting and he was tired of it. He sat there with his eyes focused on the ball. He wanted to practice more but his body was not cooperating. You went inside to see him just sitting there, which is unusual. So you went to him, sat beside him, and hold him close. You knew that he was sad, it was obvious, and he didn’t even attempt to hide it. “It’s okay, I’m here. You don’t have to keep it in,” You then said as you placed his head on your shoulder. And with that, he cried.

“Please make it stop,” You whimpered as you continue to cry. You covered your ears as you curled up. More and more thoughts came to haunt you. Breathing became harder and your body trembled. You were scared, scared of getting hurt, of getting left alone, of being alone. It was scary and you feel like the world is spinning.

Sugawara leaned on the wall, he currently was at the back of the gym. He felt lost and scared. This whole love was all new to him. And out of all the people that could’ve fallen for you as well, is his kouhai, his superior, Kageyama. His tears fell down as he let his mind drift into the void. You were looking for him and found him in this state. Since he was too busy with his thoughts, he didn’t notice you coming up to him. He yelped once you held him in a hug. He tried brushing you off and making excuses but you kept your arms around him. “You don’t have to be strong in front of me. Cry all you want, I’m here to help,” You then said as you held them close. He relaxed and let loose, crying unto your shoulder.

Them crying because of you, it hurts. Your heart and chest ache as you continued to cry. You just want this pain to go away. For their pain to go away. And yet here you are, your feelings all jumbled up. You don’t know what to feel or how to react. Kind of ironic since a lot of people would consider you an empath. More and more thoughts consumed you and making you feel worse.

Little did you know, the two hard already seen and heard most of your little break down. Sugawara looked at your figure with teary eyes. His heart clenched when he heard your mumbles and your pleas. He hated the fact that he was causing you this pain. He knew how sensitive you are and yet he choose to pour his feelings on to you. He wanted to help you and for once, he wasn’t able to get words out of his mouth. But he merely walked towards you with one of his hand reached out to you and the other on top of his chest. Kageyama, on the other hand, had no idea on what to do or what to even say but he followed his upperclassmen’s league. He didn’t understand on why it hurts just looking at you crying. And he also didn’t understand why his heart aches to hold you and comfort you. Even if he knows nothing on how to comfort a girl, let alone his crush.

“Hey sugar,” Sugawara then said as not to startle you. But you refuse to look at him, not wanting more memories to play or thoughts to plague. “H-hey, y-you okay?” Kageyama asked awkwardly. “We’ll sit here, okay?” Suagawara then said as he sat in front of you, Kageyama doing the same. As you continue to sniffle and cry, Sugawara and Kageyama let you have your silence for a while. It broke both of them to see you in this state. You are a very strong person, a person who rarely cries in front of people. And seeing you in this state, makes them sad. “Hi,” You then said as you looked up a bit. They took this signal as to come closer. “Ready to open up now, princess?” Sugawara then said as he pet your hair. Kageyama looked at him with a confused look, still doesn’t know what to do. “Why don’t you hold her hand, hm?” Sugawara then suggest. Kageyama then hesitantly reached out and hold your hand gently.

“Hugs please?” You then asked as you uncurled yourself. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your lips were trembling and became a darker shade. Your nose and cheeks were also a pinkish color. Sugawara and Kageyama somehow found it cute. Yet it was also a heart breaking sight as you were hurting. They both then attempted to wrap their arms around you. Which didn’t work, so Sugawara let Kageyama hold you in his arms as he would comfort you through words. Sugawara placed his hand on your hair and caressing it. “If you don’t want to tell us, it’s fine. But me and Kageyama would be honored to hear your thoughts,” Sugawara whispered. “Yeah, we want to know what you are thinking,” Kageyama said as he looked away.

As they continued to comfort you through words and touch, you calmed down. “Are you okay now, sugar?” Sugawara said softly. You buried yourself in Kageyama’s chest. “Kinda,” You then said as you looked at Sugawara. His eyes showed love and compassion, it was very soft as well. “Are you willing to tell us why you are crying?” Kageyama said as he looked down at you. “No,” You then said as you tried to pull away from him. But Kageyama didn’t let you go nor did he allow it. “I know I shouldn’t force you to tell us. And I’m not trying to but please we just want to help you,” He then said as he let go of you. “Kageyama is right. I- We hate seeing you like this,” Sugawara said as he gentle place his hand on your cheek.

“But if I tell you, you both would hurt more,” You then muttered as you look away from their gaze. “Sugar…” Sugawara then said as he wrapped his arms around you. “Please don’t bottle them up anymore,” He then added. “Now that I think about it, it does seem like we are both dating you,” Kageyama then said out of nowhere. Sugawara glared at him but soon softened when he heard you giggled. “Thank you guys really. I have no idea how you both fell for my idiotic self,” You then said as you wiped your tears. “I should thank you for even giving me a chance,” Sugawara said as he kissed your forehead. “Yeah…” Kageyama then said as he patted your head.

“You are standing between two mountains. So I understand it can get overwhelming. But remember that we are your friends as well. We agreed to do this and will endure everything and anything for you. Okay? So don’t feel bad or else I’ll hit you,” Sugawara then said seriously. “Boke, I don’t care what happens to me. As long as we are friends it’s fine,” Kageyama then said as he hugged you. Surprised, you let out some tears and hugged them both. “Thank you,” You said as you held them tight. “It’s not a problem, Boke,” Kageyama then whispered. “We should head back? Or maybe we can go a little detour?” Sugawara suggested. “And we’ll be heading back, no more tug of war from you two,” You then said as you started walking away. The two then looked at each other and smiled. “Wait for us!” Sugawara then said as he caught up with you and so did Kageyama.

Maybe, just maybe, one of their wishes would come true. Sugawara or Kageyama? You choose.

#anime #fanfic #fiction #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#sugawara kōshi #hq sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara fic #sugawara x y/n #Kageyama #Kageyama Tobio #tobio fluff #tobio x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu oneshot

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quirkdotcom · 5 years ago

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Where To? || Kaminari x Reader

Summary: Denki Kaminari has been working with the League of Villains for the school year. He's been putting up a front and fake personality to keep his secret safe. However, the one thing he didn't count on was you. In the end, Kaminari has been found in a pond, one hand from Shigaraki in his clutches. The twist on this world? Like a popular tik tok trend, when you die, someone you have hurt the most comes to decide if you go to heaven, or hell. And you are his judge.

Warnings: Death

Authors Note: I honestly started this at like 3AM one night and now here I am 😳 Anyways, I hope you guys like it sorry for the angst that comes with it

Tags: @ijustwannachangemyuser @bluewritesmha @that-lowkey-weeb @pinkcowgirleggpanda

One moment ago, you had been sitting in class, with the rest of 1A as they grieved together over the loss of Denki Kaminari.

Two moments ago, Aizawa was explaining how he had just received a call that Denki had been found, alone in a lake, his quirk the ultimate cause. But one other important piece of evidence with him, a hand from Tomura Shigaraki.

Three moments ago, he had been explaining about Kaminari being the traitor of UA, working closely with the League of Villains.

But now, you were standing across Kaminari in the same pond that he had been found in, an electrical current dying out as his cries stopped, his eyes finding yours.

"(Y/n)?" His voice was hoarse, eyes red and puffy.

You looked around, fog rolling in around your legs, though you couldn't feel the water that looked to surround you, nor the fog.

"So...the rumors are true...I didn't think that'd I'd have to decide anyones fate so soon but…"

"Wait...does that mean.." he started, but the words fell short, his amber eyes looking around once more.

"You've died…"

"Then that means, " he turned in a circle, shaking his head quickly, "He...he got away!"

You stepped closer to him, in response, he stepped away, "No! (Y/n) you have to be quick, decide my fate! Warn Aizawa Sensei that the league is on their way!"

"But...I need time…" you pulled back, hand falling to your side.

"Just choose hell and be on your way! Please!" He pleaded with you, still leaving an open space between the two of you.

You stared at him incredulously, "Kaminari...thats...I'd be damning you!"

"Maybe I deserve it!" He yelled, his frustration and hate taking over as he kicked his foot, creating a wave of water that didn't touch you.

"All I ever did was pretend to be an idiot and betray everyone around me! And now you're here, and I have hurt you one more time!" His hands shook as he held them up, staring at them as they flickered with electricity.

"I sold everyone out each time. He asked me questions and without fail I gave them to him."

You shook your head, "Come on...there had to have been a reason! Tell me that he was pressuring you or that he had some way of manipulating you!"

His hands slowly turned to fists as he dropped them to his sides, "You don't get it! I faked everything! I pretended about everything! I made friends in order to keep my cover safe! I even.. I even started to date you to keep my cover safe! So just hurry up and choose hell and go be a hero!"

You stood quietly, his words like knives digging into your heart, creating chasms of heartache. Hot tears filled your eyes, you could barely wipe them away in time for them to be replaced with new ones, "That's..that's not true! Don't say it!"

"(Y/n)!"

"No! Stop it! I won't believe it! I'm the one who gets to make the decision! Don't try to lie to me, I know what I felt and who I was with! You aren't like that!"

At once, everything grew silent, neither of you saying a word more.

Instead, you were reflecting.

"(Y/L/N) was it? Im Denki, Denki Kaminari! Hero name Chargebolt ! Aizawa seated you next to me, so that means we're going to be good friends, maybe more if you catch my drift,"

You turned to the guy in the seat next to yours, immediately smiling and shaking your head, "Pfft wow! Are you trying to make a move on me already! I just transferred into the class literal minutes ago!"

"Hey what can I say, if I don't do it now, then the others might beat me to it," he flashed a wink your way, earning another chuckle from you.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Kaminari, hopefully you help keep this class interesting," you held your hand out to him, watching as he shook it.

"Sooo does this mean I've been friend zoned?"

You didn't answer, only leaving him to guess as to what your answer was.

"You...you were the first to welcome me into the class...even if you did hit on me right away. " You smiled softly, that memory of him had always been oddly charming to you.

"Because I had to keep my persona up,"

"You walked me to my next class, and any that we shared. You helped me befriend Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Jirou and even Bakugo…"

"I already told you! I had to make sure no one questioned me or my actions!"

"The second day that I had been in that class, at lunch, I had forgotten mine...so you gave me half of yours…and told me that if it happened again, you'd share any day,"

He didn't say anything for a moment, smiling before he did say something, "Sero called me a simp…"

That day still felt so familiar to you….

"Oh no…." You looked around the table, seeing that the others, who's names you were still trying to learn, had all brought their lunches.

"What is it (Y/L/N)?" Came the pink haired girl, who's bubblegum skin matched in such a pretty shade. She looked so concerned for you, even if she didn't know you all that well.

You let out a sheepish laugh, "Ahh I forgot my lunch…this morning I was in a rush…"

"Hey! Have some of mine!" Kaminari grinned, pushing his towards you, "We can split it!"

You turned to him, mouth open a little as you were caught off guard, "Wait really??"

"Yeah! And if it happens again, I'll share my lunch again! You can count on me,"

From across the table, the black haired boy, who had a contagious smile, coughed loudly, or cleared his throat, you weren't fully sure

After that, lunch had went by so smoothly, as if you had been friends with them for years.

"And later that day, you even gave me your number! " he sat down, the pond water now going up to his stomach. Though, like you, he couldn't feel it. Whatever cold that seeped its way into his body, was long gone.

You nodded, following suit and taking a seat, though you didn't look at the water too much, it was cloudy and murky, something you hated about lakes and ponds, "Yeah, and you sent me memes, even in class!"

"Well, I wanted to see you smile…"

"I know…"

But perhaps the memory you would hold dearest to you, was one that he had tried so hard to block out as he worked with the League.

The UA Winter Formal...just a few months after you had transferred into UA. The crew in charge of decorations had outdone themselves.

What was once the cafeteria, was now a room beautifully lit by fairy lights and pale blue lanterns. There were silky streamers hung across the room, catching the reflection of the lights off of them. At the front, Present Mic was behind a dj booth, a line of students waiting to ask for a song to queued.

You walked further in, trying to spot anyone you knew.

Currently, you were dressed in a very light shade of yellow, so delicately pale that in this lighting, it would be mistaken for white.

"(Y/n)! Over here!" Came the call from Kirishima, waving you over.

"Kiri! You look so manly! And Bakugo, I didn't think you'd actually show up!" You grinned as you walked up, earning a 'thanks' from Kiri and a scowl from Bakugo.

For the next few moments, you exchanged compliments with Mina and Jirou, and then joked with Sero.

But when that all came to an usual stop, you realized what was missing, well..who was missing.

"Where's Kami?" You asked, having to raise your voice slightly over the music.

Bakugo turned to you, thinking back for a moment, "Dunce face said something about feeling claustrophobic or whatever, he said he'd be in the hall? I'm surprised you didn't see him on your way in,"

You nodded slowly, humming in return, "ah thanks," You left after that, making your way around the groups of people, waving as you could hear your name from some friends.

As you reached the entrance once again, you looked up and down the hall, spotting him a ways away by a window, wearing black slacks, a white undershirt and black suspenders, his blazer hanging off his arm loosely, he had a tie on, a darker shade of red.

"Kaminari! Hey!" You called, making your way over until you stood a foot away, "Why are you all the way out here?"

"It was hot and stuffy in there, I needed some fresh air...and I was waiting to see if I could spot someone on their way in,"

Again Kaminari flashed a dazzling smile at you. And suddenly, your breath hitched in your throat, cheeks heating up.

Your stomach filled with dainty butterflies and you're pretty sure your heart stopped beating.

What was going on?? Were you...crushing? But there's no way….

Sure Kaminari tended to flirt with you, and you always laughed at his jokes and smiled at him whenever he smiled at you.

And sure, sometimes when he handed you something your hand would brush his and you'd think about it for a few moments .

And then there was that time when you were paired up in hero training, and you almost fell off a building in the city area, and then he pulled you back and basically hugged you because you were scared and then later on that was all you could think of.

...okay yeah you were definitely crushing but why did it have to act up now ?!

"Uhh…(Y/n)??? Earth to (Y/n)?"

You blinked, looking back to Kaminari, who was now fully facing you instead of the window, "Sorry! I uh, spaced out there…"

"It's okay! I'm used to seeing you space off, you do it often," Denki laughed, only furthering the complicated feelings you were having.

"I don't do it too often…" you gave a small smile, knowing full and well that you ventured into wonderland quite often.

"Hey, (Y/n)...do you want to dance by any chance? Right here? I can still kind of hear the music,"

You gave a startled look, eyes wide as you took in what he said, but you quickly changed to a smile, "Yes! I'd love that!"

At your approval, Denki gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, almost stealing away all the air from your lungs.

You looked up to him, your hands moving up to circle around his neck loosely.

God he was so pretty. Even just the light that streamed in from the window seemed to make his eyes sparkle with their golden color.

"What are you doing?" He murmured, gazing back into your own eyes, an amused smile played out onto his face.

You shook your head quickly, looking down and away, words caught in your throat.

"(Y/n)...look at me,"

A hand moved away from your hip, gentle fingers cupping your face as he turned you to look at him.

You weren't sure how it happened...but in a fleeting moment, he had kissed you. At this point, you weren't sure if the tingles running throughout your body were caused by you, or him.

He pulled away for a breath with a smile, and you pulled him back for another kiss, an overwhelming feeling of happiness washing over you.

After that, you both had left from the dance, and enjoyed the rest of the night together, watching movies and playing video games. It was the beginning of your relationship.

"Denki.. whatever the reason for this...I know you aren't a villain. You're Denki Kaminari, the student who offered me lunch on my second day. You're the student who saw a general education kid crying and joked with them to make them feel better!"

"(Y/n)..."

"And you're the one who I..who I love okay? So stop trying to make me hate you! "

His eyes went wide, filling with more tears. You rushed to him through the mucky water, grasping him. You clutched at his clothes starting to cry with him.

"I love you so much and I'll always love you, I swear!" You buried your head into his neck, feeling him hold onto you just as tightly as you were holding onto him.

"(Y/n) I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I want more time with you, I want to spend life with you. Im sorry fuck..I love you so much. You're the reason I'm even here! Shigaraki was planning on attacking the school and he threatened you and I panicked and I tried to shock him and..and...the water here...I wasn't thinking," he started to work himself into a panic.

You stroked his hair, shushing him gently until you both calmed down enough.

Finally, he looked to you, amber eyes red and puffy just as you had found him, and asked with a sad smile, "So...where to?"

You shook your head, tears still falling as you kissed his forehead, the water and the area around you falling away, "I think we both know.."

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #mha #mha kaminari #bnha kaminari #mha denki #bnha denki #mha denki kaminari #bnha denki kaminari #Kaminari #denki #Kaminari denki #Kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader #Kaminari x reader

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paulieshore · 5 years ago

Text

Obey Me / SCM AU Series prt3

Words: 3806

Warnings: Some cusses

Characters belong to:

· Obey Me! – Shall We Date

· Voltage – Star Crossed Myth

MC is Y/N, you can gender bend if you please. Beginning of the story is a time line hop. ENJOY!!!!

Chapter 3: Goddess of Fate

She was a highly regarded goddess, loved and respect by all races and realms even before the great divide. She loved with all her being, all races were regarded the same, none above the other. Always choosing kindness.

She was the mentor of angels – by order of the King, creator of angels.

Fate’s greatest power other than her abundance of kindness was the gift of foresight, she could see all living beings’ fate.

She fell in love and married a god, one known as The God of the constellation Aquarius – Huedaut the wisest god of the heavens.

Fate and Huedaut never had children of their own, but never found themselves lonely as they were always surrounded by young angels. Fate’s main duty in the heavens, was guiding and training all angels to serve their purposes. Fate adored all her students; however, she grew rather fond of 7 angels in particular. These angels were young when they came into her care, all so very different in their own ways. Perhaps she was fond of these 7 because she knew what destiny had in store for them. She tended to treat them more like her own children, rather than her pupils. It was known throughout the heavens; fate favoured the saintly seven.

The eldest one became the Pride of the Heavens at a very early age. For he was beautiful and graceful, wise and hard working. Later, he was soon recognised and served both ministers of the departments, we’ll come back to that some other time….

All was well in the worlds for many years, for the most part.

Fate would fore-see things that have yet come to pass, or have passed. With help of other gods, as well as the young angels in her care, they would ‘stop’ such things from happening.

Fate had a dream of a war to come, demons and mortals alike would be slaughtered by the thousands. An uprising of darkness beyond anything that could possibly be fathomed. A King who thought that he was better than the rest, decided he wished to wipe out mankind and expand his territories. He believed mortals to be useless and powerless, nothing more but pawns to his dispense.

If this nightmare came to light, it would cause an unparallel crisis that would cost the ultimate price in order to rectify.

The price of life is death.

Fate tried to warn her king and fellow gods of her visions, but because of the past and grudges held causing the great divide. Her visions were written off as paranoia, this upset the goddess, she believed they doubted her powers due to her admiration for all creatures.

And so, that dreaded day came.

In the underworld, the under King called forth all his kin and set forth a motion. He desired more power declaring his uprising and campaigning for the age of darkness. Many of demons and servants apposed of his desire though, causing a civil war with in the underworld. This raged for years…

In the shadows; anarchy was rising upon earth, unbeknown to the beings in the sky.

A messenger was sent from below to the heavens for aid one day. The king over looked this dispute as ‘dark business’ and along with many other gods who decided they would have no part in the fight.

For once upon a time, those same demons mutinied with mortals and caused great deaths to their kind. Thus, creating the great divide, when three realms were created.

It was the Goddess of Fate who for seen what was to come next, the complete wipe out of humanity. She tried to speak to her husband about it, but he was absolute upon his kings wishes. His loyalty completely given to his king; no gods were to have involvement in the underworlds war.

She felt heart broken, betrayed and powerless... She then tried pleading to her king, but was too ignored.

‘Leave them to their fate young goddess, it is not our war.’

It was when her fellow kin refused to hear her reasoning, that she knew what she needed to do. Even if it meant going against her kings wishes, treason. A crime punishable by death, whatever she must do must be equivalent to her punishment.

“Balance”

Her visions further came to light. Dark forces grew, massacring those in the human realm. Whether they were loyal or not. The balance of all realms was at great risk, causing even the heavens to feel the ripple effects of utter chaos from the mass-murders taking place.

The people screamed and prayed to their gods, that forsake them.

Was only then, did the celestial realm intervene.

The only way to stop it all, was to stop the Dark King and all his disciples.

All the deaths, sins, chaos and discord fed power to the Dark King and his army. It took everything all realms had joined together, but ultimately the goddess of fate sacrificed her life to save the humanity for all races. For she and she alone had the power to ‘seal’ one’s fate, and so she did. Binding the Dark King to a tomb, depleting his powers and allowing beings alike to finish the war, once and for all.

A selfless sacrifice, gave great victory.

Bringing balance to the realms, and imprisoning the under king. After her death, new orders were placed in her memory.

A new king was crowned in hell, to keep history from repeating itself.

The king of the heavens also established 2 Departments, one of Wishes and one of Punishments, to allow a fair and just way moving forward.

Though her death brought some good, it left behind a terrible void.

Her husband.

You see when gods marry and pledge themselves; it’s for all eternity, even in death. Huedaut can never be with another, only his goddess.

Huedaut felt immense guilt for being too blind to his king’s declaration and not listening to his wife’s warning. Choosing his King over his Love, he blamed himself for not being able to save her when she was still alive, he hated himself.

He confronted his king and very old friend, wishing for a way he could save her…. With permission from his king, he gave up the stars in one of his eyes in order to bring her back.

Only fate was cruel to him, she would not return as she was.

She was later reborn as a human… thousands of years later, with no memory of her former life.

The angels were devasted with the loss of their mentor, for she was like a mother to them all. The eldest of the 7 angels who was closets to fate, closed himself off from connecting deeper with anyone else other than his siblings. It’s believed to be that; this birthed the rebellion of the one who was called, the pride of the heavens.

Lucifer.

Back to our story time line…

The House of Lamentation-

Barbatos enters the dining room, “Ah gentlemen, your all here. Good.”

Lucifer turns around from the head of the table, “What brings you by unexpectedly, Barbatos?”

He gives the brothers a sympathetic look...

“A visitor with a message...” He shuffles to the side and bows.

Karno steps into the dining area. Looking high and low of his surroundings, hands together behind his back.

Satan jumps from seat and lunges, “What do YOU want!?” Mammon and Asmo are quick to catch him, stopping him from doing anything rash. All he could do was point, at the uninvited visitor.

“I apologies for turning up without forewarning-“ Karno tries to say before being interrupted.

“YOU better have a valid excuse for showing your face here! There’s seven of us and only one of you, you’ve walked right into a demon’s den!” Belphie is barely able to keep control, changing into his demon form.

Beel immediately stands up and blocks Belphie’s line of view, “No brother, don’t do this.”

The air was stiff and tense.

“I have a message from Y/N, if you don’t care about it, ill take my leave then...” Raising his hand.

“NO! Wait…Please, give us the letter!” Mammon let’s go of Satan and rushes towards Karno.

Karno slowly brought his hand down, and retrieved the letter from within his suit, handing it.

He firmly held onto the letter as he passed it to Barbatos. “She’s always been a good girl. She cares with all her being, just as she always has. If you can’t take her seriously and be honest with her... Let her go, before she or any of you get hurt any further, or worse.”

He paused before finishing, “There’s no second chances for anybody this time…” Giving a quick look over at all the faces present.

Barbatos gently tugs the letter free, and passes it to Mammon at his side.

*Snap* and Karno vanishes.

Barbatos takes his leave as well, deciding to give the brothers some privacy.

Mammon’s hands begin to tremble a bit as he stared at the paper in hand, “It... It smells like her…” Eyes already beginning to swell up.

Lucifer walks over and gently takes the letter from Mammon, “Would you like me to read it aloud?” Looking back at his younger siblings watching on edge.

Everyone nods simultaneously.

“Very well…” Unfolding the letter, he clears his throat… “I don’t care if they write back or not is what I want to say….

…

…. And Lucifer isn’t trying to kill them for driving him nuts.” after finishing the letter, Lucifer momentarily spaces out.

Followed by a smile.

Mammon was sniffling, Asmo and Levi also on the verge of tears.

Satan, Beel and Belphie smiling to themselves as well.

Mammon couldn’t hold it together anymore, “I miss you!” as he dropped to the ground and wept. Levi joins Mammon on the floor, crouching next to his brother silently crying himself.

That night was the quietest it ever had been, no fighting, no name calling. The only sounds heard; was that of silence.

Across devildom a scene was unfolding...

Diavolo was sitting on a balcony in the Demon lords castle, staring into the dark sky. *Puff* A cloaked figure appears down below, Diavolo looked down and frowned “Never thought I’d see you again.”

The pink haired man with a beauty spot under his eye smirks to the prince, “Hello, old friend. It’s been some time hasn’t it.”

Diavolo stands, “Pray tell, what brings you back then?” holding onto the banister and staring down to the undetected visitor.

“I’ve come to catch up” A cunning smile peaks from the cloaked visitor.

Morning, Back at the House of Gods

Simeon and Luke dropped in for a visit, following you up with the events back in devildom.

“So, what’s with all the precaution, who was that... thing, that was trying to kill me?” You looked to Simeon from your tea cup.

“The Dark King, or was before. The ruler of Hell.” Simeon plainly states.

You stared in disbelief “Diavolo’s father?”

Luke shook his head next, “No, Diavolo’s family ascended to the throne when the dark king was imprisoned.” He slightly paused, “Before the Celestial War there was another war that took place prior to it.” He hesitated and looked to Simeon.

“Yes, a war that the heavens originally wanted to play no part in… Though a grand goddess died in that war...” Simeon looks away from you.

You sat and thought “I was that goddess somehow, wasn’t I?” Observing the two who refused to look you in the eye.

“Yes.” A stern but firm voice sounds inside the room.

The three of you turned your heads, another god you presumed. This one wearing a punishment uniform, a side ponytail, of long sleek hair. His face as stern as his voice, next to him a beautiful little girl.

Simeon and Luke jumped to attention. “Lord Zyglavis, Lady Vega!”

The little lady smiles. “You’ve been summoned!”

“Yes, my’ lady!” and with that they were gone, left just you and him.

You slowly rose to your feet, “Um, hello…. Sir?” you really didn’t like throwing around the sir card, but didn’t know exactly how to address ‘gods’.

“Y/N, I am Zyglavis, Minister of the Department of Punishments. God of the constellation Libra.” He looked you up and down. “I and Karna, have been assigned the duty to safe guard you for the time being.”

Ah hell, you thought, this guy looks mean.

Could probably rank him next to Satan for mean looking. Don’t make this one angry you noted.

“I apologise for my rudeness; can I offer you tea?” Gesturing to the tea pot atop the table.

“Let’s cut the small talk. How much do you know, Y/N?” He takes no more than 4 steps before he’s towering over you.

Once he was close, you got a good look at his handsome features. It was astonishing how handsome each of the gods were. Countering their really bad attitudes, was it just how gods were? Absolute of masculinity and massive douche bags?

The one called Zyglavis, had long sleek eyelashes that guarded his deep blue/grey eyes. Above were fleek eyebrows; the same colour of his lashes and hair. A strong jawline that led down to a pointed chin, amaranth thin lips pursed, and a fitting nose. Perfectly proportioned to his face.

Zyglavis could see you not paying attention to his words, “Do you enjoy staring at my face mortal?” His voice pinged you back to reality.

You shook your head and began to feel your cheeks burn.

“No? Is my face not as appealing as the others then, hmm?”

“No, No, No!! I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, what I mean is, well - well your face is n-nice!” You were a bag full of nerves by now, face gone scarlet red from embarrassment.

His face though never changing, tone dropping ever more, “Listen well Y/N, you may admire the individuals you see around here. BUT that is all, love, feelings, intimacy between gods and mortals is forbidden. The others may tempt you, but remember monopolising a god to love and only love you is a sin of the highest order.” Staring you down.

“Would never dream of it!” Saluting the one before you.

He made a *tsk* sound before his face contorted into one of annoyance, “I will ask you only once more, how much do you know?” Leaning towards you, eyes levelled.

Down in Devildom

- Shadows were stirring in the depths. –

*School Council Meeting was called at RAD*

“As of this moment all activities and involvement for the exchange program have come to a halt.” Diavolo looks around to all present. “Considering the recent events, we can not afford any more liabilities that can and has threatened what the program stands for.”

Asmo tilts his head, “So has Solomon also been sent back to the human realm?”

Diavolo nods his head in accordance, “Asmodeus, as you have a pact with Solomon, I am also assigning you to keep a watchful eye on him. Desperate times are approaching, which will call for desperate measures. Be sure Solomon does not wonder too far, and is kept safe until we can solidify saver means.”

Asmo lowers his head and nods.

Belphie who had been sitting quiet perks up, “I once was appose to this program, for other means. However, I must admit, things are going to seem grim without Y/N and the others around.”

“Y/N isn’t all she seems to be…” Diavolo points out, not realising he said his thoughts out loud.

“What do you mean?!” Lucifer sprang to his feet. “Y/N is clueless, yes, she’s nosey and always causing a ruckus where-ever she seems to be. Though I can assure you Diavolo. Y/N means us no harm, Y/N is –“

Diavolo was startled by Lucifer, it took him by surprise to see him so flustered, defending you. “I didn’t mean to speak nor offend, however there is something you should all know...” Cutting Lucifer off.

Barbatos was next to speak, “It seems King Kivy was well aware of Diavolo saving Lilith.”

Jaws dropped; all eyes widened.

Mammon let out a gasp of horror next to Levi, “What do you mean he’s aware? How, what’s going on?”

“It would appear nothing gets passed your father, Mammon.” Diavolo adds.

“HE IS NOT OUR FATHER!” Satan, Lucifer, and Belphie’s voices blare through the hall in unison.

…

Beel who was sitting quietly next to Belphie asks, “What does any of this have to do with Y/N? She isn’t being punished on our offences, is she?” face ridden with worry.

“No, she is being treated as well as they can treat her.” Barbatos tries to console Beel and reaches for his shoulder.

He is quick to shake off Barbatos’ hand, “What does that mean? ‘As well as they can’? How do you know this!?” An aura starts to surround Beel.

“Enough.”

Everyone turns their attention to Diavolo rising from his chair.

“The goddess of fate has been amongst us, or should I say, an incarnation.”

Many looks of confusion and shock as everyone wanted to hear what was to be said next.

“When I saved your sister, it didn’t go unnoticed as I thought it had. Kivy knew…”

Lucifer puts in, “Yet he did nothing, it’s hard to believe. He’s to blame for what happened to Lilith, it’s his fault... All of this, it’s all his fault!”

“I said that’s enough, Lucifer!” Diavolo roared throughout the hall. “Leave us and return home, I think you should take some time to calm down. We can continue this discussion later.”

It was extremely rare ever to see Lucifer and Diavolo at odds with one another, perhaps it was the shifting in forces. Perhaps it was the shadows in the depths rising; poisoning the air and stirring their chaos into the hearts and souls of all.

Lucifer lowered his head and turned away from his younger siblings, Barbatos escorting him out of the meeting.

“Do you want to know?” Diavolo turns his question to the remaining council.

Heads nodding, “What about Lucifer though?” Mammon asks, as his eyes never leaving the doorway his eldest brothers’ figure disappeared through.

“We will fill him in when he’s calmed down first, rest assured Mammon.”

When Lucifer pledged his loyalty to Diavolo, Diavolo saved Lilith, that was the price. Allowing her soul to be reincarnated as a mortal, she lived a happy life. Had a family of her own and created her own mortal bloodline, a life with no memories of her brothers until she died of old age.

Only very few knew this, even you knew of this now. Knew of your bloodline, who your ancestor was. Diavolo and many others believed King Kivy was unaware of this.

They were wrong.

Before the Celestial War was a war not many speak of. A war that cost the life of a Goddess, a great sacrifice (that could have been avoided).

Before Diavolo’s family reigned, before Lucifer and his siblings fell.

The dark ages.

It was after the war of the dark ages that Lucifer’s rebellion festered. Leading to the story you know now….

“Do you guys remember the story about the goddess of fate.” Diavolo asks

“Remember? Of course, we remember her….” Asmo trails off.

Diavolo smiles, “Was shortly after her great sacrifice that I met your brother, when the agreement was made for my family to regain order down here...” He gestured his hands up.

Diavolo decides to tell them what he knew.

“Are you saying the Y/N isn’t just Lilith’s descendant but is also the reincarnation of fate?!?!” Belphie asked in complete confusion.

“Yes, you see, Kivy allowed the god of Aquarius to save his beloved just as I had saved your sister. It seems I was only able to save Lilith because Fate allowed it.” Diavolo stared down, tapping his finger to his lips.

“Of course, mother even in death would be watching out for us…” Beel’s lips slightly rose.

“Mother?” Diavolo squinted at Beel’s remark.

Mammon was next to speak, “Not biological, but she took care of us before she died… She was our hero and mentor, Lucifer adored her… Well to be fair everyone adored her...”

“I knew her eyes reminded me of someone.” Lucifer’s voice startled everyone.

“Lucifer” Diavolo rises and slowly walks towards his friend. “I thought I told you to go home, calmed down already?”

With a nod, “I apologise for my outburst early, it will not happen again.” Bowing deeply to his lord.

The House of Gods

You sat there twiddling your thumbs and biting your bottom lip, trying to make sense of it all.

“So… I have stars in my eyes?”

Zyglavis nods to you.

Moments ago, he came in here guns blaring. Telling you, not only were you Lilith’s descendant, but a reincarnation of a former goddess. I mean, it was something straight out of one of those animes Levi is always playing; but this was your life.

YOUR FRICKEN LIFE

“Tell me former goddess, do you think they care about you because of the mortal you are. Or perhaps all your previous life connections?” Zyglavis waits for your answer.

Snap, his question had you triggered.

“Stop! I don’t want to hear it; I know what you all think of them! But let me tell you, don’t for one fucking second think I’m going to sit here and let you bash them to my face!” You stood up abruptly. “All this time I have been here, I have met ‘gods’ with worse attitudes then those ‘filthy demons’ you keep calling out!”

Zyglavis calmly stands up from the other side of the table, “So tell me this then, seeing as they care so much about you... Why haven’t they been in contact for your well-being, hmmm?” Giving you a smug look.

You wanted to scream, shout, hell you wanted to start throwing things around.

What he said though hit some where deep…

You said you didn’t care, but hell, truth was that was a lie.

…

Why haven’t they contacted?

“Never trust a demon. Mortals, gods, angels, we’re all just pawns in their eyes.” Zyglavis starts walking towards the door “The sooner you open your eyes and face reality, the better.”

*SLAM*

You were left alone, standing and staring into nothing, tears threatening the bays of your eyes.

“Am I really just another pawn to other means?” You whispered to yourself.

Wishing you could just wake up from this horrible dream, and find yourself surrounded by the very boys you wished to see so badly.

A wish she knew would never be granted.

“Why…. Why haven’t they reached out for me… *hic*”

To Be Continued

CH1- Ch2 - Ch4 - CH5

Thanx for reading! I hope you enjoyed, if you did like, reblog, comment!

38 notes · View notes

charmingpplincardigans · 6 years ago

Text

Here are some things that I love:

Crowley

This Kiki Smith sculpture that I spent A LOT of time staring at while it was at the MFA in Boston

Crowley and Aziraphale’s combined post-Apocalypse love language being a desire to meet each other in the middle of their respective becomings and still having to work out all the kinks in that.

There is no purpose to this and I don’t even know if it’s worth putting on AO3, but here, for people who also like it when angels and demons discuss art.

. . .

They hadn't properly been to a museum together in a couple of years. Of all the places the two of them met up during the anti-christ years, museums had been Crowley’s favorite. As spaces they were just so...human. Not that there were many places you could go on the planet to escape humanity if you wanted to, but museums tended to be one of those places of unguarded emotion. It was enough to make a demon reconsider his place in the world, which he supposed was the point.

Crowley had been to a few opening nights at galleries without Aziraphale, but those pit stops hadn't been about Art so much as they'd been about the stark distinction between the solace art can bring to a soul and the greed, avarice, and lust that usually floated around circles of artists. Easy temptations as those things went.

Strictly speaking, whenever Crowley met Aziraphale at a gallery before the Apocalyse That Wasn't, that had not been about Art either, but distracting Aziraphale and coaxing him into a contemplative mood about the nature of humanity as represented in chaotic drip and splatter paintings or calm, staid blocks of color was an even easier temptation than the ones he pulled on the artists. Probably because he knew Aziraphale so very well and was well-versed in his opinion on wine and canapes to be had at quaint little bars inside museums. The angel's opinion was, almost unwaveringly, strongly in favor.

This time it was about the art. Outwardly and ostensibly, anyway. Inwardly it was also about the itch that had been working its way down Crowley's back like the universe’s slowest drop of infernal sweat for the last month or so. Once a being became used to looking over their shoulder they would be doing it for the rest of their life. Just because the thing they expected to find there had stopped looking at them did not mean the being could just accept they were free and move on with their lives sans hunted and haunted feeling. Crowley and Aziraphale had effectively scared off Heaven and Hell for the time being, but that didn't mean they'd scared them off forever, and there were ever so many seconds between now and forever when Crowley's growing paranoia might prove itself well-founded.

(Update, now on AO3 after all, if you prefer to read there.)

Because of this, staying in one place became harder and harder every day. He had not yet successfully convinced Aziraphale to truly get out of dodge, though he’d floated many tempting destinations: the cusp of the aurora borealis, a dynamic volcano range on Venus, Iceland. The angel resisted every invitation. He claimed he needed to do inventory on the newly restored bookshop, which quickly turned into what might be a several year long effort to re-read everything in it and check Adam's handiwork for discrepancies. But even with this undertaking Crowley had successfully gotten him out of the shop a few times.

Usually that happened when Crowley became so tired of sitting in patches of sun and pretending to be interested in Foucault that he threatened to go somewhere else on his own and Aziraphale, who had been reluctant to let the demon out of his sight since they'd been returned to Earth more or less unharmed, promptly closed up the shop and offered to come with him. Crowley was still working out how he felt about this development, but for now he more or less approved.

They didn't have to hide anything anymore, which meant he didn't have to hide how important their shared history was to him and how much genuine pleasure he got from luring Aziraphale out on small adventures. Which was how they now found themselves in an art museum looking at a sculpture titled Lilith and comparing it to their memory of the real thing.

"She looks hungry," Aziraphale said. "Did that girl ever look so hungry to you? Do you remember?"

He had his head tilted back to look up at where the life sized sculpture was mounted above them on the wall. His left hand rested in the front pocket of his overcoat, but his right arm hung at his side, pinky just barely brushing against the back of Crowley's hand, a gentle reminder that they were both still there.

"They were all made hungry at first, weren't they? For each other and for the horizon? Insurance, I’d say."

Crowley had his right arm crossed behind his back, holding the elbow of his left close to his side. It was to keep himself in check. As much as Aziraphale did not like to take his eyes of Crowley in this shiny new world, Crowley did not like to take his hands off Aziraphale.

They were both fighting millennia of incompatible conditioning in their own ways. Some days it resulted in time spent pressed together and getting so wrapped up in each other's bodies they forgot to speak. Some days it resulted in arguments neither of them knew how not to have. It was all very different from the bickering and careless touching that had come before. The weight of their changing relationship was heavily yoked across Crowley's shoulders, but it was a weight he welcomed.

"To make sure the hard work was appreciated, you mean?" Aziraphale asked.

"To make sure everything got kicked off. You don't think They had us make all of that just to let Their creation be contained to one small walled in oasis in the desert? Come on, angel. You know better than that."

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Why shouldn't I believe She wanted them to be happy, to revel in the beauty gifted them?"

"Angel," Crowley said.

It was half admonishment and half question. After everything, finally, Aziraphale had to know that the Almighty's intentions weren't universally good for those in Their charge. The two of them were proof of that. Or, at the very least, they were proof that just because machinations had been put into place, that didn't mean they were worthy of being seen through. Or that the beings doing the overseeing wouldn't twist them to their own ends when left to their own, bloodthirsty druthers.

He turned his head to look at Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale's blue eyes were staring steadily into the blue eyes of the sculpture. It really was very lifelike, with its clear, piercing eyes and the smoked, charred appearance of the bent and crouching body. One hand ground itself to the wall and one hand ended at the wrist as if it was meant to be disappearing into the boundary between them.

Myths circulated among some of the humans that Lilith had somehow straddled realms, that she conquered angels and birthed demons. Of course, no demons had been born of another body. All of them, to Crowley's knowledge, had been born of only the fault lines that ran through their own cracked shells. Crowley, who had many faults, had also once been charred all black and shadowed with the red of his wounds.

“The very making of them was a promise,” Aziraphale insisted.

“To who?” Crowley asked, incredulous. “There wasn’t anything to it. Here, have some green things and some new creatures and some teeth. Gnaw your way through the world, you’ll figure it out.”

“That was faith,” Aziraphale said. “And faith is perhaps the most important thing a being can have.”

He looked at Crowley with a fierceness in his eyes that reminded Crowley of kneeling on a tarmac and wondering, for just a second, what part of him was going to end up with a flaming sword in it. He still felt a little guilty for that fear, for being afraid of Aziraphale of all beings, but in his defense, a lot of acutely predicted unpredictable things had happened up to that point and he had quite lost his grip on the way things were supposed to be.

“Don’t know from faith,” Crowley grumbled. “The only thing I believe in is you.”

Aziraphale’s gaze softened considerably. “There was good to be found in Heaven when we were building,” he said. “Surely you remember that. And if there ever was good I think there still must be.”

“Good and altruism are not the same thing,” Crowley said. “Good can mean anything, depending.” They both knew that to be true. It was in fact the truth The Arrangement was predicated on.

"I'm just having a hard time of it, my dear," Aziraphale whispered. "I feel so...alone without all the rest of them, even after everything. Cut out, something has been cut out of me and while it is still hurting, it doesn't help when you gloat."

"I wasn't– " Crowley started, but he bit himself off.

Of course he was, though he hadn't meant to be. Not that his intention mattered when it was his utter certainty in the fallibility of Heaven that rubbed Aziraphale raw.

Crowley had tried for thousands of years to get Aziraphale to believe that they themselves were all they really had, and now they were. In theory he had won, but in practice they had both lost a lot. And while Crowley had never believed in Hell—because by its very nature Hell did not give demons things to believe in so much as it gave them a shared enemy in Heaven—Aziraphale had believed in Heaven. Wholly. With every part of himself.

Aziraphale was a creature of love so purposeful that he believed all angels were creatures of love, and that love was meant to be their purpose. Even when confronted with proof of the contrary, he never stopped believing his brethren could be better. Crowley was positive that Gabriel, for instance, would not be able to pick love out of a lineup if it offered itself up with an explanation, a prayer, and a perfectly tailored pair of trousers. Aziraphale, in contrast, didn't know how to let love go. He loved when it was a celebration and he loved when it was a wake. Aziraphale loved Crowley, against all odds, or maybe because of them. Maybe because of how odd the pair of them were, because they'd lived so long in each other's pockets it couldn't be helped.

Crowley loved Aziraphale because, well, the list was very long, but one of the bullets was definitely the way he was currently standing in a public art museum, eyes misting under the pressure of their new lives catching up to him. The new absences in both of them were heavy, but they were free to feel that heaviness, and wasn’t that something.

They could, perhaps in time, come to fill those absences with each other, but it would have to be done carefully, deliberately, and with the knowledge that it was impossible to make another being your whole world. It was also unfair. At the very least you needed to take up some of that space yourself. Just to give your beloved a place to come home to.

Crowley released his grip on his own elbow. He bumped Aziraphale's hand with his to warn him that there was movement incoming. Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder, and pulled him close so that he could press a quick kiss to his forehead before letting Aziraphale tuck his face into Crowley's black, padded shoulder.

"I don't mean to gloat," he said. "But I won't lie to you either."

"No," Aziraphale said, voice muffled in Crowley's jacket collar. "I don't want you to. You never have have you?"

"Not when it mattered," Crowley said.

Aziraphale wiped at his eyes with a quick, small movement that Crowley pretended not to see.

"Do you remember what happened to her?” he asked. “I'm afraid I never made it a point to check up."

"Just as well. I'm sure she'd had enough of angels there by the time she'd been replaced. But yeah, she did alright. She survived for a time."

"They're all so very good at that," Aziraphale said. "They look fragile, but they're all so very resilient."

"So are we," Crowley said. "It's hard to tell sometimes whose image any of us were really made in."

Aziraphale reached across Crowley and grabbed a hold of his free hand. He squeezed it tight before loosening back into a more relaxed grip. They stood like that for another fifteen or so minutes while Aziraphale composed himself. He let out a few shaky breaths that Crowley would never mention, tilted his head up to kiss Crowley's cheek, and then pulled away.

The sudden emptiness at his side reminded Crowley that they likely weren't alone, but when he turned to survey their surroundings none of the handful of museum goers were paying them any mind.

"Where to now, angel?" Crowley said.

Aziraphale pulled the map from his pocket and studied it. “Oh look, he said, as he pointed to a purple square. “They have some Monets.”

Crowley sighed. “Fine. But I did tell him, I said Claude, if I see another water lily for the rest of my life it will be too soon.”

Aziraphale folded the map and slid it back into his pocket. “And what did he say to that?”

“That’s quite the point,” Crowley said, mimicking a French accent. “And then he went into that cathedral because he knew I couldn’t follow. The bastard.”

“Ah, Rouen,” Aziraphale said. “Well, you can’t argue with an impending sense of mortality anyway.” He stepped away from Crowley to move on to the next gallery.

Crowley took one last look at the frozen Lilith and then followed. “I’ll have you know I can argue with anything. Those were some nice sunsets though. He captured that alright.”

“Mmm, I remember Mesopotamia, right before the clouds rolled in. A sunset always could still that forked tongue of yours.”

“I’ll sssstill my tongue on you.”

Aziraphale laughed. The sound of it startled both Crowley and the humans near them. “Oh yes, I’m sure,” he said. “But let’s save that for later.”

Crowley trailed after Aziraphale and thought that, of all the promises available in the world, the promise of a later was his absolute favorite.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #art museum fun times #kiki smith #lilith #god i love that sculpture #i miss it something awful

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aquilaofarkham · 7 years ago

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title: bad things come in threes rating: teen and up (death, canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language) word count: 3,747 summary: three pivotal scenes revolving around the main trio that act as a prologue to Netflix’s Castlevania - the destruction of the Belmont manor, Sypha traveling with the Speakers, and Alucard witnessing Lisa’s execution.

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TARGOVISTE, WALLACHIA

“They found a witch on the outskirts of the city.”

Mother always told him to ignore what others said about his family, no matter how hurt or angry he felt. People always fear what they cannot comprehend. But he should never believe what they say.

“The doctor? Always knew there was something suspicious about her.”

“What will happen to her?”

“Nothing good.”

Now Adrian isn’t sure, and it kills him inside. He tries blocking out every overheard voice as he rushes through the woods at an inhuman speed. They say the church found Lisa, formerly of Lupu, and are now acting upon their heinous superstitions. Adrian doesn’t want to believe it. The half human half vampire holds onto the hope that there’s still enough time; he’ll reach her long before they have a chance to. If he meets the witchfinders, he knows what must be done.

With his long coat billowing in the wind, Adrian tells himself to keep running. Stop for nothing. His determination is only outmatched by his rising hatred for those who are allowing this. The Bishop of Targoviste, the Witchfinder General, the ones who saw his mother’s skill as a doctor and said witch. Devil worshipper. And what of those who benefitted from Lisa’s goodness? They entrusted the lives of their families and themselves to a headstrong woman who healed their many ailments. Where are they?

Adrian chastises himself for not being there sooner. Against his own wishes, he lets genuine panic bleed into his more level-headed thoughts. Soon enough, he arrives at winding path lined with wildflowers. He’s close. Yet the once welcoming sight gives Adrian no relief, only more dread. He looks up and sees a tower of smoke rising higher into the sky. The dhampir runs further down the path, just to be greeted by something he only ever saw in his nightmares. Lisa’s clinic, his second home, engulfed in flames. Adrian should have known that no amount of reassurance or “there’s still time” muttered under his breath would have been enough to save it.

He doesn’t allow himself to break down. Not yet, not when he sees a familiar silhouette kneeling in front of the fire. Beside them lies another body dressed in the garb of the witchfinders. Adrian cautiously steps forward but before he can speak, their head spins around like a frightened animal, jumping at every out of place sound.

“Julia... it’s alright, it’s only me.” Upon hearing Adrian’s soft voice, Julia Laforenze, Lisa’s most trusted assistant, takes a few sorely needed breaths of relief. Her usually well kempt hair is in tangles, her clothes are dirtied with ash, and she is still visibly distraught, but she manages to stand on her feet.

“Adrian, thank God you’re okay.”

“What happened? Where is my mother?”

“It was a normal evening. We were tending to some patients but once they all left, the witchfinders and priests, they... they came for us.” Adrian listens intently, despite knowing how hard it will be. “They wouldn’t even allow us to speak up for ourselves. They didn’t care. The priest leading them ordered for everything to be destroyed. The medicine, Lisa’s notebooks... they’re all gone.”

“Julia... where is Lisa?”

“They took her. I know they don’t have the mercy to give her a fair trial.”

Adrian glances at the body; his limbs are bent in unnatural positions while black bile oozes out of his eyes and mouth. “What of him?”

“He tried to take me as well. But he won’t be a problem for us. Not now... not ever again.”

The dhampir feels a shiver crawl up the back of his neck, yet he holds no sympathy for the witchfinder. Julia, much like Lisa, is a kind woman with good intentions. Unlike Lisa, she was born with abilities beyond understanding and has never been afraid of them. Nor has she ever been hesitant to use these powers.

“Do you know where they might be holding her?”

“The cathedral. I’m coming with you.”

Adrian places his hands upon Julia’s shoulders. “No, they’ll be looking for you. Is there anything that can be salvaged? Anything you and my mother worked on together?”

Julia ponders his question for a brief moment. “There might be some small things. I’ll try my best.”

“Take whatever you find and go to the Baljihet Mountains. You’ll be safe there.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going into the city. I’m going to find her.”

“Wait, Adrian!” Before he can leave, Julia steps forward and wraps her arms around him. The embrace is short, too short for either of their liking, but time is of the essence. It’s enough to show how much Julia cares about him and his family. “Take care and good luck. If you ever need me... you know where to search.”

Adrian looks at her as if to say, “I wish the same for you.” Not wasting another second, he darts back down the path. It seems as though the running will never stop. That’s all the Țepeș family has been doing these past twenty years. Running from the church, from witchfinders, from fellow creatures of the night who were less than enthusiastic of the marriage between a vampire and a human. Or the birth of a bastard dhampir.

The gates of Targoviste come into view sooner than Adrian expected. Fortune may actually be on his side after all. There aren’t any guards in sight; another sign in his favour. As Adrian makes his way through the city, he notices how the streets seem oddly deserted. No horses, no carts, or citizens visiting their local tavern for a long night of drinking. It’s as if something is attracting everyone together, young and old, poor and rich, drawing them to a single location.

An execution.

Adrian doesn’t want to think the worst but it’s the only thing propelling him towards the grand cathedral situated at the very centre of Targoviste. Just as he reaches his destination, he skids to a halt as a distant golden hue catches his eye. An impenetrable crowd blocks Adrian’s view, but the dhampir is resourceful. He assesses his surroundings and quickly finds the ideal vantage point. Climbing the overarching buildings is no challenge for him.

After reaching the top, Adrian looks down, nearly blinded by fiery embers carried by the wind. The heat on his face is unbearable but he cannot turn away from the woman tied to the pyre. Lisa’s dress is nothing more than a rag and the long golden hair he used to braid white flowers into has been cut short. She doesn’t beg or cry out in pain; she won’t give the crowd that kind of satisfaction.

Adrian’s human heart pounds with relentless hatred. He grips his sword handle with a force that could snap it in half. Glaring down at the church members and witnesses, he hungers for their blood. Angry, monstrous tears well up in his eyes as he pictures each and every one of them dead. Their hearts, organs, and limbs strewn across the cobblestone streets while the gutters overflow with their blood. The dhampir’s humanity overcome by rage. Maybe then his father’s “friends” will finally accept him as one of their own.

“Don’t hurt them! They don’t understand!” Adrian’s thoughts of death are cut off when he hears Lisa’s voice shouting over the flames. He watches his mother lifting her face to the heavens. Can she see him?

“I know it’s not your fault... but, if you can hear me, they don’t know what they’re doing! Be better than them!”

Be better than them. You place too much faith in me, mother. But Adrian cannot move. His anger still burns, yet his grip on the crissaegrim loosens ever so slowly. Should he heed Lisa’s final wishes? If he doesn’t, is this truly how he wants to honour her memory?

There are so many things Adrian wants. His mother alive, the ones responsible dead, his family left alone. This overwhelming feeling of guilt and self-loathing to end. You’re wrong, mother. It is my fault.

Vlad should be returning home soon. Adrian will go to his father and mourn alongside him. Then they will discuss what must be done.

ENISALA, WALLACHIA

Sypha misses the countryside.

Who wouldn’t? It’s vast, quiet, and lonely but not the unbearable sort. One can be at peace with their thoughts without much disturbance. The opposite of a city like Enisala. Crowded, loud, claustrophobic, and with too many wandering eyes staring while a traveling congregation of hooded, blue-clad Speakers make their way down each street. The real reason why Sypha and her group keep to the alleyways; better they don’t become the centre of attention. Especially with children under their protection.

“We should hurry,” Arn mentions. “They might leave without us.”

“They would not do that. Stop worrying.” One child grabs onto Sypha’s hand in order to keep up as they move. Speaking to another in Spanish helps her feel more at ease, though Arn’s concern is not unfounded. Sypha knew tensions were steadily rising among the people of Wallachia. She didn’t need her grandfather to tell her that. But when they arrived in Enisala to offer their assistance and join a separate train of Speakers, things were far worse than anyone expected. Superstitions, paranoia, citizens turning against one another. People calling for anyone suspected a witch to be burned alive immediately. A mirror of Targoviste.

“It’s wrong,” Sypha mumbles.

“What did you say?”

“I said it’s wrong what happened to that woman.”

Arn knows what Sypha is referring to. The Speakers travel fast, but terrible news travels even faster. “You don’t believe she was a witch?”

“No. Even if she was, she did not deserve to die like that.” Sypha holds the trembling child close against the side of her body. Every word she says is dripping with disgust.

“You are right. It was a great injustice no matter what, but did you hear what happened following her burning?”

“No...”

Arn contemplates his next statement. “Many people who were there claim they saw a vision that appeared out of the fire and then vanished.”

“What sort of vision?”

“They say it was the Devil. But... others swear they heard the apparition call itself Dracula.”

Arn now has Sypha’s full attention - and fear. Everyone says Vlad Dracula Țepeș is no more, that the horrors he inflicted upon Wallachia and others died with their tyrant a long time ago. Sypha knows better. Death is not always the end and vampires do exist.

“What do the oracles say?”

“One does not need a soothsayer or stories from the future to know what a terrible omen it is.” Always the voice of reason, even if it does sometimes come across as rudeness to Sypha.

However, there is truth in what Arn says yet the real Speaker oracles have said very little about Targoviste. Sypha has always respected their words, but this needless silence aggravates her. Should the Speakers heed the warnings and leave Wallachia for their own safety? Or should they continue on their path towards cities and towns that need their aid the most? Questions she wishes the oracles would answer in order to quell shared anxieties. Instead they give vague truths, claiming the future is shrouded in mist. They announce that all caravans should travel to the city of Griset but do not say why.

Her grandfather, always the gentle one, reminds her to be patient. Maybe, or rather hopefully, the oracles will reveal everything once the stories become clearer, but Sypha is still frustrated. At least Arn feels the same way.

“What are you doing here?” An unfamiliar, demanding voice asks the two Speakers. They don’t stop or acknowledge the question, knowing that it’s not worth their attention. Sypha has heard it more times from observing citizens than she cares to keep count of.

“I said what are you doing here?” The same voice repeats, turning the inquiry into a threat. Sypha turns around, ready to quiet them for good, until she sees a man pulling one of the Speaker children away from the group. It’s not clear whether he is a priest or witchfinder, but she’s not going to take any chances.

“It’s not safe! Where are your mother and father?”

“Let go!” The child resists but the man’s grip on their arm is like iron.

“Stop writhing!”

Sypha feels the first sparks of heat crawl towards her fingertips.

“No! Go away!”

“You little brat...”

“Leave them!” Sypha’s anger echoes off the stone walls. Arn takes a step back while the other children cower behind him.

“This is your fault, Speaker! Where are you taking these poor children? Hand them over this instant.” The man opens his mouth but Sypha’s tolerance has already run dry - not that she held any for him to begin with. Instead of words, surprised gasps that turn into chokes leave his lips.

“Do not make me repeat myself.” Sypha growls, switching languages as she lifts her pinky and index finger, emitting a small ball of light between the tips. Raising his hands to his neck, the stranger lets the child go. They run back to the group, unable to look away.

“Arn. Get the children to safety. Do not let them see this.” Arn tries to do just that with very little success. She doesn’t join him, even when the man stumbles to the ground, blood dripping from his gaped mouth.

“M... my throat... burning...” Sypha furrows her brows and concentrates on the spell.

“Sypha, no! He isn’t worth it.”

“He is worth every second of it.”

“Then let his blood be on someone else’s hands. Remember our teachings! Think of what others would say about us!”

She pauses. Killing the man would be easy for her; easy and quick. Then Arn had to raise the question of what would come after the deed is committed. They would be feared, yes, but also hated. Sypha could give herself up to protect her commune along with others; a useless, ineffective sacrifice. The Speakers will still be hunted down as murderers.

Arn and the children wait with bated breath for what Sypha will do next. She bites the inside of her cheek, hard enough to draw blood. The light fades as she turns to face Arn. “Get everyone to the caravan. Do not wait for me.”

“Sypha...”

“I will catch up to you soon. Now go! Quick!”

Arn fears what Sypha will do the moment his back is turned to her. However, what matters most now is the safety of the children. Guiding them out of the alley, he leaves Sypha behind, telling each one to not look back. Breath slowly returns to the stranger, but she’s not finished with him.

“Consider this a warning.” One you do not deserve. Before he can stand, Sypha clenches her hand into a fist. With a sickening CRACK, five of the man’s fingers are curled backwards, deformed by an unseen force. His horrified wails of pain give her some satisfaction. “Never come after us or try to take one of our own again, or next time I will not spare your life.’

‘Hunt for witches and you will get one.” The stranger gives no response. Sypha walks away with anger in every step she takes. There are other monsters in this world. She will save the worst of her spells for them.

MUNTENIA, GREATER WALLACHIA

It begins well past midnight when the corridors are silent. Neither the moon nor stars shine this fated night, which makes the cowardly perpetrators’ escape all too easy. They work quickly, breaking in and planting their fires in as many corners as possible, before disappearing into the shadows with the hope that their little gifts will grow and finish the job for them.

Trevor stirs in his bed, trying to sleep off another long evening spent with good food, good drink, and even better company. An evening that, while much needed by everyone, Trevor needed the most. Part of him is still angry at everything. The rumours, the ostracization, and the excommunication to top it all off. But if there’s anything the Belmonts are known for, it’s their persistence.

“Life will still go on for us.” That’s what Sonia Belmont told her son following the news of exile for their family. Trevor wants to believe it. The Belmonts will do their work and continue protecting the people of Wallachia. Church be damned.

Opening his drowsy eyes, Trevor awakes to the stench of smoke wafting into his room. He almost ignores it, thinking it’s just a torch that’s been left burning for too long, until the smell grows. Stronger and stronger, faster than he can prepare for. Trevor sits upright in a panic as a thickening grey cloud obscures the walls, fireplace, and bookshelves. Not bothering to put on anything more than the thin tunic and trousers he was sleeping in, he runs out into the hallway, shielding his face to the best of his ability. He hears glass shattering and his family heirlooms burning. The wooden beams holding the manor together are already in flames.

There’s only one thought on Trevor’s mind as he makes his way along the hall: save his family. Nevermind his safety, nevermind his own life. Get them out of the building before the fire guts through it entirely. “Mother! Father! Hold on! I’m coming, just hold on!” His voice is choked back by the smoke, drowned by the encroaching flames.

“Come on... come on, just a little furth-GAH!” A sudden, searing pain shoots through Trevor’s head. He falls to his knees with a hand covering his left eye. Scattered about are burnt remnants of wood and stone; they must have dropped from the ceiling. “Fuck...” Trevor hisses, feeling the warm blood crawl down his cheek then onto the floor. Despite his shaky legs and lungs full of smoke, he rises to his feet.

After what seems like a cruel eternity, Trevor arrives just a few feet away from his parents’ bedchamber but there is no reason to celebrate. He strains his watery eyes, trying to look past the chaos, and sees something that instills a new kind of fear within him. Lying in the doorway is his father. Trevor forgets about his fresh wound, even with it clouding his vision with red, and rushes to Gabriel’s side. His forehead is painted with blood, dripping over his closed eyes.

“Father!” Trevor shakes his shoulders. “Can you hear me? We need to leave right now! Father, you need to get up!” In the middle of everything, he notices the larger man’s chest. There’s no movement, not a single breath. “Please, just get up!” He cries out, doing whatever he can. It’s not good enough.

“Trevor?” Speaks another voice from inside the room. Trevor looks around and finds his mother trapped underneath more rubble, her body pinned against the floorboards. No matter how much she struggles, Sonia cannot free herself.

“Don’t move! I’m getting you out of there.” Trevor coughs out as he crawls towards her.

“Trevor... I can’t feel my legs...”

“Just hold on!” Gritting his teeth, he tries lifting the first plank of wood.

“You need to get out.”

“I will but not before you and father!” Nothing moves a single inch and it feels as though his fingernails are close to tearing right off. Trevor doesn’t care.

“It’s too late for me. Just go, get out while there’s still time for you.”

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you fucking dare give up!” Trevor barely feels the pain in his hands; nor does he notice the tears coming from his own eyes.

“Trevor for once in your life listen to me!” Sonia screams. It convinces her son to stop before he does irreversible damage to himself. Though Trevor does what he’s told with great reluctance. “You need to go... go and live. They can’t kill us all. You need to show them that.”

“No. Not without you.”

Using the last of her strength, Sonia reaches out and touches Trevor’s bloody cheek. “I love you more than anything in this world. And there’s so much more I wanted to teach you... but this is my final lesson to you. Now go.”

Trevor has exhausted not only all his options, but his voice as well. Yet he still protests. “I’m not leaving without you.”

“I found him! He’s in here!” A faint voice calls out as fire and crumbling rubble continue to surround the two Belmonts. At first, Trevor can’t hear them. His focus is entirely on Sonia, even when he feels multiple hands grab hold of his shoulders and arms. They pull him backwards, away from the only thing that matters to him.

“What the hell are you doing?! Let me go!” His strength has been drained past its limit, but Trevor gives them a fight. He thrashes about, trying to tear himself out of the rescuers’ grasp. “Help her! Just leave me and go save her, you bastards!” Only one can be saved, and they know this. Trevor might know as well, but he refuses to accept it. Especially when he’s being pulled farther and farther away, watching as Sonia’s weary face disappears behind a veil of smoke.

They drag him down each corridor, their window of opportunity growing smaller by every second. Objects Trevor knew his whole life, everything from books to tapestries hanging off the walls, crumble into blackened cinders. Evidence of a family’s legacy gone in an instant. When they finally make it outside, the cold air hitting Trevor’s face like a dozen knives, it’s with only a short moment to spare. With a final burst of fire, the manor’s entire roof collapses, engulfing the building in red and gold.

Trevor is angry at Sonia. Enraged. She was always the strongest, the best. She spat in the face of death. Why didn’t she try harder? Why didn’t she let him save her? His misguided anger is quickly drowned out by an oncoming sense of grief and guilt. It wasn’t Sonia’s fault, nor was it the fault of the rescuers. Whatever blame there is lies with whoever started the fire. But perhaps, Trevor thinks, some of it may lie with him.

It can’t be changed, it can’t be made any better. The last surviving Belmont is carefully lowered to his knees onto the wet grass. All he can do is watch. The blood covering his left eye is still wet.

#castlevania #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #alucard #adrian tepes #netflix castlevania #my writing #*cvfic #trying something a little different with formatting my fics #lol watch season 2 completely retcon everything in this

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queerspeculativefiction · 6 years ago

Text

Old stuff

Got talking with Alien, and remembered Cameron, so here are some old snippets from a book that’s never finished.

Probably some trigger warnings in there. A lot of them. Cameron is not nice. It is also old, like... 6 years old by now.

SNIPPET ONE - The whale problem

The park was nearly empty at this time of the day, the gravel paths a darker brown between the yellowed lawns. The sun was out, spring was here but the green had yet to follow, leaving a world of beiges and browns. The pond was empty of any ducks, the fountain dry and not yet running. It was desolate image, painted in subdued colours by the dust of nearby roads, but Cameron thought it almost peaceful. Sitting there, he could imagine that the world was dying the way he was, slowly aging into monochrome.

You never planned to be a part of the beige army, but one morning you woke up and found yourself there. Everybody put their pants on one leg at a time they said, but even those days were behind him. Now, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently eased his swollen feet into them. Then he rose and pulled, and with a bit of luck he just about managed. Maybe he should have help, but when you lived the life he had, you didn't take time off for raising a family. He probably had children somewhere, but had never stuck around to make sure. Prison tended to make a mess of any relationship, and after a while you just stopped trying.

Unlike some.

The woman had passed him twice now, a sharp young thing, all angles and shadows. She was leading a dog, a confused looking poodle that kept pulling at the leash.

"Either shit or get off the pot, girl." He spoke up because she disturbed him, made him remember, brought him back into a past he tried to forget

"You got a foul mouth for a wrinkled old prune," she replied, but her shoulders did the hunch of the guilty. He had not been wrong about her.

"I didn't know they let pakis in the force," he retorted, giving her a grim smile. At least he still had his own teeth, yellowed though they were.

"The name's Noor, not paki, they should have warned me you were an arse as well as uncooperative." She was standing with her arms folded now, the dog pulling on its leash with a whine.

"I'm only an arse to coppers," he said, looking up at her breasts. Smaller than he liked them, but still, beggars couldn't be choosers. "I'm kind to kids and animals. Unlike you."

"Oh, the dog?" She looked down at the struggling dog. "It's not mine; I borrowed it from a woman in the park to have an excuse to scout the place. They told me you'd bolt if you figured we were around."

"Look at me," he said, and both the dog and the girl did. He held up a finger and the dog sat down obediently, ears attentive. "You think I could run very fast?"

"You know what I mean." She looked increasingly uncomfortable but finally managed to look away.

"Say that I do. Say that you got me talking. It's still only for the pleasure of turning you down."

"Let him who has understanding reckon the number of the Beast, for it is a human number." Her voice had gone hard, insistent. "He's back. The Beast."

That made him fall silent. The dog started barking again, sensing the building tension.

"Last month there were three murders down by the banks," she started, voice hushed. "Like he used to do them. We hushed it up, nobody cares about dead Devkies. But the whispers started. He's moved in again, cleaned out the riverside, set up his own people there."

"He doesn't have any people anymore; he's been gone too long."

"Really? He got new ones then. Don't tell me that you haven't seen the signs. The rain of pigeons? The crows circling the city hall?"

"Don't tell me you've got the Sight, girl."

"Maybe I do. Runs in the family. And I know the law didn't stop him last time. You did."

"I had turf to protect then. An organization. I didn't need any jumped-up hellspawn trying to muscle in on my operation. These days I'm happy if I can have a decent piss."

"People will die."

"People always die."

"Not if I can help it."

"Girl... don't be an idiot. You'd be chewed up and spat out if you went up against him. You're hardly out of diapers; you even gave me your bloody name."

"Did I?" She looked straight at him, mouth curved in familiar displeasure.

"You... ah, clever girl. I suppose the vagueness of the wording would suffice. I was always fond of 'Call me Cameron' myself."

"I could never say that without thinking of Moby Dick."

"And yet you want me to go and hunt your white whale?"

"It's not really mine, is it? It's yours."

And the damn thing was that she was right.

...

The city felt so quiet, but the undercurrent of terror was already there. The murders plastered over the newspapers. The shadows you spotted on the way home after a late night out. The increase in looted stores and arson. Cameron had seen it all before, forty years ago when he was younger and the world was a different animal. He'd been in and out of prison since he could remember, and every time he got out, the world had made another turn. Things didn't change when you were away; you were locked inside the grey, preserved like a specimen in a jar until you were dumped out into a world that no longer needed you.

It had been bad enough during shorter stints, but when you were in for five, ten years you became a stranger in your own skin. Oh he'd learned things in there, in many ways more than he ever had in school. But it changed you all the same, and there came a time when he had seen enough and decided to retire to a life of feeding pigeons and watching young women jog past. A harmless old kook they called him, because age wiped away everything. Even a bad reputation. Once he had been a force to be reckoned with, now he was just a weak old man.

Still, there were worse things he could be. Like dead.

Was seriously considering this? Had the girl put the whammy on him? He thought not, she had the sight but he wasn't one to be talked into anything. Maybe it was just unfinished business. Maybe he was just picking a better spot to die than a bench in the park surrounded by a corona of pigeons. Of course there were worse ways too, and the Beast knew all about those. What was the old saying? 'And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.' He'd be lucky.

But he had always made his own luck.

...

"No, you can't get in old man. Just move along." The man was young and skinny and with a hungry look in his eyes, like all the Beast's thralls.

"Oh bugger off," Cameron said with enough force to make the man take a step back. "I want a chat with your boss."

"Let him in, Alfie." The drape had been pushed to the side, and an old woman popped her head out. Still striking despite her age, with pale skin pulled tightly against her skull. "He's expected."

Alfie stepped aside, still looking staggered, as if he'd got something stuck in his teeth that wouldn't budge. Cameron shuffled inside, trying not to lean on his cane too much. Honestly, he'd rather have his walker, but he guessed that would give a bad impression. The thought nearly made him laugh.

As if the Beast would care.

"So I am expected," he said, words sounding the waters as they shuffled down the corridors of the crack house. There were no doors here, the Beast did not approve of them. They held power, an older power than even he controlled. So as they walked, Cameron would get glimpses of what was going on through tattered drapes and curtains, things that might have blocked sights but never sound. If his skin wasn't so wrinkled it'd crawl.

"If you've ruined Alfie, I will be most cross," the woman said. "He's a hopeless druggie, but he's got a talented tongue."

"Ruined?" For a moment Cameron had no idea what she was talking about, and then he laughed. "Oh, the 'bugger off' bit? Not sure if it actually works that way. That'd be a laugh, wouldn't it?" If it had, he regretted not using it more. He could remember a few coppers who would have been well served by a long, hard fuck.

"No laughter here, Mr Cameron. I thought you'd remember the rules." She walked them upstairs, which was a slow process since his aging knees protested every step.

He did remember the rules. No laughter, another thing that held power. He'd watched the Beast do unspeakable things to a man's tongue for that particular transgression. Towards the end it had looked like a mouthful of worms writing in a bloodied nest, and he had to swallow hard to keep the memories down.

"I never was much for rules," he said with a shrug, more to keep his courage up than anything. "Who are you anyway? I feel like I should know your scrawny arse."

"You mean you don't recognize me? Shame on you Mr Cameron, you'd think you'd remember someone who's had your dick in her mouth."

"Nooo, little Sally Fielding?" He could see it now, when he looked. The teenage girl, all limbs and eyes and dark, dark passions. "I never thought he'd get to you of all people."

The shrug was nearly imperceptible. "He gets to everybody in the end. You should know that Mr Cameron."

They walked the rest of the stairs in uncomfortable silence.

...

The room was swathed in shadows, hundreds of candles making the heat almost unbearable. At least it would have been unbearable back when he was a younger man, but with age came the chills, and the need for electric blankets and warm sweaters. This, Cameron thought to himself not without irony, was probably the closest thing to warm he'd been in years.

"It's been a while," he said, because starting the conversation gave him the illusion of control. "Thought you'd decided to have a vacation in warmer climates."

"What can I say," the Beast said in his raspy voice, torn from the throat of his recent host. "Even wars get boring. I've missed the smaller, dirtier vices."

"And here I thought you missed me," Cameron said, fighting not to turn away from those piss-yellow stains that masqueraded as eyes.

"Maybe I did," the Beast admitted with an amused hum. "It is always a pleasure to see the mighty fall so far."

"As I recall, you took a bit of a tumble last time yourself." Where did he get the guts? No, he shouldn't be asking himself that. He had always been ready to piss in God's eye if it got him what he wanted. This was no different.

"I did," the Beast admitted, licking his lips. "Another thing I owe you."

Up until that point Cameron had hoped that maybe Noor would have been mistaken. There were any number of creatures that could have masqueraded as the Beast after all. Any number of terrors that went bump in the night. He had come here to make sure that she was wrong, that there was no need for new nightmares. But here, faced with the Beast, he had to admit the truth to himself. This was the real deal, or at least the same deal as the one he'd banished all those decades ago. This was the Beast, and he was back, and worse... he was smiling.

"Now, no need to talk old memories," Cameron said, hoping his voice sounded steady. "I'm just here to tell you that there's no need to unpack your bags. You won't be staying."

"Oh won't I? No attempt to even put some power into your suggestions, old man? Have you lost the knack for it?" The Beast had risen and was looming now, leaning close.

"Wouldn't do much good now, would it? Besides, I'm just the messenger this time." Just a worthless old man. Cameron willed himself to believe it.

"I see... then perhaps I should make sure to send a message back." The nails on the hand caressing his chin were as sharp as claws.

"Trust me; you really don't want to see me naked these days." He vividly remembered the message tossed on his own doorstep all those decades ago, the mutilated body naked and covered with marks of unspeakable torture.

"As if we cared about your looks," the Beast said, breath rancid. "You're all disgusting sacks of meat; it's the soul that matters. And I have been waiting for yours a long time."

"Mom lived past a hundred; you might have to wait longer yet." Cameron's knuckles were white over the hilt of the cane.

"I am patience."

"And I need to take a slash. The perils of old age you know. Bladder problems." He didn't look down, willed himself to keep looking into the inhuman eyes. "So if you're gonna torture, get on with it."

"I suppose there is no skill inherent in making an old man piss himself," the Beast admitted. "Begone and tell the people that sent you here that this town is mine now."

"I'll make sure to tell them that," Cameron assured, backing out of the room until the drapes fell shut and he could turn without having those yellow eyes eating away at his back.

Well, that could have gone better. And worse.

Once he had limped down the stairs, past the hollow eyes and swollen veins, past the used needles and wasted flesh, he pulled up his phone and called the number Noor had given him.

"You're right," he said curtly, foregoing even insults in the face of what we had just seen. "We've got ourselves a whale problem."

-------

SNIPPET TWO - A History Lesson

Noor pushed back the phone in her pocket with an unmuttered curse. Her contact at the hotel has just told her Cameron had arrived, but about an hour later than needed. What the old man had been up to in the meantime was anybody's guess. Unfortunately, there was no allowance for guesswork in this, but neither was she in any position to call up the old man and yell at him. Not that he would listen.

"Bad news?" Sergeant Williams looked up from his screen, the blue light flickering over his weathered face.

"Just annoyingly expected ones." She resumed rifling through the archives, then caught herself and looked over at him again with a softer smile on her lips. "Thank you for letting me have a look through the dustbin, it's appreciated."

The dustbin was what people affectionately called the deep archives of the Met, the place where things that didn't quite fit ended up. Over the past century it had collected what others would call 'curiosities', cases and items that never showed up in the official files. Who had first started it was a matter for debate, but it was being quietly curated by the Sighted few, the ones that knew that there was more to the world than the police operational handbook told you.

"Just be quick about it, I could get in a lot of trouble if someone found you here. The super's not the forgiving type. As you might remember."

"I do." She realized how defeatalist her voice sounded and quickly added. "I still don't regret what I did. No matter the consequences."

"A lot of us agree with what you did, you know."

"I know." The words were without sarcasm, and she added a smile to drive the point home. "But thank you again all the same."

"Don't thank me, just finish up in a hurry."

"I would be finished if you'd got these files organized by now."

"Yeah, yeah. You and me both know that's not going to happen. What year are you looking for again?"

"1981. That's when it started."

...

1981

The riots had torn through the city all through the summer, fuelled by anger and desperation. The air had turned electric with frustration, the streets humming with anger, spending itself against storefronts and riot shields. Anybody with a uniform was a target, and Brixton had been a name that brought fresh fears and horrors to the headlines. But the riots had been beaten down and a sullen august arrived, unreasonably hot, with the moon hanging low and pregnant in the skies.

And then the river had caught fire.

Cameron was standing by the banks, feeling heat curl his thinning hair. It wasn't fair that a man in his thirties should be growing bald already, but this was one war he couldn't win so he had just shaved most of it off to hide the casualties.

"This is insane," he muttered, watching the flames leap and the heat dance mirages in the air above. "Where is the damn fire department?"

"The fire doesn't burn for everybody, Boss." Eelis lit up a cigarette, tossing the spent match in the flames to let it be consumed. "It's just like the maniac on the platform, ennit? Now you see it, now you don't, and before you know it they have slipped away and hidden in the urban legends. This can't be seen without Sight."

"Bullshit, I know what the Sight does, but I can feel this." Cameron reached out and pulled back his hand with a snarl, blisters forming on his hand where the flames had leaped up to bite. "And it sure as hell ain't no stinking urban legend, those pissants work in the shadows, reaching out to maybe two or three people at the most. This is a bloody river through the centre of the city! This is bold."

"Not just bold, Boss, it's for you I reckon. He's pulling you close. 'Only for the ones the Beast has marked, will the flames have bite as well as bark.' Remember that? Turns out the old nutter was right on the money." Eelis reached out, running his hand through the flames, it turned opaque, surrounded by the flame mirage, but did not burn.

"That's not the Beast out there," Cameron snapped, sucking on a blister.

"If you say so, Boss." Eelis shrugged. It was never wise to argue with a man that had climbed to where he was today over the gravestones of his predecessors. Organized crime was a dog eat dog world, and right now Cameron was working his way towards being the biggest, meanest dog of them all.

"It's just a bigger, nastier version of the Bloody Mary, and we dealt with her when we were bloody teens."

"Like you said, Boss. Bigger. Nastier."

"Still something that can be dealt with. Just got to find its weakness." Cameron rubbed his scruffy chin, mesmerized by the dance of the flames. Did he really smell the cooked meat and the sulphur? Did he imagine the pained moans and crackling fat?

"Not sure if it has any," Eelis said after considering it for a moment. "Well, except God. Could always try a priest."

"I don't believe in God," Cameron said firmly, turning his back on the flames at last.

"That's probably a good thing, Boss, since you've been pissing in his eye for years."

"Oh go fuck yourself and get Swan to come back in. We've got work to do. I'll be at the flat, call me when he gets here and not a moment sooner." Cameron yanked open the door to his car hard enough that Eelis flinched a little.

"Swan? What if he starts up some more trouble?" he asked cautiously.

"Grow a fucking spine and deal with it."

...

"Do you remember someone called Swan?" Noor put down the file she had been reading, checking with her notes. "Most likely a known associate of Joachim Cameron or Eelis Jones?"

"Swan, Swan... Roger Swan? Could that be the man?" Williams rose to join her, his stocky frame crowding her away from the cabinet. "Have you checked the Cameron file?"

"There is a Cameron file?" Noor gave the older man a stern look. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because you never mentioned that you wanted it." The shrug was amused, the moustache wiggling. "You've been going on about 1981 and the riots there, next time be a bit clearer my dear."

"I went through the computers about him, not much came up. I didn't know he was down here in the dustbins as well."

"Got one of the fatter files down here, at least of the recent ones. Old Nichols had a hard-on for Cameron for years, he collected every scrap no matter how out there. The sarge even threw a party once they'd finally nailed him. Fifteen years in Belmarsh.The old bastard will be a pensioner when he finally gets out."

"He is out. For a few years now. Retired from the looks." Noor took the file once that Williams had located it, the thick bundle somehow weightier than it should be. What was it about the old man that had given tbe Beast pause? Was it even him, or just his associates? She needed to know. "Swan, Swan," she mumbled as she leafed through the pages, then paused and reread. "Huh. Did you know Cameron had a girlfriend? I didn't think he was the type to settle down."

"Don't think he ever did." Williams smiled a little. "Men like him never cared where they stuck their dick, pardon ma'm, even if they happened to be in love."

"Love." Noor shrugged as she pulled out the picture of the young woman in question. "I very much doubt that ever ventured into it. That man doesn't have a soft bone in his body." If he had, he would have been less than useful to her cause.

...

1981

Dawn came early to the flat, situated at the top floor as it was. The previous owner had tossed himself out the window after seeing apparitions in the living room, and Cameron had always thought it gave the place a nice, quaint atmosphere. The woman next to him might have kept him awake all night, but she was blissfully Sightless and thus never noticed the shadows still haunting dark corners, waiting for easier prey.

"Strange," she said, running her fingers over his furrowed brow. "Usually you've stopped scowling by now." The sheets were tangled at the foot of the bed, the room too warm in the sweltering heat.

"Got a lot on my mind, babe," Cameron let his fingers trace the curve of her brown hip, the rounded little pot of a stomach. Everything was so soft and sweet about her, no sharp edges, no nasty hidden truths. She was a rarity for him, a woman that wanted nothing more than what he would give her, asked for nothing more than for him to just be himself. Not the big man. Not the tough guy. No masks.

"Don't call me babe," she chided, leaning in to kiss his nose, broken and healed too many times already. "My name is Maria."

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he flinched, pulling her on top of him so she lay draped there like a comforter, peering down at him with that amused little smile under the unruly afro.

"Do what?" she asked, shifting slightly to make herself comfortable, the smile widening as his hands kept trailing down her shoulders and spine.

"Give your name that freely. You shouldn't. It could be dangerous." But she walked in none of the hidden worlds; Maria was just Maria, a local girl, a convenience store clerk from down the block. She knew nothing of drugs or murder, of midnight beatings or the things that lurked behind mirrors or in alleys.

"You're such a worrywart," she said with the softest of laughs, running her fingers over his short hair. "No wonder you're growing bald."

"You told me that was testosterone." Cameron couldn't help but answer the smile though; she was the only one that he allowed to tease him like that. Like he was just a normal bloke, the dealer of luxury cars that he pretended to be. And maybe that was her particular magic, that right here, pressed down into the bed under her soft, curvy body, he felt at peace. Content. Like the rest of the world could go fuck itself, like whatever burning need for more he had always nursed in the pit of his stomach had grown content, at last.

"Well, maybe I lied," she teased, rubbing the tip of her nose against his.

"I'd like to see you try." Cameron wasn't even kidding there, he had seen her try to lie before, about the little things, and it had always ended in mumbled excuses. He couldn't call her innocent, not with the things they were up to in bed, but there was a sweetness to her that utterly disarmed him.

Was he in love? He'd considered it before, and every time he said goodbye to her he talked himself into believing otherwise, but there was no denying the effect she was having on his greedy heart. Like always, when he lay here happy, sated, he promised himself that maybe he should quit the others. Stay faithful. Be a good man.

It never lasted. He was not a good man, very, very far from one in fact. She just made it possible for him to pretend differently, just for a little.

"Don't tell people your name anymore," he said to her, putting every ounce of conviction, of talent, into that whispered order.

"Don't start being weird again," she chided, sliding off to the side so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "Dawn's here, we should get some sleep. Lucky for you I'm on an afternoon shift today."

"Yeah, lucky me" Cameron sighed, wrapping an arm around her. Nothing. He could talk a nun out of her knickers, and all his suggestions slid off her like mere words. She wasn't just Sightless, she lacked even the rudimentary senses that made people heed his words and look over their shoulder when something wicked came their way. She was for all intents and purposes immune to the world he half lived in.

Maybe that was why he treasured her so. That he could know she was with him because she wanted to be, he could not coerce her, could not talk her into things she might never have done otherwise. She was here by choice, with him. And there was nothing more powerful than that.

...

"Got him." Noor grinned and pulled out a picture of the man named Swan, a skinny, bespectabled blonde with a menacing look to him. She had been certain he had heard him refered to before, and if she was planning to have a hope in hell of succeeding with the task she had set herself, she would need every ace in the hole. From the look, he'd be the same age as Cameron now, was he retired as well?

She leaned back and chewed a pencil, then checked and rechecked her notes. Swan had been a shadow to Cameron's light, the power behind the throne whispered some. Nood didn't believe that, after having met the man she couldn't imagine Cameron playing second fiddle to anybody. No, Swan must have been useful to him, in other ways than mere muscle. Someone that walked the hidden paths? Someone with more magical clout than the former mob boss? Possibly, there had been rumours of a falling out and she had failed to locate the man when she had tried. And that was what she did after all. Finding things. Finding a way. And right now she was assembling the pieces of the puzzle that had been the Beast's bane once before.

Not that her task didn't make her crack a smile, she hadn't really imagined people powerful enough to worry the Beast being that... well, old. The charge of the pensioners didn't really have much of a ring to it, and most of the people she was tracking down came up dead. Cameron however was still very much alive and as nasty as ever. But back in the day he had help, and those were the clues she was hunting for in these old case-files, notes scribbled down by scruplously honest (and Sighted) officers who knew nothing they put down would ever be believed. Maybe they hoped for someone like her to come around one day, someone that knew enough to connect the dots. To read their story and make sense of it.

They themselves were long since dead. Another reccuring theme in her research. It made her wonder about the wisdom of her retirement fund.

...

1981

Cameron was in a cab, stuck in traffic, when the pigeons started to fall from the skies. At first there was one, a feathered body thumping softy on the hood. Then came the next, a soft impact on the roof, and then the rain started. Broken bodies, broken wings, feathers fluttering, small bodies ground to paste between the slowly moving wheels. The cab drove a few yards, and then stopped again while the thumping continued. People on the sidewalk had stopped and stared, dodging into stores to keep out of the birdfall. Setting his face in a deeper scowl, Cameron stuck a few bills to the driver, and then stepped out in the middle of the road, causing cars to stop and swerve.

"You think this scares me?" he bellowed to the skies, ignoring the looks he got. "Well, fuck you too assholes."

It took him fifteen minutes to make his way to the pub on foot, sweaty and cursing every inch of the way. Swan and Eelis was already there when he arrived, nursing their beers.

"Looks like someone didn't get fried sunny side up today," Swan said lightly, the alchemist looking insufferably smug. They hadn't seen each other since Cameron banished him from the boroughs, and to be called back now had apparently left him in the most pleasant of moods.

"Watch it or I'll make sure it's your balls that gets fried," Eelis said, elbowing the man in the side.

Cameron said nothing, just sank down in the chair, locking eyes with the alchemist. Swan was a clever little prick and he had great use of him in the past, but he was too clever for his own good and had dipped too deeply into funds he shouldn't have access to. The mere fact that he was still alive was testament to his talent, because while Cameron might be a vindictive bastard he was not stupid. And people like this little shit were too rare to kill unless you had no other choice.

"You can say it, you know," Swan said, easily keeping Cameron's gaze while most men would have looked down already. "In fact, I think you have to say it."

There was a moment there when the silence grew thick enough to cut, and then Cameron took a deep breath and shrugged.

"You were right."

"That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"Don't rub it in. I broke your fingers last time, I could just as easily cut them off, and then where would you be?"

"Now, now, you never had a sense of humour, Mr Cameron. No need for violence."

"I'm not here for that. I'm here for answers."

"I gathered, word's been spreading, Hell is seeping into the city and that little exile you sent me on suddenly seems like a smart idea."

"There is no Hell."

"People might disagree, some might say life is hell, but this city has been hell for enough people that it tends to stick around. Like lice and cockroaches it lurks in the dark corners just waiting for the spark."

"The Beast."

"That's what he calls himself now, and who am I to argue?"

"A bloody superstitious cunt. He's nothing more than another Ripper or a Spring Heeled Jack. Find the right angle and he's just smoke in the wind."

"And mess this up and we might have another Masque of the Red Death, or the Mistress of Smog."

"Or another Great Fire of London," Cameron admitted grudgingly. "Like back in 1666, the blighter's been alluding to it. The burning river, the number of the Beast. I'm not stupid, Swan, tell me what I don't know."

"Anything is bound by rules, even him. If he plays at being the Beast, might consider finding faith." Swan shrugged and chugged the beer.

"Not gonna happen. And if I start playing by his rules, then he's already won." Cameron heard the words spilling from his mouth while his mind was reeling from what he had just realized he was planning to do.

"Why do I have the feeling you didn't call me back here for my sage advice? You already have a plan, don't you?" Swan's bleary eyes had grown sharp behind his glasses, the jovial mask slipping.

"I do," Cameron admitted while his guts slowly churned. "This is my bloody town, or will be very soon, and I have no plans to let some hellspawn get the better of me. My town, my rules, and he's going down."

"You planning on being a bigger bastard than he is?" Swan asked, bemused. "Good luck with that."

"Eelis," Cameron said, causing his subordinate to straighten a little in the chair. "Go get Maria, take her to the flat and keep her there. Tell her that it's important. That it will be a surprise."

"Done, Boss." Eelis rose, hesitated for a moment, but then left quickly, objections unvoiced.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Swan asked, emptying the beer that Eelis had left behind.

"Not particularly. Just useful." Cameron's words were clipped now, down to the bare minimum to get the point across. "I need you to forge an Echo for me. In the form of a blade. A small one, I need to be able to hide it."

"I... can do that," Swan admitted. "If you have the tools, but I figure you wouldn't call me back unless you were ready."

"You're right. I wouldn't."

"Of course it'll be next to useless against the Beast, you know. One, he's not stupid enough to confront you openly. Two, no matter what you quench it in, it's unlikely it's gonna do more than smart. Unless you've got the most pious saint in Britain stacked away somewhere."

"I haven't. Got something better. Don't worry about it; just do your fucking job."

"If I do..."

"Then you're allowed back. Just don't piss on my property without me saying yes first."

"I'll be a good boy, I've missed the City."

"Now get to work."

...

"This doesn't add up." Noor sighed and stretched a little. Swan was an alchemist and a tool maker. He didn't do banishments, there weren't any indications of faith or that he'd ever been a priest. Demons, or djinns, or whatever you would call them followed rules and strictures as harsh as the laws of men. Swan had no authority there, and neither did Cameron. And yet the Beast had been banished. Was she wrong about her approach? What was she missing? Her brain felt sluggish in the dusty room, the lack of air and fans lent the stillness a tomb-like quality. She needed a break and turned to Williams for advice. "What are the chances that someone will spot me if I do a detour to the coffee maker?" The coffee here was legendary bad, the kind that turned your gut to acid. The best kind in her opinion.

"You're a wee bit recognizable in that getup," Williams replied with the faintest of smiles.

"Are you making fun of my religion?" Her smile echoed his, you had to learn to grow a thick skin when you choose to wear the hijab as part of your uniform.

"No, just your dress sense." Williams kept a straight face.

"Says the man with that moustache. But I suppose you're right. Wouldn't want to get you into trouble."

"Me? How about yourself?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"That I don't doubt. Just the wisdom of it. Just sit tight and I'll bring you back a cuppa, how does that sound?"

"Heavely. I've got what... twenty pages of handwritten interrogation transcript notes to go through here, and I'm not sure where the original tape is."

"If it's not down here, probably lost for good. You and me both know that the dustbin is the last stop for most of the oddities. Someone propably managed to save the notes when the tape was destroyed."

"But this is from a murder investigation, they can't just disappear those, can they?"

"They can, and you know it. If it wasn't used against Cameron in his trial, it's probably..." Williams hesitated a little.

"Someone buried it." Noor was surprised at how hard her voice sounded, she knew that Cameron had murdered people, and yet to have that laid out in front of her stung like a slap. Could good be done with evil tools? Was she doing the right thing?

The truth was that she didn't know.She just knew that she was running out of choices fast. The Beast was not a patient creature. And if she'd be damned in the process, at least that was her own choice. She knew what she was getting into.

So she kept on reading.

...

1981

On the rooftop, the wind stole both words and breath, but nobody was in a mood to talk. The rain had started falling, hiding the tears running down Maria's cheeks, to be absorbed by her gag. Cameron didn't meet her gaze, just kept running his hand over the Echo that Swan had forged, twisted silver lined by runes, a black hole waiting to be filled with Meaning. The alchemist was busying himself with the runes, thick swathes of black tar making bold patterns on the concrete rooftop, untouched by the growing downpour.

"You sure it's gonna hold him?" Eelis asked, one arm around Maria, restraining her, though she was securely tied.

"For a few seconds maybe," Swan said with a shrug. "If we're lucky and he shows up at all."

"Oh he's gonna come," Cameron said, willing himself as hard as the concrete under his feet. "I'm gonna cut out my own heart, there ain't no way he can resist showing up to fucking piss on it. He's nothing but a big, fat buzzard, out to feast on the suffering of man."

"It's done then," the alchemist said and stepped back. "I've done what I can. The rest is up to you."

"Good," Cameron said, pooling all his frustration and grief into the words. "Then step over the ledge and take the quick way down."

"You bastard," Swan said, face whitening as he slowly started walking towards the ledge despite himself. "I cu..."

"Silence!" Cameron shouted, and the alchemist's mouth snapped shut, his eyes growing wide. "Didn't know I could do that, could you? I've not been complacent while you were away. No way am I letting you run roughshod over my city, not after witnessing this."

There was no triumph in his voice though, just tired grief and power. Swan had been a tool, but someone needed to pay for this, and part of him felt slightly content when they saw the wispy man step over the ledge and fall to his messy death in silence.

"I hope you're not gonna do that to me, Boss." To his credit, Eelis's voice didn't waver.

"You would jump off the ledge from sheer loyalty to me, wouldn't you?"

Eelis's nod was small, almost imperceptible. "I'd rather not, though."

"Don't worry, such loyalty is a precious and rare thing. Should be preserved. Now bring the girl to me."

Anne. Her name was Maria. Not the girl. Not babe. He could see her eyes telling him that. No anger, not yet. Confusion. A bit of fear.

"I'm sorry, babe," he said, running a hand over her cheek. "You should never have told me your name. And you should never have fallen in love with me."

She was struggling now, but her arms were tied, and her legs had just enough stretch in the ropes so she could tiptoe. Did you never love me, her eyes kept asking as he pulled her close? Was it all pretence?

"I did really love you, Maria," Cameron whispered, not bothering to hide the tears now. "This would never work otherwise."

The blade made no sound when it slit her throat open, blood gushing over them both, eyes widening, then growing dim. He held her gently in his arms as she died, felt the blade drink her essence, the Echo of her spirit caught, his own pain amplified by the surrounding runes. He wanted to kill himself. For the first time in his life he truly contemplated doing what the shadows in the apartment below had urged him to and jump of the edge. Face the fall. End this. Wash away the eyes, worse than accusing... confused. Hurt.

He never wanted to hurt her, the one good thing in his life that wasn't tied to misery and death. And now he had killed her. It was only when he heard the laughter that he opened his eyes, looking into the triumphant gaze of the Beast.

Yellow. Like pissholes in the snow. Mocking. Inviting. Burn or bend, serve or be consumed, this was an appetite that dwarfed his own. Or so he had thought. Had feared. But he had been wrong. The beast had been wrong.

The blade slid into the beast's gut as easy as it had slit Maria's throat. He twisted and yanked upwards, seeing eyes widen and grow green, then blue.

"What... are you doing?" the Beast gasped.

"Ending you," Cameron replied. Maria's body had sagged to the ground between them, he was embracing the Beast now, as it was shrinking from threatening creature to the shrivelled Devkie it had invaded in the first place.

"You... can't..." flies dying by the hundreds filling windowsills through the distant city.

"I can because I will it." Cameron yanked the dagger again, felt the edge scraping ribs. "First rule, do what thou wilt. Second rule, any great act of power demands an equal sacrifice."

"But I..." the crows that had been circling the rooftops had taken flight, rain and feathers the same faded grey.

"Am the Beast? She never believed in that bullshit. Or in magic. To her you're just a Devkie cunt. And I am ending you." The blade was as immune to the power as Maria had been, immune to healing, to destruction. The natural laws were for once immutable, and there was nothing special about the man that he was killing. Nothing special at all. The eyes grew wide, stared blindly, and then the man that had been the best sank down to his knees, then fell over. Dying. Dead.

All was silent now as the rain poured down, mixing with the blood. The oppressive august heat had broken at last, the city sated, the madness spent.

"Want... want me to get rid off the bodies, Boss?" Eelis spoke nervously, and got the briefest nod in return.

"Yeah... do that." Cameron ran a hand over his face, then looked at it to see whether it was steady. It was. "Do that and then contact the boys. The Beast's territories should we wide open. We're moving in immediately."

It was done. Both the terror of the Beast and this illusion of a different fate for him. Now only the hunger remained. The hunger and the City.

...

"Shit." Noor let the word slip out as she looked at the notes spread out in front of her, the grainy pictures of what had once been a man that fell from a building, and a woman found burned beyond recognition a week later. A suicide and a murder with an unknown assailant.It had been tagged as a possible British Boys deed, a black supermarket cashier ending up with her throat slit and no enemies.

"Was that a curse?" Williams put down the cup in front of her, and she drank it down despite the burn. As if the pain had somehow been her salvation.

"I'm wondering if I'm heading down the wrong track or not," she admitted with a pained smile. "These notes... Eelis Jones was it that testified? Why wasn't this brought to trial?"

"I guess people had their reasons to bury it. As had this Jones for telling what he did. Maybe he thought his boss had gone to far."

"You can't go too far in that business, Jones would know that. Maybe this was bragging." She couldn't be sure, but part of her wondered if Cameron wasn't the kind of man who wanted his story told. Wanted recognition of his victory. She had used men that before, but it was a risky prospect.

Nevertheless she had to do something. And now she knew what.

#snippets #old stuff #from thief of nightmares

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jadekitty777 · 6 years ago

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‘Til the Clock Runs Out

So apparently when I feel ill I decide it’s time to make my favorite boys sick too. Didn’t actually expect to finish this one, but here we are!

Summary: While taking care of a sick Taiyang, Qrow recalls the time when their situations were reversed and realizes that they’ll always be there for each other.

Rating: K

Word count: 2.3k

Pairing: Taiqrow

A03 Link: ‘Til the Clock Runs Out

Coughing awoke Qrow immediately.

It took a moment or two to adjust to the bedroom’s only light coming from the moon spilling through between the curtains, splashing silver slats along the wood floors and across the end of the bed. Definitely too early to be up. The sentiment was shared by his partner, who gave a weak groan and another violent round of coughing.

Qrow stretched out his legs and turned over, looking up at the lump of blanket beside him. He reached out, tugging down the edge until he could see Tai’s face. He brushed the back of his hand along his forehead. “You’re really hot.”

One corner of Tai’s lips quirked up into a smile and he croaked out, “You know it, beautiful.”

“Save it, Casanova.” He replied, amused, though it quickly shifted into concern when the other buried his face into his pillow, whole body jerking with his coughs. “Alright, I think some medicine’s in order.”

The pathetic moan was the only answer he got.

Qrow slid out of bed, slipping through the door always left open in case one of the girls had a nightmare. The hallway was drafty and he kind of regret not grabbing a shirt or some slippers as he padded barefoot along the ice-cold floor. Out of habit, he paused once he reached the first bedroom, peering inside. Yang was a sprawled mess, golden curls and limbs everywhere, her blanket having been kicked completely off the bed. Ruby was sleeping more soundly, curled up on her side. Their newest addition, Zwei, was cuddled in her grasp, little snout resting on the pillow.

Though he knew he was playing fate, he tiptoed into the room as carefully as he could, having to step around wooden blocks, action figures, a ball and two chew toys, before he finally got to Yang’s bedside. He picked up the knitted quilt, unable to help admiring the mismatched patterns as he tucked it around his niece. The whole team had made the quilt together before Yang had been born. Each fourth of a section was obvious whose side it was, right down to Tai’s dragons and Raven’s flowers, to Summer’s dogs and his birds. It was honestly the ugliest thing they’d ever made and they’d never been so proud.

Ruby had one as well, though made with only three hands instead of four. They filled in the fourth side by letting Yang pick what it should be – and being two at the time, she was innocently unaware that perhaps dinosaurs and fire patterns didn’t send the best message. He looked back at the little squirt still resting soundly with her puppy, wondering idly if maybe they should make one for Zwei next. A tiny puppy quilt knit by the four of them.

Qrow shook off the inane idea, wondering if he was somehow channeling Tai spiritually now. Maybe they’d finally just spent so much time together their personal auras had intertwined.

Who knew, maybe tomorrow he’d be gardening and shopping for zip-off cargo pants.

He shuddered at the thought, ducking back out of the room, miraculously not tripping over anything or rousing anyone. Distantly, Qrow could still hear Tai giving his most valiant effort to bring up a lung, so he quickly got back on track as he hurried down to the first floor. As soon as he flipped the switch, he had to blink away spots as the kitchen lights assaulted him, hip-checking the table in his partial blindness.

“Stupid.” He grumbled at it, rubbing at the mostly non-existent ache as he crossed over to the pantry, shuffling through the top shelf where they kept the medicine hidden away. He shook out the painkillers and filled the cap of cough syrup, before pouring a glass of water, letting the tap run hot first.

The motions were much too familiar because he’d done it all at least a hundred times before. He and Raven had gotten sick often after they’d relocated to Beacon; especially during their first year. Their immune systems were so unaccustomed to Vale’s vastly different ecosystem that any virus just wandering on by saw they were prime real estate and moved right on in. It made for a very miserable experience.

During those days, Summer and Tai mostly let them be, only getting things when explicitly asked. It hadn’t been because they didn’t want to help, because they did, especially Summer who would dote on them in suffocating amounts if allowed to. But he and Raven refused all attempts at their teammates playing ‘nurse maid’, leaving them to find subtle ways of helping them. Granted, Summer’s best attempt at subtly was acting like a medicine fairy by leaving cough drops on their nightstands. Tai tended to be a little more discreet, like offering to fetch lunch for one of them under the guise of getting it for the whole team. Most of those instances were just hazy memories, disjointed and brief, but there was one Qrow never quite forgot, the events playing with almost startling clarity.

It had been a stormy night in November, the wind howling as it rattled the trees and rain pattered noisily against the window. It wasn’t particularly late in the evening, the rest of his team still doing homework, but he was feeling rather lethargic, so he had turned in early, hoping to sleep away the sickness. Instead he found himself only restlessly tossing about. The lingering chill in the air had him shivering under two sets of blankets, but the fever was mild in compared to the pain in his throat. It was as if someone had taken a blade to the back of it, leaving dozens of tiny, little cuts along the lining of his esophagus until every swallow was like an agony worse than throwing salt into a wound.

Tai, who was in the bed right next to his own, eventually looked up from the chapter he was reading and asked, “Qrow? You alright?”

“My throat’s killing me.” He rasped back, voice so distorted he could hardly tell it was his own.

Tai frowned, the genuine concern on his face only making Qrow wish he hadn’t said anything at all. He set aside his textbook and shifted until he was sitting up. “You want some painkillers?”

“Mmno. Not working.” He turned his back to him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. M’fine.”

There was a hovering pause between them, drawing long enough Qrow was certain the issue would get dropped. But then the bedsprings shifted as Tai got up, chirping almost merrily, “Hold on. I know just what you need.”

He watched him go, the blond only pausing long enough to snatch his vest from his bedpost and hurrying out their bedroom door with a quick, “Be right back!” to the girls before they could even think to ask where he was going. Qrow didn’t remember how long Tai was gone but he did remember how he returned, all of them looking over when he finally walked back inside.

Summer took one look at him, gaping as she pointed towards the window still being pummeled by rain. “Did you go all the way to town? In that?”

“Yep!” He was looking more triumphant than a man should when soaking head-to-toe and only having a small, plastic shopping bag to show for it. He dropped it onto the desk with a wet plop.

Raven’s expression was one of someone who didn’t know how to compute this rare brand of stupidity. “Why?”

“Home remedy.” Was his only answer as he kicked off his shoes. “Now uh, little privacy ladies? I really need to get out of these clothes.”

Tai didn’t wait for their agreement, already yanking off his jacket and undershirt. Summer gave a squeak, shoving her face in her notebook. Raven just rolled her eyes, turning back to her phone. Qrow just pulled up the blankets further and didn’t look.

Alright, alright. He peeked, just a little.

“Okay, I’m decent!” Tai eventually called, towel-drying his hair until it was nothing but an untidy mess before going back to the desk where he’d left his mysterious ‘home-remedy’.

Qrow watched him curiously, quickly realizing the familiar motions as the blond went about brewing up a kettle of tea. It made no sense; he knew Tai had plenty already here in the room. Why go through the storm for more?

He found out the reason was in a little jar of amber-gold liquid that Tai carefully took a spoonful of and stirred in. He wasn’t really sure what to make of it, so as he was being encouraged to sit up and handed over the cup, he mostly just stared between it and the brewer suspiciously.

“It’s just chamomile tea and honey. I promise.” Tai said, holding up two fingers like a salute. “A few cups of this’ll make you feel much better. The honey will help lessen the swelling in your throat. And chamomile is like, a SuperTea; it’s good for everything.”

Qrow wrinkled his nose some. Honey? As in the waxy, sweet stuff in beehives? The tribe only gathered that if they had someone with burns; the painful stings combined with the insects’ tendency to swarm usually drew them away for anything less. And people here could just buy it in a jar? And had enough to spare to throw it into their drinks?

Society was weird.

He doubted a bunch of sugar being poured down his throat would really make a difference, but he was desperate enough to try anything. He sipped slowly at the hot beverage, the taste of it – or what of it he could taste at least – surprisingly pleasant. Tai went back to his book, but always seemed to know when he’d finished a cup, happy to hop up and pour him another.

Qrow didn’t start noticing a difference until he started on his third, the pain seeming to lessen little by little. By the time he was through with his fourth, he could have believed he was in heaven with how much relief he felt. He hummed softly as he leaned back into the pillows propped up along his headboard, hugging the lingering warmth of the cup between his hands. He was almost content enough to doze off right then and there.

“Want another?”

“Nah. M’good.” Qrow peeled his eyes open, turning his head some. The girls’ side of the room was dark, the two having gone to bed a little bit ago.

Tai stifled a yawn, looking about ready to faceplant in his book. “Well, this is a good place to stop anyways.” He dogeared the edge, setting it on the nightstand. The cup joined it next, their shared lamp being turned off.

In the dark and with the girls already asleep, he finally felt brave enough to say it: “Tai?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime buddy.”

The past hazed into the present, the smile he imagined on Tai’s face ten years ago now a warm, caring reality greeting him as he crossed the room, balancing the tray on the nightstand.

“Gee, with this amount of preamble, I was thinking I was getting a four-course meal!” The blond quipped, voice having gotten scratchier in just the few minutes he’d been gone.

“Sorry, not your butler, just your drug peddler.” Qrow handed him the painkillers and lukewarm water once he’d sat up.

Tai chuckled, swallowing them without complaint. It was when he was given the cup of cherry cough syrup that he hesitated, turning to look up at him with eyes so sad that puppies would have adopted him. “Do I have to?”

“Gods, you’re more dramatic than your daughter.” He snarked.

“Which one?”

“Whichever choice offends you more.”

“Wow you’re getting lazy if you’re making me finish the insults for you.” Tai laughed – only for it to result in a new round of coughing. Served him right.

Qrow propped a hand on his hip. “Drink the damn medicine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He groused back once he could breathe again, doing a mental countdown before taking down the medicine in one go, quickly chasing it with the rest of the water, shuddering overdramatically against the taste.

“Here’s your reward for being an adult.” He said as he traded the glass and medicine cap for a tea cup. He placed the tray onto the ground where it would be safer.

Tai took a slow, savoring sip before saying, “Not sure a guy like you can give those rewards.”

Qrow ignored that in favor of diving back into the warm bed, rolling into the blankets and curling his arms underneath his pillow to better nestle into it. He had to fight the urge to immediately drift off. Instead, he angled his face enough to confirm, “Guess I’m subbing for your class tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Tai wilted, head like a drooping sunflower bud as he hunched over. “Sorry.”

He shrugged as best he could. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sure, keeping track of twice the amount of students wasn’t exactly the easiest of tasks, but he’d managed before. Tai just always acted like it was something to feel guilty about; as if they both didn’t have those days when getting up in the morning seemed impossible. “Eh, whatever. Your rugrats are nothing compared to mine.”

“Probably because you don’t teach them manners.”

“That’s not part of the syllabus.”

That finally got him to smile again. “You’ll have to get the girls ready for the morning too. Unless you want me to wake up with you?”

Qrow flipped onto his side, getting more comfortable. “Nah, no point risking you getting ‘em sick too. I got it.” He yawned some, tacking on drowsily, “Just worry about feeling better.”

“Alright. G’night.”

“Night.”

Things grew quiet. Qrow started to slowly drift. Just as he was on the edge of dreamland, he felt the warm touch of fingers brushing his bangs aside and the press of a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you.” Tai said, so soft it was almost missed entirely.

Though he could not rouse himself enough to answer verbally, it did not lessen the strength of his mind that whispered back:

Anytime.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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thejollyroger-writer · 6 years ago

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Keep Hope Close at Hand - Chapter Two

Note: Okay, so, apparently I have a lot of thoughts about this fic and my mind won't let me stop working on them. Not to mention all of the lovely comments and messages I've gotten about this story -- all of you fantastic readers are a large part of the reason I keep working on this as diligently as I have been. You guys are all the greatest! Don't stop!

Summary: When a curse is going to send the inhabitants of Enchanted Forest, Captain Killian Jones, husband to the Princess, must take their daughter through the wardrobe to save them from the curse and give her the ability to break the curse when the time comes.

Rated G // Read on AO3 //

Start at the Beginning: tumblr // AO3

Chapter One: tumblr // AO3

Tagging the crew that asked to be tagged: @shireness-says @wellhellotragic @flyflyangel @stahlop @superchocovian @kingofmyheart14 @drkeldonmd

Want to be tagged? Just comment, reply, or message me!

As he opens the door to the room that will house them for the near future, Killian realizes something: he’s never stayed at a Bed and Breakfast.

He’s never even felt the need to, if he is completely honest with himself.

Not that the place isn’t lovely, with its light walls and dark wood, one large bed taking up most of the center of the room. It’s just that rooms like this, the whole concept of the Bed and Breakfast to begin with, hits him just a little too close to home. Selling out rooms from what used to be someone’s house? Being able to go downstairs and eat breakfast in an actual kitchen with other guests, other travelers and the host always wanting to know who you are, where you came from? He’s lived through this before, just in much different circumstances.

Captain Hook was a fan of the “bed and breakfast” setup in the Enchanted Forest and in every realm that he could get his ship to. He would show up, drink everyone around him under the table, and take some woman back to his ship, or — even worse — upstairs to one of the rooms, leaving immediately afterward and never seeing her again.

Sure, he enjoyed it while it was happening. He was a pirate, the most vicious and hated pirate to sail any sea in those days. He was living what he believed to be his dream: long weeks on the sea, no one to tell him who he needs to be, what he needs to do.

But in those days, days that he frequented “bed and breakfasts” as often as he could, he was a completely different man. A man with no family, with no love, his only reason for living being his revenge.

He wasn’t a husband. He wasn’t a father. That man, the man whose identity he slowly began to shed when he met Emma, would never have sacrificed his own life to raise Hope on his own in a strange land, something he realized many years ago, before he even went through the wardrobe. That man, the man he used to be, would have run back to the safety of his ship at the slightest sign of danger and run to a new realm, leaving anything he built behind him.

That man had all of the wrong priorities. And, of course, he realizes that those priorities made it possible for him to live for hundreds of years, but none of the time he spent on the Jolly Roger comes anywhere close to the life he has lived in the past twenty years.

When he and Hope had gone away for vacations, which did not happen very often (why would anyone spend that much money to take their child to a place that worships an animated mouse?) and always consisted of trips to places with long stretches of beach and exciting attractions for his little girl, they had stayed only in hotels. People in hotels do not care where you came from, why your daughter does not have a mother, do not constantly barrage you with questions about your life just because you come down to get a bloody cup of coffee.

Hotels didn’t exist in any other realm, so they could not pull back memories of any other realm.

As Hope pokes around their room, exploring every nook and cranny that she can find, Killian tosses his duffel bag next to the bed before tossing himself on it, burying his head in the pillow.

He likes nothing about this situation. He likes nothing about this small town, which he knows is going to start suffocating him soon. He likes nothing about his lack of a plan, his lack of any sort of knowledge about what he needs to do to be reunited with his love. And, perhaps more than anything else, he likes nothing about that man from the diner, the smug look on his face and his arm slung over Emma’s shoulder like she was just a possession to him.

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking curses tended not to be. But he can’t help but ask himself questions that he probably shouldn’t. What if she really loves him? What if she doesn’t want to go back to the life they left behind because she likes the one she has found here more? Would he even be able to get through to her, given that she has been blinded by the curse? Does she even want to know the truth?

Gods, he hates this. He hates every single thing about this. The only bright spot in all of this is his daughter, his Hope — his hope — who climbs up on the bed next to him and nuzzles herself between his side and his arm, which he wraps around her small body.

They stay like that for a while, and he almost believes that she has fallen asleep beside him until she rolls away from him, turning to face him as he rolls onto his side, so small against the large California King bed.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

At first, she doesn’t answer, her brows knit in a way that makes him believe she is reading every line of his face, the same thing her mother used to do before answering a particularly difficult question.

But he lets her search his face for whatever she is searching for, a few moments of silence passing between them before she finally speaks, her question pulling all of the air out of Killian’s lungs:

“Mommy’s here, isn’t she?”

His eyes go wide, suddenly unable to breathe. He doesn’t know what to say, but if he knows one thing about his daughter, it is that she inherited her mother’s ability to know a lie the moment it passes through his teeth.

“Yes, she is. But how did you know, my cygnet?”

She slides back across the bed, hugging him as best she can and he opens his arms to her.

“I don’t know, daddy. Really, I don’t. But I can… I can feel it, somehow.”

Finally he is able to take a deep breath, and somehow, he does understand. Because with his arms wrapped around his daughter, he can feel it, too. He can feel that he is exactly where he is supposed to be, and all of the questions that tried to drown him just a few minutes ago beginning to move away as his daughter drifts off to sleep beside him.

Not wanting to dive into the whole small town mentality yet, Killian researches pizza places that would deliver to their room (of which there is only one in town, not to his surprise in the least) as Hope sleeps next to him. (One of the perks he found with his lack of a left arm, he learned once Hope started falling asleep next to him, was that, unlike the right, it did not “fall asleep” when Hope decided she wanted to use it as a pillow.)

He waits until she begins to stir from her nap, making sure that she is okay with their normal order of extra pepperoni before he calls in the order. (Pepperoni is something from this world that he quickly realized was heaven-sent, unlike large pick-up trucks, smart phones, and skiing.)

Their lunch arrives quickly, the shop only a block from where they are staying, which seems to be normal for “Storybrooke,” the name of the town, according to Google. How quaint. After scarfing down a few pieces each, they agree on a movie on the television, but Killian is only half-watching, trying his best to formulate some kind of plan in his head while trying not to get caught up with the memory of Emma's eyes meeting his at the diner.

He fails on both accounts.

By the time Hope asks about dinner, Killian has come to the conclusion that he can't continue to avoid the town if he needs to figure out how to break the curse. He hopes for anywhere other than Granny's, the memory of Emma there with her cursed husband and their cursed son weighing too much on his already-straining heart.

The only other alternative that appeals to both of them, though, is a burger-and-ice cream place, Any Given Sundae. When they walk in, it's thankfully almost empty, the only patrons an older couple in the back corner who Killian is thankful to notice fail to give him and Hope a second glance. He has to hold in a chuckle, though, when he realizes the woman behind the counter, who he assumes to be the owner, is one of Queen Elsa's aunts from Arendelle, the one who had the same ice powers as Emma's best friend.

She owns the ice cream parlor. Funny.

As always, he lets Hope choose their seat, halfway up the aisle opposite the older couple. Even though Killian has taken to trying to eat healthier recently (it absolutely had nothing to do with the strip of grey hair amid the sea of black, not at all), but he decides on a burger and fries anyway. His whole life has been flipped upside-down over the past few hours, so if his diet takes a sudden plummet, this is apparently a great time for it to happen.

Hope is halfway through her chicken sandwich, and Killian's burger long gone, when the bell on the door jingles, causing Killian's eyes to snap up to see who joined them. When he sees that it is none other than the young boy that was sitting across from Emma at the diner earlier, his eyes go wide and his heart stops in his chest, waiting for one of this parents to follow him into the building.

But that doesn't happen. Instead, the young boy meets Killian's eyes and smiles at him before crossing the restaurant to slide into the booth next to Hope.

Before Killian has a chance to comment, he speaks, the words coming out quickly. “You’re the man who was in the diner last night.”

“Aye, lad, what of it?”

He shrugs, turning from Killian to Hope. “My parents were trying to figure out who you are, we’ve never seen you in Storybrooke before.”

Killian expected the small-town questions to start the moment he stepped out of their room, but he never expected that a young boy would be the first source. Trying to sound as calm as he can, he replies, “My daughter and I are just here for vacation, some time away from the city.”

Henry reaches across the table and takes a French fry off of Killian’s plate, and he is amazed just how outgoing he is.

“That’s not true, though, is it?” the boy asks, and just as Killian starts to get defensive, Henry pulls a storybook out of his bag. “I know who you really are, and what you’re here for.”

“Is that so?” Killian shares a look with his daughter across the table, her eyebrow cocked in exactly the same way his probably is, and he takes a sip of his water.

“Yeah, of course,” Henry says, taking another fry off of his plate. “You’re Captain Hook.”

He stays silent, taking another mouthful of water to try to keep his face completely blank. But when Henry speaks again, Killian is not able to keep a straight face.

“You’re also my dad.”

Killian doesn’t know what to say, the last of his soda almost getting stuck in his throat.

“I’m afraid that’s entirely impossible, young man.”

Completely ignoring Killian’s comment, Henry jumps up to get back to wherever it was he was going, but leaves his storybook with Killian. “If you don’t believe me, just read the book.”

And he’s gone.

Hope looks up at Killian, just as confused as he is.

“Well, that was weird,” she says.

Killian agrees, but is unable to respond as he starts flipping through the pages of the book.

That night, he is unable to sleep. The light on his side of the bed is on all night as he flips through this book full of stories that can’t exist in this land, stories with pictures of people he knew. Stories he knows are true: how Snow White and Prince Charming met, when Belle saved Prince Philip, Mulan’s time with the Merry Men.

He flips through pages covered with stories of himself, his stories from the past hundred years. His time in Neverland, the death of his brother. His relationship with Milah. Going back to Neverland.

Meeting Emma, on a Royal mission to Neverland to try to gather information about Peter Pan. Falling in love with her.

Marrying her. Having Hope.

The Curse.

But at the end of the book, on the very last page, is a picture of Emma and David standing in their room in the castle, purple smoke billowing around them, which must be from the last moments before the curse took them, not long after Killian and Hope went through the wardrobe. Emma is crying, David’s arms wrapped around her, but her own hands are laid across her stomach.

“But, not wanting to hurt her True Love any more than was already inevitable with their parting, Princess Emma did not tell Killian her secret: that she was pregnant again, going to have another child, and she carried this secret with her as she said goodbye to her husband and daughter, just as the curse was about to strike.”

The book falls to his lap, his hands shaking as he reaches up to wipe a tear off his cheek. It was true. All of it was true. And if everything else was true, then the last part he read must have been true, as well. Emma didn’t tell him that she was pregnant again, so as to not hurt him any more than he was already hurting.

For the first time in a while, Killian purposefully pulls her ring out from under his shirt, on a long chain next to Liam’s.

And he has hope, for the first time in a while.

Because Emma is living with cursed memories, believing that man he saw her with is her true love, believing he is Henry’s father.

But now he knows the truth, and Henry knows the truth.

It’s time to tell Hope.

#my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #KHCAH #keep hope close at hand #cs ff #captain swan fics #cs fic rec #ouat ff #i really need to do homework now #killian jones has a lot of thoughts about bed and breakfasts #and just loves his daughter okay #(and emma of course)#but mainly outwardly just hope right now

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errantabbot · 6 years ago

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All Saints and Souls: An Address

Within the comparative religious circles in which I run, there’s a turn of phrase common to examining religious practice that I’ve become quite fond of, finding it exceptionally to the point, namely that of the “primal wound of consciousness.”

In essence, this “primal wound” is a meta-awareness that we are alive, coupled with the understanding that alive-ness itself is inextricably interlinked with death. It’s primal because this dual awareness is a fundamental building block in the very structure of consciousness, and it’s a wound because it predicates dis-ease.

From time immemorial the response to this primal wound has been to look outside of oneself for a possible solution, be it a grasping for eternity, or a shouting into the cosmos as a plea for understanding; religion as a whole has its raison d’etre rooted entirely in seeking a balm for this primal wound, and as it has evolved, in blunting some of the pointed difficulties that occur in the space between birth and death. There’s no doubt in my mind that our gathering together here each Sunday, and especially today as we obverse All Saints/All Souls Day, is an expression of religion of this sort. Our awareness of death and the losses it leaves in its wake is the usually unspoken, but plainly clear topic of the day. In the Judeo-Christian tradition we’re taught that humanity was created for an eternal life of bliss and ease in deep union with the divine. And yet, we’ve found ourselves, scripture says, subject to death, discomfort, and disunion; an unnatural reality given as result for somehow missing the mark in our former arrangement. Now, whether we approach this literally, allegorically, or even, not much at all, this supposition underlies most of our psyches, and we hope for one version of the biblical reward for faithfulness during our seemingly now fleeting lives, namely entry into heaven upon our death in this world. As a contemplative, I think it’s important that we not let these often subconscious suppositions go unchecked, and in reality, that’s what named days of reflection like this one are for, albeit usually with the intention of reinforcing dogma, and doctrine, rather than for posing question and evoking mysterious uncertainty. And of these two roads, I think that most of you know which one I am inclined to take. As you may remember, I was out of town last weekend traveling to Atlanta to open a new Meditation Monastery, and I distinctly recall the wondrous display of colors that the trees in Kansas City were projecting into the sky both on take-off and landing. It was truly stunning. The irony of fall, is that so many of us celebrate the very thing that cripples our tongues when viewed as a lens to our own experience. We have mazes cut through dead corn fields, falling temperatures that rid us of biting insects for a time, and of course, the color show that is put on especially well by our local foliage. We have fall themed coffee shop drinks, window clings, cupcakes, sprinkles in the shape of dead leaves, and memes galore that really seem to me more as memento mori – festive reminders of life’s transience, than anything else. Perhaps though, most of us don’t view them as such because we have faith that these things are ultimately but a sign of renewal. The trees bud, blossom, and bloom with new foliage, grasses push through the recently frozen ground, the crickets, cicadas, and yes, mosquitos all return. I find that most of us view ourselves similarly, as destined to whether, and destined to return- something of a staunch departure from our usual human lot of viewing ourselves as stewards of nature at best, and at worst, as distinct and separate from it. Alas, in examining such things, cognitive dissonance tends to kick in. After all, it’s not really as though each leaf that falls is really reanimated upon the tree branch, nor the blades of grass, stalks of corn, nor the chirps, buzzes, and bites of the crickets, cicadas, and mosquitos. Each comes in successorship, as part of an intimately interwoven fabric of reality, wherein the fallen leaves serve to nourish the ground with nitrogen and leaf mold that then becomes the nutrients trees use to bloom once again into our familiar spring waves of greenery. Beyond this ecological reality, modern evolutionary science has poked a gaping hole in any literal understanding of the Garden of Eden story. Not only were modern humans not created as finished products, two in number that came to populate the earth, but too humans did not name all of creation in primeval history, rather the creation of primeval history gave rise to humans. Certainly, humans weren’t uniquely created to live in paradise eternally. But we do seem to have evolved uniquely hardwired to seek eternity. Back in 2010 “The Onion” produced a very poignant piece of satire, entitled “Scientists Successfully Teach Gorilla It Will Die Someday,” the opening line of which read: “Tulane University researchers say Quigley is now able to experience the crippling fear of impending death previously only accessible to humans.” Interestingly enough, scientists were non-satirically able to have a discussion about death with Koko, the famed sign-language utilizing gorilla. Koko’s caretaker once showed the gorilla a skeleton and asked, “Is this alive or dead?” Koko signed, “Dead, draped.” “Draped” means “covered up.” Then the caregiver asked, “Where do animals go when they die?” Koko said, “A comfortable hole.” Then she gave a kiss goodbye. I don’t know about you, but I find as much beauty in that short, primatial dispensation as I do in admiring the fall leaves from several thousand feet. It’s simple, it’s raw, and it rings true, no exegesis needed. But, in light of all of this talk about primal wounds, and evolutionary biology, where does that leave religions, saints, and souls? It’s a fair question, and one that I fear not enough theologians are seriously engaging, let alone speaking toward. But, the fact of the matter is, if theology is to remain relevant in our emerging world, it must remain poised and confident to thrust itself into the unknown, as it always did in yonder days. If not more humbled than in the past. Cliff noted last week that this observance of All Saints/All Souls day is one of his favorite in the liturgical calendar. It’s one of mine too. However, I must admit that when I bring photos of my loved ones and ancestors to place upon the altar and reflect upon, I don’t do so out of some hope of praying for the repose of their souls, that is for their rest, tranquility, and ease. I suspect they’re accomplishing that quite well on their own. Rather, I do so to intentionally bask in the fullness of life, the known and the unknown, the coming, and the going, the joy, and the sorrow, and deep appreciation for the whole beautiful mess. I do so to remember- to remember that in the realm of the known, no one really just disappears, or goes away. We just have to turn our gaze inward rather than outward to find them after a certain time, the sad reality being that we so often forget that portion of ourselves and our loved ones while they’re expressed outwardly and visibly. After all, we exist not apart from them, neither metaphorically, nor literally. And so, perhaps humanity does stretch into eternity after all, if not created for eternity, then born into and from its all-transcending stream. In closing, I’m reminded of the most iconic verse of the 13th Century Japanese Zen monk Dogen Kigen who once wrote” “Life and death are of supreme importance. Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost. Each of us should strive to awaken. Awaken! Take heed, do not squander your life.” What is that opportunity? What is it that Dogen is inviting us to awaken to? I’d argue that it’s just this. The opportunity for us to reflect on who and what we are, where we come from, where we’re going, and where we fit into the whole Communion of Saints, now and ever. This is the balm of religion, knowing beyond words and intellectual constructs, and remembrance. [Pointing toward the memorial altar:] As the Jewish people so wonderfully put it, “May their memory be for us a blessing.” ~Sunyananda November 11th 2018

#zen #buddhism #buddhist #buddha #dharma #sangha #saint #soul #christian #christ #interfaith #multifaith #religion #spiritulity #awakening #life #dea

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icecoldparadise · 7 years ago

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Beginning of an End

Original piece done by me for my Creative Writing class.

Beginning of an End

Death is not what humans imagine it to be. It is not an ominous, heavily cloaked figure looming over its unfortunate victim with an enormous scythe and a dark hood covering its face. Death is countless unseen spirits standing quietly by, waiting. Believe it or not we do not physically cause people to die, or affect how they die in any way. We gather all souls gently and guide them to the afterlife, so they don’t get lost. Lost souls roam the earth, and if we cannot find them they stay in the mortal realm indefinitely until we do manage to track them down. Most of the time deaths do not phase us- we know long in advance who we are assigned to guide and when, even how they’re supposed to go. Sometimes, though, a death has great significance and weight to it. Children are the definitely some of the hardest souls to collect- we’ve had to take children who have not even left the womb yet, children who have been brutally and senselessly murdered, children who simply became deathly ill or injured the wrong way- and while they are small spirits, they hold the greatest weight. Other times, we have to take a member of a species that, with their death, would either cause the species to become (or come one step closer to becoming) extinct.

Today is one of those deaths. I lean against the damp cave wall with a heavy heart as I watch a knight “valiantly” fighting a dragon. The nearby villages have sent a total of six different knights to slay the “vicious dragon that keeps roasting our people as they try to pass through the mountain”, completely unaware that the dragon was only turning people into crisps because she was protecting her clutch of eggs. Humans don’t tend to think about these things as possible reasons for aggression- they assume that the dragon is merely a monster who relishes in guarding gold and eating people for supper. While this is sometimes the case, many races have been destroyed by this kind of ignorance- sometimes completely unknown by the humans themselves. A wave of sorrow hits me even now as I remember the merciless fall of the elves, the murder of the dryads as the forests containing the last of their homes were chopped down for resources. Merfolk, dragons and the fauns are hanging on by a thread now as rivers are tainted or damned and the others are hunted, the end of their kinds looming on the horizon…

But I digress. The fight going on before me is certainly one for the ages: both man and dragon fight brilliantly, strategically, desperately trying to avoid the inevitable. The dragon knows her time is near- she felt me arrive not long before the knight did, and although she knows she will die, she fights with her entire being to protect her precious ones that have yet to come into this chaotic world. Stalactites fall as the dragon’s wings and long, spiny back crash into them, stalagmites shatter into a million pieces with the force of her strong tail obliterating them. Some of the debris hits the knight, causing him to stumble and yelp in pain. The dragoness takes advantage of the opening and gets a good swipe in with her wing, launching him against the stony wall. His body crumples momentarily before he slowly, agonizingly peels himself off the floor and braces himself for a fresh attack.

The fire from the knight’s torch casts an eerie light in the cavern, colorful specks sprayed across the walls and floors as the light reflects off the dragon’s iridescent purple scales and makes her onyx claws gleam. The dragon’s own fire turns the knight’s sword into a radiating blade of destruction, flashing like lightning in the otherwise dim surroundings. It would have been pretty, the way they fought, if it were an elegant dance instead of a battle for life and death. The knight was clearly experienced in the way he whirled his blade, as if it were part of his being instead of just a mere tool. His footing confident and strategic, parries and blocks precise. The dragon was fierce and agile despite her size, managing to get past his defenses and land what would later be fatal blows on his already battered body. Sadness washed over me; this man would get to live like a hero for at least a week until those wounds festered and killed him, but the dragon would not live to see the dawn of the next day. As they continued to fight I could feel the sands of time slipping away from them both, neither one immune from the inevitable call of death.

I waited.

And waited.

At last, after an excruciatingly long hour had passed, after the knight was drenched in sweat and blood with limbs shaking from exhaustion, he found his mark. The despairing scream that echoed throughout the cavern wrenched my heart as the dragon finally fell. I silently strode over to her and put a gentle hand on her side as she labored for her last breaths, soothing her as best I could by reminding her she wasn’t alone in this final moment. I felt her large body shudder weakly and grow still. The knight seemed to sense me; he shuddered as if suddenly cold before he sank to his knees, breathing also labored. After catching his breath and tending to his wounds he left, stumbling out the way he came in. He was completely unaware of her precious eggs hidden in the back of the cavern, untouched by the battle. As her spirit lifted from her body I felt a sense of relief wash over her, her mission accomplished and her babies safe. I greeted her warmly, fondly. She nuzzled my shoulder in greeting, at peace with her end. We were about to take our leave when tiny footsteps echoed through the cavern, and I felt her soul overflow with fear.

A small fire fairy padded into the empty cavern and I felt the dragon relax instantly- she knew this fairy somehow. At the sight of the dragon’s body a small cry of despair escaped the fairy boy, his feet running over to the dragon before his legs collapsed. The cavern filled with sobs as he grieved the unnecessary loss of yet another friend. After he mourned for the loss of the dragoness, his head jerked up and his eyes honed on where the eggs were hiding. He frantically clambered to his feet and his bright red wings vibrated to life as he zipped to the hidden clutch, carefully unburying them from the skillfully crafted pile of stones. A sigh of relief could be heard as he tenderly scooped up the three eggs, his skin glowing red as he began to provide them the necessary warmth required to start the maturation process. Determination crossed his face as he flew for the exit, protectively clutching the scaly eggs to his chest as if his life depended on it.

I looked at the dragon with an unspoken question: are you ready? A satisfied hum thrummed through her spirit as she nodded, the knowledge that her eggs would be given the best care possible putting her completely at peace. We turned away from the cavern and began our ascent past the mortal world into the heavens towards the afterlife, our spirits leaving the physical realm behind. Her kind would not last much longer, but for now at least it would live for a while longer… At least as long as the humans couldn’t find the remaining dragons. There were only six remaining, not including the three eggs that were just rescued. Unfortunately, some of the other death spirits had to guide a good twenty baby dragons after the humans found and destroyed seven clutches of dragon eggs. The end of the dragons was coming sooner than any of us death spirits would like, but then again that’s how it is for the ones who guide all creatures to the afterlife throughout eternity. We see nations rise and fall, creatures that once were fade into the oblivion of the past without so much as a memory to live through. We witness the creation of races and creatures, only to watch them die and be replaced by something new every few millennia.

The era of dragons was nearing its end; the magical races would soon follow into the darkness and fade into legend. Those legends would eventually become myths, and the evidence needed to prove they were real would decay long before it could be discovered. I have watched it happen with many of the creatures that coexisted with the dinosaurs that did not die in optimal preservative material, and I have witnessed the evidence of creatures before them be destroyed by nature.

The age of man may be rising, but it will not last forever. The sheer amount of lives lost in the upcoming wars is astronomical; it is good that we are many, or there’d be no way to keep up and too many souls would become lost. Humans will last an incredibly long time, and they will destroy more things than they will ever create. They won’t mean to, of course; they’re just naturally oblivious, clumsy and prone to violence. In the end however their kind will fall as well, and their grand achievements will crumble into dust. The next species will take over and before anyone realizes it the structures built will be obliterated, the knowledge they had barely preserved by the race following them before it is also lost. The horrific atrocities they commit will leave no lasting trace and ultimately will be forgotten, and the cycle will start all over again. I cringed, bracing myself for the horrors the death spirits were going to witness throughout the ages at the hands of humans. I can’t help but mourn for the ones that will become their victims, beautiful creatures unnecessarily destroyed, and many will be members of their own species. But I take heart in the fact that in time, they will cease to exist. As the dragons and merfolk and dryads and countless other species before them, they will meet their end, in ways that are just as terrible as what they’re doing to the magical creatures.

No species lasts forever.

The era of humans will fall.

@thelogicalloganipus

#original work #story #fantasy #fiction

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eyesseeingbeyondtheveil · 8 years ago

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Blood and Tears

“This was a fantastic idea, Imouto.”

“Of course it was.”, the sprite sounded smugly pleased with herself, doubled with the way she shut her eyes, upturned her nose and crossed her arms over her bust. “How could you ever question the depth of my genius?”

Kimiko rolled her eyes and laughed as she nibbled on her tsukune. Her Mother would have a fit of rage knowing she was indulging on more than just one - in fact, her last count was probably about five. But who cared? Mom wasn’t there to skewer her with a sharp gaze and steer her away this time! Around them the city still seemed alive with activity; the moon had long since risen high in the dark sky, the only light in the heaven’s visible as all the lights of the illuminated lanterns drove out the sparkle of the stars. Conversations were nearly ever bit as bustling as the day market...if the fare tended to be more than just rice, meats and clothstuffs.

She scuffed her sandals slight as she walked, keeping her pace steady and rather slow. Her dark eyes went to a set of men discussing...Her eyes narrowed a bit over her next bite, straining to hear...It was a word she didn’t recognize, but it was plainly clear that the deal was meant to be highly secretive. They didn’t make a grand show of the exchange, but their heads were dipped near one another and their hand gestures did about as much talking as the swiftness in which their lips moved.

Interesting...

“Kimi!”

The men looked up at the sound of her name being called, and for a moment, three sets of eyes locked. The girl stopped dead in the middle of the street, feeling as if she’d been caught in something she had a clue was very illegal...and something that was going to get her in to a LOT of trouble. The spell broke the next second and she scurried off to where Imouto had stopped in front of another shop. More food...she swore the sprite could put away more than she did, and she didn’t even technically need to eat! Salted potatoes from the look of it, and though Kimi had ceased being hungry with that last meat stick, she found herself fishing out more coin to give it a try.

Talking and laughter; the men were soon forgotten. Whatever they were dirtying their hands with, a distant memory. This was -their- night...maybe one of the last they were going to be able to have together...

A sharp cry, half muffled caught the merchant daughter’s attention. She paused mid-sentence to her friend, her head swiveling around in the direction if had come from.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? No. I heard you talking and then you stopped. What are you on about? Kimi-”

But the girl had already started off, darting down the narrower streets that went between the houses. The light was thinner here, blocked off by the rise of the buildings. Another corner and she found them; more precisely a group of men clustered together, practically wedged in to the space. Their shoulders were all hunched inwards, and there was a lot of scuffling of feet...it took another few seconds before her brain registered that they were standing above another person curled up in the fetal position, tucked in as close on themselves as they could get to protect against the rain of feet coming in from all angles.

Jaw dropped, the girl was frozen in to place. She could just barely make out the sound of the man’s pleading, met with the jeers of those assaulting him. Her breath hitched, before she choked, putting her hands over her lips. She didn’t know who they were...but really, what did it matter? Every profile was both vivid and blurred at the same time.

“Stop...”

“...Stop it!”

She didn’t run towards them, but her hands had curled in to fists to either side of her face. As tough as she pretended to be...sneaking out on her own, defying her parents wish and dreaming of living independently, she was terrified right then. She had no weapon, nor was she some guard in padded armor to protect her. But there she stood still as the faces turned towards her, pausing in action long enough to access what and whom had just come upon their deeds.

"What's this all about now?", the voice was low, but not unpleasant...certainly not belonging to a monster that would participate in a beatdown in the middle of a dark alley. In fact, it was almost smooth, cultured - as was the man that separated himself from the others and moved over towards her. The others behind him shifted restlessly, but most now stood away from the man that had gone so still on the walk. Still staring, Kimi gave a little jolt when it seemed like only a blink and the man was directly in front of her, leaning down even as she leaned her upper body away. His smile was handsome, and upturned more in one corner than the other...but it was the fact that it didn't reflect in the cold darkness of his own coal-black eyes that kept her grounded.

"I told you...to stop. Leave that person alone.", her voice trembled, there was no denying it. Really, she was surprised she had a voice at all. "One person couldn't have made all of you that made to be picking on him!"

The grin split wider, showing a hint of teeth past the thin but finely shaped lips. "It's not about us, Miss. It seems his offense was a deep one against a close friend of mine. And since he continues to be offensive rather than apologize, we had little course of action. Now, I do hate to be cliche, but be kind, and run along."

Stupidity was rapidly taking over. The rational part of her brain was positively screaming at her, while the part gone numb from shock at her own self and this whole situation made her lips move to respond with: "No. -You're- the ones that need to go away now.", she felt her feet slid apart, her stance broaden...that readying posture that Sensai had taught her. The old man had worked with her as many bells as Kimi could steal...she could take them! She'd show them...

"Heh."

Pain erupted in her midsection before the odd sensation of being off the ground, weightless...A hard crash as she hit the ground, exploding more pain through the rest of her body as little bits of dirt clawed at her exposed areas of skin. The girl gasped - the very action an offense to her lungs that protested with an ache more profound than she'd ever felt in her life. She struggled more, managing to crawl up on to her arms even as a pair of shoes appeared in front of her line of sight. She couldn't lift her head, it felt too heavy; her vision swam and drifted lopsided....

Don't pass out...

"Told you to keep going, little girl. So sorry you had to-"

The voice cut off abruptly as a flurry of other voices joined the first in rapid layers of concern. There was an even closer curse, and then running feet - some towards, others away. Something hit the ground in front of her and wobbled on it's misshapen design. She wasn't sure why, but she reached out to touch it. The man, and the ones with him, were gone...The jangle of armor and the rattle of swords made her think that maybe...maybe it was the guard that was coming. A tinkering, familiar sound followed by a high pitched voice...

Imouto...

Kimiko managed a groan as her fingers closed around the object. A mask; her fingers had punctured through the eye holes of it before she rolled on to her back to try and ease the throb in her chest. She could breathe again at least, if a little shallowly. Yes, there was Imouto. She was calling her, over and over again, while blackness crept in to the edges of her vision. Someone took ahold of her arms, were helping her to her feet, and that was just awful.

Awful...but exactly what she needed.

Through the fog of everything, she realized she couldn't be found here! Not like this, not this late. Her freedom would forever be cost then. "Get off me!", she jerked with everything she could from the hands that, while tight, were more steadying than demanding or restraining. They broke at her outcry, and when she turned to look at who had been holding her, she did recognize the insignia on the breastplate of the armor. The night guard...the ones that kept the peace. He was talking back at her, but she didn't have the comprehension to absorb any of it. Another little burst of energy had her taking flight to burst by him and back out in to the crowd that had stopped to see what was going on.

Good...good! A crowd meant cover...cover meant escape...

More voices, men and women, blurred together as she squeezed between the pedestrians. She felt fingers brush her - to swat her away for being so forceful, or to stop her, she didn't care which. She fled, stumbled, picked herself up, then ran more, the adrenaline that had been too slow to help her before now moving her on in a way that felt blind. Instinct took her back to the familiar neighborhood where her parent's home was nestled...

My home, my bed...my safety...it hurts so bad...

She climbed back up the stack of water catching barrels behind the house, squeezing and maneuver herself through the still open window of her room. She missed her dresser, slipping and landing with enough force that it rattled her teeth against one another. After that it, it was just impossible to reach her bed...She laid where she had landed, half curled up, half stretched out on the plush of her rug, her pillow for the night.

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