#//he wishes he could grant the same mercy to the human

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[murdrdocs]

MDNI ; explicit NSFW content

sometimes, when the night air has a bite to it and the stars seem to shine a little brighter, luke castellan will sit by your side and confess his desire for a normal teenage life.

he won't say much, only telling you that he wishes he lived a life similar to yours, and maybe you can pull a specific desire or two out of him. but either way, you're always quick to fill the silence with possibilities, telling him of all of the things you he do to achieve a similar feeling.

he tries to implement some of them into life at camp half-blood. asking for cherry and blue raspberry slushies in his goblet at dinner. partaking in your stash of substances you shouldn’t have had at camp when he's free. sneaking around with you to play with each others bodies with enthusiastic curiosity at any hour of any day.

from what you can tell, that is his favorite part about being a teenager.

at first, he was quick to turn your casual conversations during the night into desperately grinding your clothed crotches against each other without any cares of how it looked, only caring about how it felt. letting out any moan or praise or thought in a quiet enough whisper to not alert anyone (or more likely, anything) that could be out there with you.

and even though you had nothing but constellations as your witness, you dare not bare your bodies. instead keeping them trapped in your clothing, attempting to ignore the way heat was multiplying as you both chased a feeling that seemed impossible to catch like this.

it was much easier to capture the feeling that started low in your groins before erupting all over the rest of your bodies when you were in the showers. where he became more desperate and bold.

always being the last two to clean your bodies at night would guarantee solitude, a state neither of you ever took for granted. times like those, you share a stall, stripped down completely with nothing at all to hide your bodies, save for the soap which is not used until after.

after he’s kissed you stupid.

after his fingers have traced every curve and bend and protrusion of your body.

after you’ve admired him with your eyes and your lips and practically begged him to do something, anything.

after he’s brought both of you pleasure from whatever method he’d settled on that night, or from whatever seed of an idea you sweetly planted in his brain.

no matter when or where or how, luke is always eager to have you.

it’s nearly impossible for him to get his fill, a stark reminder to you that while he is a normal boy in most circumstances, the blood running through his veins gives him an edge human boys will never have. the power coursing through him—a characteristic you share but not to the same extremity—allows him to take you over and over again without faltering, even when you’re left begging for mercy.

(sometimes, he’ll pity you. most times, he kisses you to keep you distracted, and then swiftly pulls another orgasm out you before you can cry and whine about it)

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Nico Robin!Reader with Loki, Buddha, Tesla, Beelzebub, Jack, Ares, Hermes, Rudra, Hades, Hercules and Platonic Zerofuku

She fights against Athena or some brutish god that doesn’t care about destroying Human History, which angers her and she smiles as she reveals her ‘Devilish Side’ (Using Demonio Fleur, which horrifies her opponent and they’re begging for mercy, only for Reader to break their spine) when some random god says her win doesn’t count because she ‘Cheated’ she uses her power and… crushes his balls (I love Robin she’s my queen 💖)

she calls (Love) a Squirrel when he eats with his cheeks stuffed with food (She calls Loki adorable when he messes up with his transformations) and her dark sense of humor keeps people on their toes

-As you walked out, following Athena’s over the top entrance, many were a little disappointed, as you didn’t seem anything special, you weren’t dancing or doing any fancy moves, you weren’t even holding a weapon! How are you going to fight Athena of all goddesses with no weapons?!

-Athena smirked down at you, but she was a little surprised, seeing that you didn’t look at all bothered, as the humans cheered for you. It was a little odd, as you remembered, for most of your life, humans were hunting you, wanting the bounty on your head, believing the government that you were a demon and needed to be destroyed.

- As the fight started, you crossed your arms in front of you, “Mil Fleur: Gigantesco Mano!!” hands started to surround you, forming into something bigger and bigger, before two massive hands appeared and you controlled them, swinging out to open-hand strike at Athena who only barely blocked the first one, but was sent flying with the second one.

-Many were stunned, seeing your abilities, several were shouting that this ability was illegal- but Zeus did relent, as it was a part of you when you had died, it was legal, but that still didn’t please everyone.

-You and Athena traded blows back and forth and you were panting heavily, injured and you needed to wrap this battle up soon. Athena then smirked and changed her own form, to be one that towered over you, the same size of her statue in Athens as she smirked down at you, “How will you handle this?!”

-You just smirked, stunning her as you closed your eyes for a moment, gathering what strength you had left, “Demonio Fleur~” eyes went wide as your own body seemed to grow and grow, your skin turning to almost pitch black with a red tint, horns and wings sprouting from your body, making you look like an actual demon.

-Many were terrified to see this form, but so many were also stunned, seeing that you could transform into a demon, despite being a human.

-Athena was terrified of you, demanding you to get back, shocking so many, as she was regarded as one of the bravest gods, and many were shouting for you to let her go as you managed to grab her. She was still trying to insult you, trying to break free as you both started screaming, you from overexerting yourself, and her from pain as well as trying to get out.

-You then shouted out, “Gran Jacuzzi Clutch!!” and a sickening snap echoed through the arena, as you broke Athena’s back and she went limp in your arms, dying.

-Your demonic form faded as she fell to the ground and you were gasping for air, exhausted from the battle, but you couldn’t help but smile, hearing the cheers for you as you had won the whole tournament.

-Zues approached you as you stood, as he had promised, if humanity won this final match, he would grant your wish, and you stunned everyone by smiling, “Bring everyone back.” Zeus was surprised, hearing your wish, but he couldn’t help but chuckle, “Perhaps you’re not a demon at all, Y/N.”

-You just turned, walking away from him as everyone was reforming, as you needed to get to the infirmary, “No- others were the ones who made me like this. But I will wear the crown if it fits.”

-Another god, who couldn’t believe that you defeated Athena, shouted at you, “You cheated- that power of yours isn’t fair!!” you looked up at him and he froze as two hands appeared and everyone around him froze as you grabbed his balls, crushing them, making all men around fear you, or at least fear insulting you- you were quite cruel when you wanted to be.

-Your words stunned many, hearing that you weren’t a cruel person, but others deemed you one, claiming you were evil, and you remember a time in your life when you were, doing vile things , but after you met your captain- no… your family, you only did bad things to protect them and yourself. They had given you a second chance when nobody else would, and you wouldn’t let anyone who didn’t earn it take it from you.

-You were resting in the infirmary when one of the nurses said you had a guest and you opened your eyes, curious as to who was coming and when Zerofuku walked in, you couldn’t help but smile softly, welcoming him.

-Immediately he was across the room, lunging into your arms, which made you giggle softly, hugging him close as he sniffled softly, “I’m so glad you’re okay!” when he pulled back, tears streaming down his face, you couldn’t help but smile softly, brushing the tears from his cheeks, “I’m okay now, Zerofuku.”

-He sniffled again, “Pinkie promise?” you just smiled, knowing the truth behind pinkie promises, showing your more morbid sense of humor as you showed him both of your pinkies, “Which one do you want if I’m lying?”

-He froze, realizing what you had just said before he started wailing loudly, hugging you around his neck as you giggled softly before you heard another knock at the door.

-(Love) walked in, giving you a slightly exasperated look, “Really Y/N- you know you shouldn’t joke about things like that.” Your hand hid your lips as you giggled softly, Zerofuku pulling back to rub at his eyes as (Love) came over, sitting on the opposite side before he wrapped his arms around you, sagging into your embrace, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” You smiled softly, lifting a hand to stroke at the back of his neck, “I decided long ago that nobody was going to kill me unless if they earned it the hard way.” (Love) couldn’t help but chuckle- he knew that you were strong, you wouldn’t go down easily as your two boys, your lover and your adopted son, both doted on you as you were still recovering.

            -Beelzebub, Hades, Hermes, Rudra, and Jack

-Immediately ran in and joined Zerofuku, hugging the both of you, crying loudly, “You’re okay!!” you couldn’t help but giggle, as he knew you were okay if you were making dark jokes like this, like normal. Seeing both of them crying crocodile tears, which did make you think of your old boss, Crocodile, crying, which was rather amusing to think about, you did try to calm them down, “You’re going to give yourself puffy eyes and cheeks- you’ll look just a like a couple of squirrels.” They both sniffled in unison, which you did think was adorable, a giggle rising out of you as you hugged them to you, happy that you won- you had them both in your arms again.

            -Loki, Buddha, Nikola, Ares, and Hercules

[solspina]

how good are you at angst vesp…

can i get angst scenarios for guilliman, horus, sanguinius, konrad, and my beloved leman russ :3 plot is entirely yours!

i’m horrible with angst but my inbox is open for a reason, ask and you shall receive. also, this isn’t edited or revised so i’m sorry for mistakes :(

tw: the usual, blood probably, spoilers, horus and sanguinius’ stories are tied together

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Roboute Guilliman had known you since childhood. A great friend of his family, beloved by both his mother and father, both whom shared lighthearted jokes about the primarch being united with you in marriage someday. They were never jokes to him. A life with you was what he wanted, a dream of his.

And yet a sword pierced his father’s heart and your hand was on the blade. You may as well have placed a second blade into Guilliman’s chest just as deeply as you had the first, the way that your face held no remorse and your body trembled from exhaustion. His father had tried to fight you, the story told from the several bleeding cuts littered your body, as did blood that came from no cuts at all. Your hands were soaked in red.

And just as the stories told his father would be avenged by the hand of Guilliman. He went down a hero, and you unknowingly went down a traitor of the imperium, your name in no history books.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus Lupercal had been there when his brother had rejected your incredibly obvious advances at him, too caught up in his self-centered idea of godhood to understand what your words truly meant, that there was meaning behind them. He had been there, he had comforted you, hung his arm around you once his brother had left the scene, and yet you rejected his own offer when he had asked you to join the Sons of Horus and leave your old life behind, just as you had told Sanguinius you wanted to.

And what a loyal little thing you were. Your arms outstretched over his brother’s body, begging him not to deal the final blow. Sanguinius was in the midst of taking his final breaths, and you wouldn’t let Horus have the glory of ending his “perfect” brother’s life. You were small, you were not enough. He made sure he left you alive and unharmed to watch the angel be thrown to the other side of the room before he struck him one last time. You still ran after him as if playing fetch and part of him wished you were, so that maybe you would tear the angels wings from his back and hold them like they were your trophy.

Horus took the moment you had your back turned to stab you in it, making sure you would never reach the angel. Perhaps he would grant you both one final mercy. As the shadows crawled from the depths to pin Sanguinius against the wall like a crucified sinner, he made sure you were pinned just the same next to him. If you were going to be loyal, fine by him. You would be loyal in life and in death.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Sanguinius knew he was beloved by all, it was part of his daily life if he were being honest. When you approached him, small and trembling, to tell him you loved him, he laughed. To love a being you viewed as your god was standard, was it not?

No. you loved him. He’d seen the way humans had behaved around each other when they felt love. They held each other close in their arms. Caressed parts of each other tenderly, hands, arms, faces, gentle touches he’d long accepted he could never have. The humans who surrounded him idolized him far too much to lay their hands on any part of him, for he was far too pure. He’d accepted that this love from godhood was the only love he would ever obtain. Humans may be capable of loving primarchs, but not mutants, not him.

And yet you were the last thing he saw before his vision faded to nothing, the last thing he felt before his heart ceased to beat. You kneeled over him, a feeble and weak human attempt to protect him from the unforgiving strikes of Horus. You could not protect him. He lay with his back against the wall, bleeding, weakened, your primarch robbed of his glory. You grabbed his hand, holding it as gently as you possibly could. Horus seemed to hesitate, allowing his brother a moment of peace as you held his hand. You had been stabbed by Horus too, a fatal wound for a human, yet you remained strong for your primarch, your hands running delicately through the feathers of his broken wing.

Sanguinius took his final breaths, and yet he smiled ever so slightly. He was loved. The final blow had ended both of your lives, the shadows that approached to hang the angel on the wall like a trophy grabbed your body alongside his, hanging him up as if he had been crucified, and you in the crease of his wing. In life and in death, he realized far too late that he was loved.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Had you rejected Konrad Curze, he would’ve felt no different than his usual daily attitude. By some miracle, though, you hadn’t rejected him. You hadn’t turned away, you never would turn away and that you promised him. A promise you would break, inevitably.

It was incredibly tough to help him recover his mental health following his difficult childhood, incredibly draining, at that. So when his health started to decline during the heresy, you could no longer take it, and your promise was nothing but severed twine scattered across the floor. He’d try to track you down, to make things right, to make things better.

You were gone when he finally reached you. Physically there, but your heart no longer beat in your chest. He had become a primarch, stronger than he was on his home world, and even at his strongest he had failed you.

Execution seemed too merciful of a fate for him, but he’d take that mercy with open arms.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Leman Russ, the emperor’s most loyal (self proclaimed) son knew nothing but loyalty after being raised by wolves. Your loyalty back to him was an easy pledge, and he loved you dearly, no more than he loved the emperor and his cause.

When you fell to sickness upon his cold planet, your immune system had obviously and inevitably weakened to a near impossible point of return, and it was during a clash with a squadron of plague marines. Leman kept you as far away from the front lines as he could. He would be unable to forgive himself if you died, or worse, fell into the clutches of Nurgle.

But by Nurgle’s grace, you were granted freedom from your sickness. You hadn’t died, no, that would be too simple a fate for you. The unforgiving clutches of chaos would make sure you never felt this ill again. You’d never turn your back on the chaos god, lest your beautifully gruesome gifts become gifts no longer.

Leman spared you one final sorrowful gaze as you retreated with your newfound army, your skin already discord and your eyes looking like they could fall from your once gorgeous face at any second. For a moment, he swore he saw the same expression in your chaos filled eyes. Sorrow, fear, heartbreak.

[heliopauseentertainments]

In Memoriam

Part of MegOp Week 2024 Prompt - Day 7: Vulnerability/Acceptance

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Megatron & Optimus Prime

Characters: Megatron

Warnings: Vignette, Referenced Character Death, Grief, Mourning, Swearing

Summary: In which before being taken to have his sentence carried out, Megatron is granted a final request.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

It had taken some finagling, but Ultra Magnus had gotten the Galactic Council to grant Megatron a final wish before he would be rendered insensate in isolation.

It might as well have been death; it was functionally death.

But he had been allowed this one indulgence. Even Prowl, in a rare display of mercy, had been in agreement that Megatron could have this.

It wasn’t the exact place that Optimus had met his end, but the Earth, a planet so fateful to their kind, was the closest solid ground Megatron could get to. Of course, the various governments of Earth had been against his visit, no matter how brief. However, on the condition that he was disarmed and squarely in the sights of more guns than could be considered reasonable, even the humans had allowed him to come to their world one last time.

Standing now in front of a monument erected in a joint effort by some of the few survivors of their species and the humans that did not detest all Cybertronians, Megatron could say farewell to his friend. In a strange way, they had been friends.

Ultra Magnus stood several paces away, having been allowed to accompany his “client” on this little journey. He kept his back respectfully turned, giving Megatron the dignity of a veneer of privacy, even if none of the soldiers ready to fire upon him could give him the same courtesy.

The monument, a large, polished white marble stele with the same dedication engraved in multiple languages. Neocybex, of course, but the remainder were several of Earth’s languages. His universal translator was able to decipher most of them in a sort of flat way, but he was sure much nuance was being lost.

“In memoriam of Optimus Prime of Iacon—“ Incorrect, Primes traditionally lost their city names upon ascension. “—our friend from the far off planet of Cybertron—“ No longer extant. “—who selflessly sacrificed himself—“ As he had been wont to do his entire life, yes. “—to protect Earth from destruction.”

An etching of Optimus’s face, in partial profile, had been placed in the center of the slab, surrounded in scrollwork and geometric shapes, a fusion of typical Iaconian styles with the more organic aesthetic of Optimus’s favorite mudball world—Megatron oughtn’t call it that.

Knowing that Optimus was dead and seeing the purported proof were vastly different things. An icy weight, a grief he had not borne since he had believed Terminus dead, tugged inward on his spark, compressing it until it seemed like it might implode.

In the grooves of the carved glyphs and artwork, Megatron could see traces of color, as though the monument had been the victim of graffiti. Forcibly bringing a previously sovereign world into consortium with alien governments tended to not be popular. Megatron ought to know, after all.

For all of the love and admiration and worship foisted upon Optimus, there would, of course, be those who wholeheartedly disagreed. Megatron could hardly blame them.

At least Optimus had had the luxury of actually dying.

Lucky bastard.

Megatron was to be punished with an endless undeath. Alone forever with his thoughts whenever the drive they would hook his spark up to would fluctuate, interrupting his senseless, slumbering void.

He reached out with his hands, his wrists awkwardly cuffed together. He could have broken the cuffs easily, but there was no need. It wouldn’t change anything.

Placing his palm on the etching of Optimus’s face, he smiled. A warm pressure bloomed in his spark, pushing through the cold grief.

“You finally did it, you foolish hero, you finally did it.”

There was a heavy sigh as he brushed his palm over the ridges in the marble.

“And, like usual, you didn’t bother to wait for me.”

[bunniekittiee]

time of dying - johnny slaughter x reader

I tried to keep Johnny in character as much as I could but I feel like he got a bit ooc.

Warning: loss of virginity, non-con, Stockholm syndrome kinda?, Johnny is a POS pt.3, finally gets his karma, but oh reader is just too sweet, angsty as hell, kinda of a good ending?

The Devil loved to corrupt God’s angels, it was a war between who could save those same angels from the fate of the Devil’s wrath. He loved the way her virgin blood trickled down her thighs and pooled at the bottom, staining his own thighs in the process. The blood smeared across their groins, connecting them to a much more deeper level than before. God should have never let his most beloved creations wander far, for the Devil was known to sink his jowls into their flesh and drink their essence.

“Ya’ didn’t tell me ya’ were a virgin.” he purred in her ear with his eyes glistening with lust and bliss.

She whimpered as her tears stained her rosy cheeks, and her eyes bore into the soulless creature that thrusted his hips into hers. It was hard to make out the rest of his features, almost as if the dark wanted to obscure any signs of humanity. He was a mere man. Yet it felt as if she was staring into the pits of Hell itself.

That familiar vile, humiliating feeling crept inside of her lower stomach and made its presence known immediately after he was finished. Her virgin blood and his semen mixed together, creating a toxic substance that stung her torn hymen. She ached in every crevice of her body. He consumed her entirely and she belonged to him now. There was no point of return, this was where she had to be.

The pain was all too familiar when he forcefully entered her. He had already broken her hymen, but her body repeated the phantom pain of its breakage. It was supposed to be for a special person one day, a man who loved her and cared for her. A man who gave her what she wanted as she did the same for him.

But oh, how unfair life is for the creator’s angels whom he placed upon his Earth. She had what was hers unrightfully stolen, no, desecrated. He ripped it from her grasp to take it for his own self-serving purposes. She could not retrieve it back as much as she wished she could. It was lost for all of time.

Chaining her extremities, he loved to torture his little angel. Despite violating every part of her, she still grasped onto some sort of innocence that drove him wild. Her doe eyes gazing into his sharp ones, silently pleading for mercy. He did not grant her this, but he had almost considered it a few times with the way she looked at him. It penetrated him with such intensity that he felt out of control. As much as he did not like that she had this effect on him, he was in wonderment how she could do that to him.

He enjoyed testing her when he could. To see if given any opportunity, would she run? Would she be so ignorant and attempt to leave this sanctuary? But each time he tested her, she did not make an effort to escape. In fact, she seemed to ignore his tests. As if the mere thoughts of escaping would result in a punishment from him.

Today was another day of work, but this time she accompanied him. He was busy doing repairs and wanted his angel close by. Sometimes he missed her presence, so he let her have a break from her prison. She seemed to have taken pleasure in spending time with him. At least she was coming around, that was a win in Johnny’s book.

“Give me the allen wrench.” he said while holding his hand out. She obliged, grabbing the correct tool. She learned over time which one was which, as well as previous knowledge from helping her own father with car repairs.

“Good girl.” he smirked as he took the tool from her. Blushing slightly, she glanced down at the dirt pathway underneath her shoes. Some days when he was “nice”, it made her forget all the horrific pain he inflicted on her. Maybe he could change, maybe this could be their normal. But she was reminded of how naive she was when he devoured her again. It was a cycle she could not break for the life of her.

“Flat head.” He intercepted her thoughts and caught her off guard for a moment, but she handed him another tool once again. “What’s on ya’ mind, sweet pea?”

“Nothing.” she replied as she dug her toe into the ground.

“Ya’ sure?” he asked as he took a small look at her. She nodded her head, and he resumed his work again. No sense in asking a thousand times if she did not feel like talking about it. But he was curious to know, he wanted to know what went on inside of that noggin of hers. What she thought about him. He wanted to crack her head open and examine her brain. The inner workings of her organ. But Johnny was no scientist, and he knew that once he got it open, there would be no way to close it.

Footsteps approached them. Looking up, Johnny sighed. “What is it, Sissy?”

Sissy smiled at the girl as she stood in front of the couple. “Cook called, said he’s got some meat that’s comin’ down over here. He said ta’ get ready.”

“Yeah!” Johnny exclaimed with a smirk. “Been wantin’ to kill lately, just haven’t been able to do it.”

“Well now ya’ can, get ready.” Sissy said as she walked back to the house.

She felt cold chills infiltrate her body. Something seemed… off. There was something that was bugging her about this hunt, and she had never felt this way before about one.

“Darlin’, ya’ really gonna’ annoy me if ya’ keep ignorin’ me.” Johnny stated as he grabbed her face between his scarred gloveless hand. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, hmm?”

Chewing on her lower lip, she sighed quietly. “Something seems weird. I don’t know, I don’t have a good feeling.”

He tilted his head at her. “Whatcha’ thinkin’?”

“I just feel like.. this next group is going to be bad. I don’t know why or how, but I just have a bad feeling about them.” she frowned.

Johnny nodded his head and gently grabbed her face. “Might just be paranoid darlin’. Nothin’ will happen, ya’ got that?” She looked at him with worried eyes, and he sighed. “Listen, ya’ have me here to protect ya’-”

“No Johnny,” she interrupted, catching the young man off guard. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s you.”

He scoffed. “I can handle myself darlin’. Besides, I’ve never had any slip ups, so don’t ya’ worry about it now. It ain’t a big deal.”

It was not enough to calm her nerves. Her anxiety ate away at her stomach, and she felt like this was a warning. Something bad was going to happen, she was very sure of it. But Johnny did not believe her. He was too cocky, too arrogant to believe that anything could happen to him. For all he could knew, he could not get hurt and he was practically untouchable. He didn’t need to take extra precautions, he was lethal as is.

To keep his angel safe from the prying eyes of mankind, he led her back to his shack at the Slaughter’s house. It was there that she was safest. He did not have to worry about her escaping or interacting with “guests”.

“Now just stay in here until I get back, alright?” he said as he stood in the doorway. “I’ll be back in one piece, I promise ya’.”

She nodded, frowning slightly as she did. She was still stressed. She had never had this feeling before when it was time for a hunt, so this was all brand new.

“When I make promises, I keep ‘em. Don’t worry now sunshine. Get some rest.” And he waved goodbye, slamming the door shut and locking it with his key.

There was not much to do when Johnny Slaughter was preparing and involved in a hunt. Sometimes he would be gone the whole night, sometimes he would be back rather quickly, it depended on a lot of factors. She hoped that it would be a quick hunt to prove her anxieties wrong, but it did not seem like one of those quick hunts. She just hoped for the best, that Johnny came back to her with very little wounds and a big, evil grin on his face. A happy yet murderous Johnny was much better than a pissed off, murderous Johnny.

The sun began to dip down into the horizon line, the light turning orange as it shone inside the wood board cracks of the shack. Johnny’s little angel began to drift off to sleep, laying on the dirty mattress with a blanket wrapped around her frame. She curled into a small ball and tried to fight her sleepiness off, but sleep seemed to have won the fight. She was never a good fighter of many things.

A reverberating howl echoed around her, waking her from her dreamless state. She shot up from her previous position, eyes wide and darting around the small shack. The sun had settled and the moon rose high above the Sawyers. With labored breathing, she risen from the mattress carefully to move towards the door. She knew it was locked, but it was best to check. Sometimes you never knew what fate would throw at you.

Jiggling the handle, she was surprised to see it popped open. Her blood ran cold, it meant that whoever awoke her from her slumber was the one who unlocked the shack. And no one else made an effort to lock it back up. There was a very heated debate inside of her head. Was it best to leave the shack? Was it best to find Johnny? What if she stayed put and put herself in more danger by almost being found? Was she better off laying in the bushes and dirt away from the bloodshed? So many questions, so many possibilities, so many pathways she could take, but she did not know which one to pick. She hadn’t have any decision left up to her for a very long time. Not since Johnny came into her life.

She pushed the door open quietly and peeked her head out to see if there was anyone nearby. It was very dark outside and she could barely make out the Slaughters’ trees and sheds. The only thing that gave light was the moon. Using this to the best of her abilities, she crept forward towards the edge of the forest. She was not sure if it was a good idea to find Johnny or any other family member in case they mistook her for a victim, and she did not exactly want to be slaughtered now. It was best to lie low and hope for the best.

Every sound unsettled her as she reached the forest brush. She swiveled her head around to make sure no one else saw her, but her paranoia was not eased. As she settled into the dirt, she saw Johnny racing across the yard chasing a victim. The girl cringed as she was reminded of her time with Johnny. How he chased her down, laughing and spitting insults at her. How he was going to slaughter her like a lamb. Yet here she was, still alive. Guess he never kept up his side.

She watched as Johnny laughed at the victim, a young woman, and remarked how she thought she escaped so easily. He threw himself onto her, glaring down with a sinister grin on his face as the hunting knife in his right hand settled into her intestines. The woman screamed, echoing back to Johnny’s angel in the bushes who covered her ears. She could hardly take her eyes off of them, it was a deplorable yet beautiful sight to see Johnny in his element. His biceps glistened with sweat and his slicked hair was a little messy from running. He stabbed into the woman’s body again while holding her by the throat. It felt forbidden to watch this unfold, like a horrible car accident, yet there was no way to take your eyes off of it. Johnny’s body was slathered in crimson from the woman who had gone limp. Lifeless.

The eyes of his angel watered but her sight did not waver as Johnny got to his feet and began to look around once more for another. She heard Bubba’s chainsaw from the house, but there were no shouts of pain. Must be trying to scare them out.

She remembered when Bubba tried this tactic on her before and indeed did it scare her. She practically peed herself when she heard the revving of the chainsaw a few feet away from her hiding spot. She hoped and prayed that he did not find her, and God must have answered her prayers because Bubba did not. Instead, Johnny found her. If that was any better. At least Bubba would have ended her suffering.

Her hair stood on end as another person came into her view. It was a man, not one she had seen before, sitting over the sight of the young woman and weeping. His panicked cries stabbed into her heart. She must have been his girlfriend. And now she was going to end up as a Slaughter meal. It was quite sad how everyone who crossed paths with the Slaughters lost their lives with the only exception of her. She wondered why too. There was never a straightforward answer to that question, but it guilted her.

Johnny made his rounds back as he spotted the man kneeling over the woman he murdered. He grinned, approaching him which his hunting knife ready to sink into the man’s body. But Johnny must have been blinded by his blood lust, the man turned around rather quickly and tackled Johnny’s legs, shoving the young man to the ground. It was a tussle between them. Johnny’s knife was thrown to the side when he fell down which meant all he had was his fists. His angel covered her mouth in fear, trying to quiet her whimpers as she watched the victim beat down Johnny. They were evenly matched. She heard their grunts from where she was laying at and her heart sank when she heard Johnny’s painful grunts. Her baby…

She knew she stood no chance against a man, and she also knew Johnny would tell her to stay out of it. It was between men, something she should keep her nose out of. But she could not sit and watch as Johnny got hurt. It hurt her to see this. But she continued to watch, until her heart plunged further.

“Leland! I got the gun!” said another woman as she sprinted towards the man beating Johnny into the ground.

“These fuckin’ freaks are done for.” he panted as he wrestled with Johnny more. The Slaughter boy was not going down so easily.

“I’d like to see ya’ try an’ use that, ya’ idiots!” Johnny said as he reached for his fallen knife and swung it at Leland. Blood trickled down his arm as Leland grabbed Johnny’s arm, trying to pry the knife out of his gloved hand. Johnny gritted his teeth as Leland elbowed him in the face, smearing more of his blood across his face as his nose trickled like a water spout. It was damned to hurt.

The woman fumbled with the shotgun. Almost as if she was possessed, Y/N rose from her spot. She sneakily maneuvered her way towards them as they were in their own worlds. They did not notice her, and neither did the woman when she attacked her. They both went down together, tussling like the boys were still in the middle of.

“What the fuck?” the girl stuttered out.

The gun had landed somewhere next to them, but it was only a matter of who could get there first. Y/N punched the other woman in the face while the other girl tugged at her hair. Sinking her teeth into the unknown woman’s arm, she let go of her hair for a second which gave her an opportunity to lunge for the gun. Grabbing it, she held out the end of the shotgun out far as she whipped her body around, ramming it into the woman’s face. There was a loud crunch that signified a broken nose and maybe even a few other bones as the girl fell to the ground. Out like a light.

Johnny was on top of Leland still attempting to put him down. But Johnny was overpowered, something that had never happened before in the years of Johnny’s hunting. Leland held his hunting knife, his own weapon, and drove it into Johnny’s gut. Johnny wheezed as Leland jammed it hard, jaw clenched and his eyes burning with anger.

“This is for Ana!” Leland screamed as he slid the knife back inside Johnny’s stomach again. Johnny tasted the iron in his mouth, trying to bite it back as he stared at Leland.

“This is for Connie!” Another one. Johnny felt his vision blacken more.

“Hey motherfucker,” Heaven’s angel answered his call. “Only I get to decide when he dies.”

The trigger was pulled and it was in a sudden second where brain matter scattered across the Sawyer’s yard. His head caved in, squirting blood feverously as his body stuttered to plop onto the ground. Ears ringing, Johnny glanced at his savior and let out a small breath.

“Sweet pea.” he groaned out as he slightly smiled. Blood pooled from his wounds. “Am I glad to see ya’.”

Quickly, she kneeled down next to him and gently took his head between her hands. “Oh Johnny!”

“I’ll be okay.” he said as he blinked slowly.

His hearing was dipping out as he could barely hear her call for his family. These victims really did some damage to him. Now, he was not so sure if he could make it or not.

“Johnny, Johnny stay with me.” His sweet angel tried to keep him busy. “Come on, it’ll be okay.”

He chuckled, wincing from his wounds. “Maybe so, huh?” Soft hazel eyes studied her face. “Ya’ are my favorite, ya’ know that?”

She smiled, tears forming along those pretty eyes he loved to look into. “I’m happy to hear that. It will be okay.” She took his hand into hers.

He smiled back. “I missed ya’.”

“I missed ya’ more.” She said as her tear drops rained upon his face. Shakily, his hand wiped at her tear-stained cheeks. She hunched over him and gently kissed him, tasting blood as she did so.

But just as fast as her life turned upside down, they were interrupted when the gun hooked around her neck. Being forced back, she choked as Julie laughed. “Sorry to interrupt your little reunion. This is for killing all of my damn friends. Now you’ll know how it is to lose someone you love.”

Johnny eyed her maliciously as he cursed his condition. “Don’t ya’ fuckin’ dare.”

“I’ll blow her brains out like she did Leland’s.” she replied, digging the gun more into the girl’s trachea. She gasped, her lungs squeezing as they searched for the air it could not reach.

But the pressure was suddenly taken off as blood coated her. The woman’s throat was slit hastily and Sissy threw her to the ground. “That ain’t happenin’.”

She looked at Johnny and her eyes widened. “Bubba! Johnny’s hurt real bad!”

All of the Sawyer family appeared as Bubba tossed his chainsaw to the side and moved towards Johnny. Johnny’s angel coughed as she rubbed her throat, looking at her captor as he paled more and more by the minutes passing. Bubba picked him up which caused Johnny to grunt in pain. His eyes were barely open.

Everything was quite hazy. Drayton cleared the table off completely as they settled Johnny onto it, getting to work straight away. The Slaughter boy slipped in and out of consciousness, hardly feeling the needles stab into his skin as Nubbins, Sissy, and Bubba stitched his cuts and gaping knife wounds closed. They worked diligently and quietly, only talking when asking for things such as more thread, washcloths, or alcohol to clean. Drayton, Chop Top, and Johnny’s lover gave them what they needed. His angel sniffled, watching as more blood seeped onto the table.

“H-he just won’t stop bleedin’!” Nubbins whined.

“Just keep applyin’ pressure and stitchin’.” Sissy replied. “We can’t let him…” she choked back on her words as she looked back down.

“Damn kids!” Drayton complained as he rubbed his temples. “I swear to God if anythin’ happens to that kid, I don’t even know what I’m goin’ to do.”

“L-lets just h-hope for the best.” Chop Top said while he handed Bubba more thread. “He’s a strong kid, b-built like an o-ox. I’m sure he w-will g-get through it.”

Y/N chewed on her lip. She hoped Johnny prevailed. She did when he hurt her, whether it was mutilating her, taking advantage of her, or even abusing her. She still stuck around despite the emotional trauma and abuse he caused her. Yet here he was, lying on the table as he slowly lost his life.

She wondered if it would have been different had she pulled the gun on Johnny. She could have escaped with those victims had she shot him. Shot him just like she did Leland. Right in the skull with his brain exposed for all of the angels above to witness. Yet, she did not. She turned the gun around on the innocent who were only fighting for their own lives.

Was she just as bad as the Sawyers? Murdering another to save someone who raped and inflicted pain whenever he felt like it. Did she even deserve a place in Heaven for all that she had committed tonight? She knew she did not. She was corrupted. No angels had a place in Heaven after they soaked the ground with an innocent’s blood.

As she pondered on her thoughts, the Sawyers completed their art. Johnny was a bloody, morbidly beautiful sight. His body barely moved as he breathed.

“Alright Bubba,” Sissy said quietly. “Go and take ’im to the spare bedroom.” She looked at Johnny’s lover. “Ya’ go with too. He’s goin’ to need company when he wakes up.”

She nodded, trailing behind Bubba as he carried her sweet captor up the creaky stairs and into the spare bedroom that rarely anyone touched. It was a bit dusty, but more comfortable than the shack she had been staying in. Bubba gently placed Johnny on the bed and motioned for you to come over to the bed. Plopping down softly, Bubba hugged her tightly. Almost to comfort her and himself. And she hugged him back. She felt all of the pain from tonight hit her all at once.

Bubba shuffled out of the room after their bonding experience, closing the door on the way out. She caught another glimpse of Johnny’s pallid skin. She wondered why she felt so strongly towards her captor. He killed many, including her own friends, yet here she was lying in bed with him while he made small noises of agony. Why did she feel so distressed about his current state? This was what he deserved for all of those women and men he butchered. There was no doubt about it. But she felt sympathy for her Devil.

“Ya’ like my true angel.” he mustered out as his eyes slightly opened. “Watchin’ me like an angel watches over people.”

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips as she held his scarred hand between her own. “Anything for you, Johnny.”

He smiled, a lighthearted yet weak smile. “I don’t know what I would do without my angel.”

Squeezing her hand, he fluttered his eyes shut again. Moments like these reeled her back into his grasp. She hated him, yet she could not help but love him. Love him despite all he had done to her. Love him despite robbing her of her innocence. He consumed it like ichor. She could not bring herself to kill him, it would only cause misery for her heart. She loved Johnny, whether it was out of fear or true love, she did not know, but it did not change the fact she loved the killer who inflicted torment on those who stumbled across the Sawyer’s home.

Johnny was the ‘sorry’ soul who received what he had coming to him. He slipped up, made a mistake, and it costed him a lot. The traumatic stab wounds to his gut left deep, pink silvery scars on his skin. It took months to heal, and sometimes he feels the pains of his victim stabbing into him. He was not paranoid of getting hurt again, but he knew if he made the same mistake again, it would cost him his life. His nose was bent at a slight awkward shape from the fist fight.

He realized something important, and although he hated to admit it, his little angel was right. She was right all along, somehow she knew. Maybe she was Johnny’s guardian angel sent from Heaven. Yet, he still infected her being with his repulsive sinful actions. Sinking his teeth into her flesh. Never letting go. He was thankful for his life being saved by her, but he did not want her to think she could leave him.

It was a sunny Texas day with a small gentle breeze that slowly lapped at her sundress as her and Johnny lingered over a quilt.

“I forgot to ask ya’ this.” Johnny said after a long while of silence. She hummed in response. “Where did ya’ learn how to use a gun?”

Her heart squeezed at the thought of those events that night. “My Daddy taught me how. Sometimes he took me hunting, or he would let me shoot some rounds at bottles. Just for practice.”

Johnny chuckled. “Never saw ya’ as a hunting kind of gal.”

She shrugged. “It’s never often that I really do it.”

Silence again. It was a comfortable silence that was cherished between the two of them. Johnny sighed quietly as he turned his head to look at the girl nestled between his arms. “Don’t know what I would do without ya’.”

“Probably would be lying in a grave somewhere.” she joked. Johnny giggled and pinched her. Her words were true, he did not want to admit that though.

“Like I said, yer’ my little angel.”

[rosie-b]

Centuries Overdue

Chapter 7

Gimmi spread out their hands in a grand gesture and stared down at Adrien and Marinette, their gaze somehow threatening, uncaring, and merciful at the same time.

“I don’t understand,” Adrien said in frustration. “You cannot be a kwami. Tikki and Plagg are the eldest kwamis, and the others are all known to the Mages! Who are you?”

“I am Gimmi, kwami of reality,” the being said smoothly. “But I am not surprised that you don’t believe me. Unfortunate as it is, humans and I went down separate paths long ago, and their memories of me have faded. They forgot to be grateful for my Gifts and shoved them back in my face, so I withdrew from them. Who else do you think gave you magic, little Mages? Who first bonded humans and kwamis? Who let mortals see through the veil separating our worlds? It was me. And I have come to regret it.”

Marinette swallowed hard. “You gave humans magic? But I thought each kwami gave their Mages a Gift! Right, Adrien?”

Adrien was frozen, looking ahead at the spectral figure of his parents. After a moment, his gaze slid back to Gimmi, then to her.

“No one knows who gave the Talents their ability,” he said. “No one knows when the first Gift was given, or why. There is much we do not know. And this power we've seen is beyond that of any mortal." His gaze turned accusing as it returned to Gimmi. “You’re the one who caused the Darkness, aren't you? Your being a kwami explains how you survived the great battle. You are the reason so many Talents disappeared and so many died. You plunged the world into chaos, and when we found out, you pretended to die so that we’d stop looking for you.” He looked defiantly at Gimmi, who simply nodded. Adrien's face twisted into an ugly, pained mask as he spat out his question. “Why?”

Gimmi hummed and folded two of their hands together. “Because I regret giving my Gifts, little Mage. I shall explain why before I decide your fate, since you have nowhere to run and I want you to understand why you are here before me.

“I am more powerful than the other kwamis, with far more to offer humanity. Therefore, when I established the bond between kwamis and humans, I promised more than one Gift. The first was that anyone who learned how to summon me would be granted a Wish, one so powerful that nothing could limit what it could do. The second Gift was given when I created the Talents to protect and guide the Mages. It had became clear that the Ungifted humans were jealous of those with Gifts, so through my Gift, I helped Mages keep magic a secret from those who posed a risk to them. For a while, it went well, but the humans are always greedy. They realized that I could give them everything they wanted, and they thought nothing of the cost; and the Universe must always be balanced, so there must always be a cost for a Wish.

"The clouds used to be gorgeous, do you know that? They used to be so full of color; their appearance brought joy to every corner of the world. But, you see, the nobles wanted to have pretty clothes, prettier than anyone else's. They were lazy, and eventually, instead of waiting for others to make him dye or working to make his own, one particularly canny ruler made a Wish. In making it, he stole the color from the clouds. Are you beginning to understand, little Mages?”

“Do I understand why you murdered hundreds of people, including my parents? And me? From a story about wishes!? What do you think,” Adrien hissed.

Gimmi shrugged their shoulders. “Fine, I will keep going. You understand that there is no escape for you now, but I want you to understand the full weight of your crimes before I punish you for them."

Oh, great. The giant, glowy kwami is going to lecture us before we get turned into faceless monsters. How exciting, Marinette thought drily.

"I was abused for centuries through humans' misuse and hatred," Gimmi continued. "To save myself, I withdrew into this realm. Humans mostly forgot I existed; and since my Gifted humans lacked the flashy powers you Mages have, they were overlooked, and their Gift-Giver was forgotten. Even my title was forgotten, along with my people,” Gimmi said mournfully. “Then, word got out to the Ungifted of a being whose magic could grant them any wish they wanted. And they cursed me for not using my great powers to give them all easy lives. 

“They blamed me for their deaths, for their illnesses, for every little thing, from ‘bad luck’ to the plague. I remained here to make them forget me, preferring isolation and anonymity to such unwarranted hate. I asked my fellow kwamis not to speak my name to humans, and though they respected my request, the humans resisted. They had tasted magic’s power, and they were able to remember, every so often, the tales about me. Then they would fight each other, bringing senseless murders to the land, until finally a victor would claim my power, and I would be helpless against them because of my thoughtless Gift. I would be forced to grant them a Wish, right before I was dismissed and forgotten again. There were never any negotiations, never any respect for me or my Talents, only blame and scorn from mortals who thought themselves above me, only ‘Gimme, Gimmi, gimme!’ before they chose to forget me again.”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme? You know, Abba has a song called that,” Marinette joked, desperately trying to make herself feel something other than dread, because this was a joke, and jokes were funny, right? So everyone should calm down now, right?

She instantly regretted opening her mouth.

Gimmi began to glow brighter with rage. “No! Even now, Mage, you still disrespect me! How dare you!”

Adrien stepped in front of Marinette, blocking her from Gimmi's view. “She meant no harm! In any case, Gimmi, if your Gift makes you so beholden to humans, then why not just renounce it if that’s all you’re mad about?”

Gimmi scowled at him. “My Gifts are eternal, little Mage. They cannot be renounced.”

“Then, aren’t you afraid that we’ll use it against you while we're here?” he asked innocently.

Marinette gaped at him. “Adrien, I don’t think making them mad—”

“I’m sure I would, if either of you could remember the tales of how to summon me and had done so. But as it is, I am the one who summoned myself, and so my powers are not yours to take. You can’t make the Wish, even if you knew how to. And, if you'd let me keep speaking, you would know by now that I am making sure no one can ever make a Wish again! It is only because humans have magic that they are able to remember me, however sporadically, and while my brethren continue to give their Gifts and create new Mages, I have long ago ceased to give out mine. After the last Wish was made, I stopped creating Talents and, since I could not take back what I had given, I took the existing Talents back into me, instead. I kept them safe in the ocean of my magic, far away from the world that would teach them to abuse their power. And here, they will remain. I saved them, you know," Gimmi said proudly.

In front of Marinette, Adrien was shaking so violently she could hear his teeth rattling.

“That’s what you call saving them?” His voice trembled with rage. “I watched my parents drown when I was just a child. Every one of my friends has lost someone, and it was not because of humans’ war, but because you decided to ‘save’ them. And so, these are your Talents? These unliving, undead zombies, these monsters? What about the ones made of Darkness? Who were they?”

Gimmi huffed. “They were Mages. I corrupted their magic and turned it against them, because they had used it against me. They didn’t deserve it, so I gave the spark of their Gifts to my Talents instead.”

“That's completely unjustifiable, and sickening,” Marinette spat out. “You sent out your zombies to attack my friend, and she’s never hurt anyone in her life, much less attacked you! You can’t explain away doing that, or what you’ve done to the very same people that you gave your Gifts to. You didn't save them, you killed them! You can't offer any excuses for this mess.”

“Can’t I, little Mage? You humans’ disrespect didn’t end with Wishes. Did you know that every other kwami has a place to call theirs on Earth? A castle, a lake, a mountain cave. I was never given anything! No one has ever cared about me, little Mages. Not even when I gave them still another Gift, one better than any I had given before.”

“First of all, that's not an excuse. Second, you’re not talking about Universal Spells, are you? Because I thought those were taken away.”

“They were,” Gimmi said, sounding satisfied. “I learned from my mistakes and built in a failsafe to the new Gift. When the Mages didn't change their ways, I was forced to use it. Once the treacherous Mages were fooled into thinking themselves safe, I removed my Gift, and they were never any wiser. And they still never thanked me.”

“We didn’t know it was you who gave the Gift,” Adrien said, holding out his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “So, you’re mad that we didn’t recognize you? You, who pulled back from our world on purpose and forced the other kwamis to keep silent about you? How exactly were we supposed to know anything about you?”

“Everyone knows,” Gimmi hissed, narrowing their eyes. “Everyone knew. I am the presence you humans always seek, though you give me new names all the time. Call it magic, call it gods, call it spirits, look for lines in the Earth, in the stars. But it’s me that you’re looking for. If there is a source to the Universe, it is me. My power is too much for your human world, but I’ve stayed with you anyway.”

“How?” Adrien challenged. “How, aside from the Darkness corrupting your own Gifted? Even if you once gave your Gifts with good intentions and trust, those feelings have faded. What did you leave in their stead?”

“I am more than I seem,” Gimmi said plainly. “I found a solution that even my own halves do not fully understand. Only when we’re together is the truth clear.”

“Your two halves?” Marinette asked. A pit was forming in her stomach. “Do we know them?”

“Yes, or Adrien did, at lease. They are Tikki and Plagg,” Gimmi confirmed. “We are separate beings, and yet we are one; two halves of a whole. Didn’t you ever wonder where Plagg went on his voyages, Adrien? Even he doesn’t know, not fully.

"When they’re apart, my two halves are weak. They love humans as I once did; they forget the pain I remember. The two worlds separate our memories, though they know of me, and I of them. They know that the humans can use them if they are summoned together; they know they are capable of granting Wishes, but they do not know how. And Plagg trained you,” Gimmi said, leveling their gaze at Adrien, “Personally. I know they suspect my actions. That is why I moved quickly, but in doing so, I drew the Mages’ attention.”

“And now, what are you trying to do?” Marinette asked. “Why are you still attacking us? From what you’ve told us, the humans who abused your powers are all long dead, and the rest of our ‘disrespect,’ as you called it, is really just your fault. If you never show us who you are, we can’t be expected to know about you or give you a temple, if that’s what you want.To fix the problem, kwami up and show them your face, dipshit! Then you can have your precious temple.”

“Not a temple,” Gimmi hissed. They beat their wings, and a wave of light rushed towards Marinette. Adrien pulled her toward him, to the side of the blast, and it passed by them.

“Just tell us what you want!” he cried out. “Stop toying with us; you said at the beginning that you wanted us to yield to you and recognize our crimes. Well, if this is your show of power, it isn’t working. We will never yield, not when all we’ve done is defend ourselves; we have no crimes. From my point of view, you’re the villain here!”

Gimmi growled, but Adrien stood his ground, glaring menacingly at the towering kwami.

“If you’re not a villain, then prove it otherwise,” Marinette managed to say in support of Adrien. She held his hand tightly, facing the kwami bravely though tremors shook her body. “What is it that you want? Why are you still trying to kill Mages? The other kwamis will keep giving their Gifts even if you don't, you know. Our knowledge of magic can’t be taken back. Undoing the past is impossible; you should know that!”

“I’m not killing them,” Gimmi raged, “You did! You and Plagg’s kitten, you killed them all! Every last Mage I sent against you, to make you surrender. All I wanted was respect!”

“Are you sure about that?” Marinette challenged. “Figures made of shadow, without thought, without control of themselves; is that how you see humans? Did the Mages seem normal to you in their corrupted forms?”

Gimmi slowly shook their head. 

“Could you return the Mages to how they used to be, then? If not, then you are the one who killed them, a long time ago. Even if you preserved them somehow, snatched their souls at the brink of death and kept them hostage, those poor Mages were long gone. And your Talents,” she said sadly, looking at the circle of emotionless zombies, like statues. “You didn’t take back your Gift, but you killed them instead by stealing them from their home world. Is that fair?”

Gimmi seemed upset. “How dare you! I never—”

“Why don’t you use your omnipotence, then, and check for yourself?” Adrien asked. “You control reality itself. When’s the last time you saw it for what it was, unclouded by your rage?”

Gimmi hesitated. “It will make no difference,” they said. “None at all, if I check. All it will do is prove that I’m right.”

“Then you risk nothing by taking Adrien’s advice,” Marinette said, confidence filling her voice. She looked at Adrien and smiled.

Gimmi’s light flared out, and their eyes closed. For several moments, they remained like that, and the circle of once-Talents watched on in silence with the two Mages.

For minutes, maybe hours, it was quiet. Marinette tried to count time by her breaths, but her mind screamed fears at her and made her lose count. Adrien held her hand still, grounding her, and she steadied herself as she waited for Gimmi to come back. Would they see that they were wrong? Would they only look for evidence that they were right? Were they even taking her idea, at all?

Marinette could only hope for the best answer as time kept passing her by.

Then Gimmi opened their eyes.

Adrien took a sharp breath, and this time it was Marinette's turn to squeeze his hand and offer him a small comfort.

Gimmi looked at them.

“Little Mages,” they said. “I have spent eons watching humanity. And now, I have just watched it all again, because of you.

"It is a heartbreaking thing, to see so much tragedy, so much of it self-inflicted. I hate to see so many Mages turn on their own; so many Talents lead others astray; so many people made desperate enough to go looking for Wishes.”

Marinette flinched, but Adrien stood steady beside her, lending her strength with his quiet presence.

“I have decided,” Gimmi said. “And I have realized that perhaps humanity has poisoned me. Kwamis are not usually emotional, you see. I was not made to feel things as you do. But now I see that maybe…” Gimmi sighed and rested their head on two of their hands.

“We were right, weren’t we,” Adrien stated. “You let yourself get carried away by anger and didn’t stop to think about it.”

Gimmi glared. “It’s all your fault,” they huffed. “I didn’t want to care about humans! Mortals die so quickly, you know, it’s not even worth getting attached. That’s why I hid myself, unlike the others. They were braver than I was. But I still craved your affections, your attention. I was jealous of the devotion the other kwamis got, even of the love Tikki and Plagg were shown. I was hurt by the way humans used me, but I failed to see how badly they themselves were hurting. I can’t fix that, by the way. Mortals are doomed to know sadness and death. But I tried to show them love and happiness too, you know? I did try! But... you were right,” they choked out. “I got angry, and I…”

“It’s okay to be angry sometimes,” Marinette said. “I understand being hurt. I know what it’s like to be overlooked. I feel alone, too. I didn’t make it any easier for myself, choosing the career path I did! But you have to reach out. Staying in touch with Alya kept me sane, and eventually, she introduced me to more friends. I started feeling a lot happier, even more loved. In our lives, eventually, the hurt is outweighed by joy and love. But you have to take a chance on being known first.”

“And you have to own up to your mistakes,” Adrien added firmly. 

Gimmi’s eyes trailed over to the circle of Talents.

They closed their teal eyes and sighed sadly. “I don’t know if I can ever make up for them. It took me quite a few centuries of rewatching humans before I was able to begin admitting the truth of what I’d done. Even now, it’s hard to think about, and for me, a long time indeed has passed since then. I feel regret, nonetheless.”

“Because you do care about us, don't you?”

Gimmi opened their eyes and looked at Marinette. “Yes,” they said slowly. “I was wrong to hide away from you; to trust that you’d just know I was there. I see now that in doing so, I only hurt myself more, and blamed humans for it. And then I passed that hurt on to the ones I love most.”

“The Talents,” Adrien said sadly. "My parents."

Gimmi nodded. “Yes. But you, as well. Tikki and Plagg don’t choose just anyone to bless with their Gifts. Their love is my own, and they love you two very much.”

Adrien sniffed. Marinette decided that she never wanted to see Adrien Agreste so sad again, and pulled him into a hug, shooting Gimmi a dubious look as she did.

Gimmi sighed. “I am sorry, little Mages. My overreaction caused more pain than I ever thought it might. And I know you don’t forgive me, and that I deserve that.” As they spoke, their double voice, strong as it was, trembled ever-so-slightly. It was almost imperceptible, but Marinette still noticed it as she released Adrien from her embrace.

“You’re still afraid,” she realized. “Of what?”

“The Wish,” Gimmi hissed. “It’s never once been used for good. Or if it was, it backfired later; the cost is always more than humans realize, and their Wishes are too often sloppily made. I’m afraid that even if I let the others know of my existence, it will be used improperly again. I am also afraid of being reduced to a genie; I do not wish to be a toy, to be used and cast aside every millenia.”

Marinette thought hard, trying to find what to say. Gimmi's was a valid concern, after all; being recognized only for what someone can offer is a horrible fate, far from love.

"Are you really sorry for what you've done?" she asked eventually.

"You should know by now that you ought to be," Adrien muttered from beside her.

Gimmi's light seemed to dim for a moment. "Yes," they said, and the heaviness of the statement seemed to fill the air and press down upon them.

“Then, I can't speak for Adrien, but I may be able to forgive you, in time, if you help us now. In return, we'll help you; I might have an idea, to solve that Wish problem," Marinette said. “But you’ll have to tell me if it will work or not.”

Gimmi squinted. “Tikki’s Mages are always creative,” they said. “Their ideas are usually sound. I will listen to what you have to say.”

“Great!" Marinette fought the urge to dance around in joy. She wasn't sure this would work, but she was making progress! "Could we wish away wishes? Like, you would tell one of us how to make one, and we would Wish away your Gift. Of Wishes. So no one could make any, ever again.”

Gimmi made a surprised sound and straightened up as they looked down at Marinette. “There is always a balance, little Mage. Did I not tell you that? If you make beans red, strawberries turn green. If you take away a Gift—”

“Another takes its place,” Adrien continued. “Very clever, Marinette!”

Gimmi frowned. “How would I know I can trust you? And what Gift would replace Wishes? This seems an awful lot like a trick; you must know that.”

“It's not, I promise! Look, we'll let you have the final word here, but you took away a Gift in the past, didn't you?” Marinette asked. “I guess you didn’t take away Talents’ existence entirely—”

“I haven’t made any in centuries, but you’re right,” Gimmi interrupted. “That Gift is really made of many. Each Talent holds their own Gift; it isn’t one big Gift to humanity or else everyone would know about magic.”

“And you don’t want that, got it. But what about Universal Spells? Those were so helpful! Would you consider giving them back?” Marinette asked, trying her best to imitate the puppy eyes which children could use so effectively against her (so why shouldn't it work against Gimmi, too?).

Gimmi hummed. “I’m not doing this for free, little Mages. I realize now that withdrawing from the world was wrong. However, I also know that my presence in the human world was too strong. It caused an imbalance, in me and in your world, so it is better for me to remain split as Tikki and Plagg in that realm. I will remain here, but I want your word that you will write about me, like you did the other kwamis, Adrien. I know now that I want to be known, even just in Tikki and Plagg. Loneliness is not something any of us love, even kwamis. And I must remain in the kwamis’ ancient realm, the one from which your reality was formed. But perhaps you will visit me from time to time? The other kwamis, too. Tell them it’s been too long. We’ll figure the rest out from there.”

“I promise,” Marinette said. "If you help us with the Wish and let us go afterwards, you have a deal."

“And you?” Gimmi asked Adrien.

He crossed his arms and shot a frown up at Gimmi. “I have one more question before I will agree to any deal. Why have you not made your own Wish? That would have resolved the issue long ago, no?”

Gimmi tensed. “Even my own Wishes are not free from mistakes, little Mage. I made one once, and quickly realized it was a mistake. For me, to make a Wish is to abuse my own power. There is a balance, and by willfully changing the world, I broke that balance. It was only luck that one family’s memories did not affect the world as greatly as they otherwise might have; the universe itself must have wanted to protect humans from the worst of my Wish.”

“And exactly what was that Wish?” Adrien asked. His hand clenched into a fist, and Marinette saw him take a deep breath as he waited for Gimmi’s response.

“I will tell you on one of your visits later,” they said quietly (or as quietly as such a large kwami could). “I made it in the midst of my rage; it was not a wise decision. I was trying to prevent others from learning about magic. From reading your journals. And still, Marinette’s finding them proves that no Wish has ever been perfect, even mine.”

“Then why allow one to be made now? Is the world really that broken that you need it? Or are you just afraid to bear the burden of your own mistakes?”

Gimmi’s five eyes closed briefly. “My mistakes, unlike others’, affect the whole world, little Mage. And my actions have caused much damage to it. I have disrupted a delicate balance, enough that a Wish may be the only way to repair it. And somehow, despite my rashness, there may be enough balance in this Wish that it will really work. I have considered both sides of the Wish; we will neither be looking to gain only one thing or destroy another. We will be acting in pursuit of balance, accepting both sides of the Wish. If you follow my lead, little Mages, this Wish at last will be perfect.”

Adrien regarded Gimmi cautiously, as a man who has been burned before regards the candle he is handed. Then he relaxed, and the hand at his side unclenched. “You may not be Plagg, but I can see his honesty in you. I agree to the deal, Gimmi, as long as you allow Marinette to be the one who makes the Wish. There is too much of your war left in me for me to handle such a delicate thing as this, I fear.”

Gimmi nodded solemnly. “I am sorry for that, little Mage. The past cannot be erased, but I will do my best to ensure a better future for you. And know that in the modern age, you will find many who can help you on your way to healing. Do not turn them away.”

“Thank you,” Adrien murmured. He stepped back, looking at Marinette with a tight smile. “Your turn, milady.”

Marinette swallowed and stepped forward, looking up and up at the being she had thought of as a villain not long ago. Gimmi still had much to do to prove their sincerity and heal the world they had harmed; one Wish would not undo the damage they'd caused.

“This is only your first step, you know,” she warned. “Loneliness is no excuse for violence. Your isolation was your own choice; if you want to break out of it, you will have to step out of your hiding spot and be known.”

Gimmi met her gaze, unflinching. “I know, little Mage. And I swear, I will never allow myself to fall to the darkness again. Humans and their magic will be safe from my anger; I only ask that you do not allow me to be reduced to a means to an end again. My loneliness was not all my own fault.”

Gimmi reached out their hands, and Marinette took two of them; her hands were unable to wrap around even one of the kwami’s fingers. 

“Are you ready, little Mage?” Gimmi asked in a calm, soothing voice.

Marinette nodded, her expression determined and firm. 

Gimmi hummed, pleased. “Then we will begin with the summoning— it is not as complicated as I made it sound earlier. Repeat my words: Gimmi, reveal yourself!”

“Gimmi, reveal yourself,” Marinette said, and a wave of light went out from the kwami, though no other change occurred.

“I am here. What do you wish for, little Mage?”

If she concentrated, Marinette could feel Gimmi’s magic wrapping around her, giving her courage and placing the right words on her tongue. It would be so easy to give in to this magic, to fall into it and let it close around her like the waters of a vast ocean, but there was another force with her, supporting her and keeping her awake. Adrien. She took a deep breath and kept her eyes fixed on two of Gimmi’s.

“I wish that the GIft of Wishes will be removed from humanity from this moment on.”

A pleased smile appeared on Gimmi’s face, and the magic around her flared, filling her with warmth and purpose.

“Then for the price of this Wish, a Gift must be given to keep the balance. This Gift will be made irreversible, in the same way the Gift of Wishes was. What do you ask for, little Mage?”

This time, Marinette didn’t need the magic’s prompting. She knew just what to say. Still, she reached out, feeling the twin comfort of Gimmi and Adrien’s magic as it surrounded her.

“I ask for universal spells, which all Mages may use,” Marinette said confidently. A hopeful feeling filled her chest, and she watched for Gimmi’s reaction.

The smile gracing the kwami’s lips grew, and they nodded. “So be it, little Mage! You have your Wish. My halves will greet you after it has been established.”

As they were still talking, a blinding light and thunderous roar erupted from the place where Marinette’s hands touched Gimmi’s, drowning the last syllables out. The surge of power lasted for a long time, and she found herself reaching out for something other than the painful brightness and noise to feel. 

Adrien’s magic was still there, mixing with hers, and she instinctively grabbed onto it like a lifeline with her own. Soon, the roar faded away, and as she blinked the last of the light’s echo away, Marinette found that they were back in the catacombs. The magical realm where Gimmi had been was gone, and in its place, the stone walls of the tunnels stood. 

Marinette looked around, but she found no trace of the kwami or the zombies who had been trapped by their power. She looked around, and still couldn't see any— oh, no. Had the Wish undone the spell that had revived Adrien?

She turned to the place she'd last felt his magic from, and was overjoyed to find that he was still there, rubbing his eyes and grumbling about bright lights.

A little black cat was floating over his head.

Written for @mlbigbang

[peachymilkandcream]

Part two of that samurai au please

Thirty Pieces of Silver Part 2|Levi x Evelyn AU

(A/N: Hope you enjoy and thank you for the request!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, big age difference, kidnapping, slavery, violence, power imbalance, implied somnophilia, forced pregnancies, mind breaking, yandere behaviour, yandere themes, etc.

===============================================

Hell. That was the only way it was possible to describe life being bound to a man like Levi. A life of hell and torture. There was no other way around it, the women who often clamored on the outskirts of his estate had no idea what kind of man they were pining after. He was no soft and war-hardened dream man, he was a monster.

Evelyn was used to serving a master who beat and starved her on the regular. But still, he never touched her. She was permitted to remain pure and innocent for the sake of some purpose that had been unknown until now. She was sold out, sold like no more than some cattle. Her days of her palms raw from scrubbing floors were gone, but replaced with them were nights of waking nightmares.

She had some dignity in serving, at the end of the day she could lie on her mat and know that she had tried her best to please and be useful. In this there was nothing but shame and disgust.

Promoted from slave to concubine was supposed to be an honor, that she was now recognized as a partially human, not solely an object. But with the differences in her and Levi's class a novelty like rights was not granted to her. No one would condemn what Levi did, no one would come to save her. She was entirely on her own.

What was little more than a sack for her clothing was now replaced with fine linens. All in white or pink, one to signify purity and the other youth, life, and happiness. How much of a joke that was. She was none of those things. To further slip the painful knife in Levi had gifted her a comb with a lotus on it, as if a taunt of what she no longer was.

All her days were spent in his chambers, she was there to warm his bed and offer comfort. Nothing more. No purpose to be bred without mercy to gain the satisfaction of the man who owned her. There was nothing more to her life, but this.

How she wished for more.

The slamming of sliding doors announced the return of the house's lord. It would only be a matter of time before he would enter and claim what he believed was rightfully his.

Something she always dreaded, all her pleas and begging resulted in the bruises her carefully applied makeup sought to cover. It wouldn't do to be visible damaged, that always sent him into the most unpredictable rages. The last time she had appeared before him with bruises he gave her plenty more, the next day he had a lady come and teach her how to properly apply it.

Levi wanted his woman to be the picture of feminine grace and beauty, he wanted her to symbolize everything a man could desire from a woman. All for his inflated ego, to feel that he had the best of everything and others would think the same.

His entrance to the chambers started and ended the same, a command. Foul language. Pain, and then warmth. There was no change, no difference in anything. It would never change, he would never change.

She was a dead girl walking. But that would end soon enough.

==============================================

A sedative in his tea was all it took. Levi had trouble sleeping, so teas with calming properties always sent him into a mercifully peaceful slumber. Evelyn only needed to steal into the kitchen when she was granted the liberty of leaving his rooms to bathe. The tea ready, she just slipped more than enough into the pot so that he would hopefully sleep more deeply and longer than normal. She would have a chance. Evelyn never thought about escape before now, but such dire circumstances required action.

Without hesitation or sensing that anything was amiss Levi consumed that which was offered to him. Staring at his prize even while his eyelids drooped, never leaving her until the even sound of breathing reached her ears and signified his sleep.

Quietly, Evelyn gathered her warmest clothes, bundled them on and stole down the maple tree. Taking care to be as silent as possible. The household was asleep at this hour, but who knows who could be prowling the grounds for just such an occasion as this.

Once on the ground, Evelyn cast one last glance at the room where her captor slept, vowing to never go back so long as she lived.

With that, she fled into the night.

[prettyboykatsuki]

I love love love yandere tropes I will restrain myself to just one I prommy. Im feeling geto today. Geto & wisteria 💜

a /n ; hello miss aleks... thank u for requesting getou bc im insane abt him. a lot of requests for wisteria!! v interesting

cw ; yandere, captivitity, implied violence, reader talks about being hungry but it's largely metaphorical, gn!reader

W - Wisteria (long life, immortality): “Tell me I’m your god/goddess and I’ll grant you a slice of heaven.”

You're of the belief that your anger will someday mean something.

You hold onto this belief. You nurse it like a child that cries so loud it could shatter glass windows. More than anything, you want this anger festering inside of you to mean something. To be visible or potent. You hope with utmost sincerity that someday you will reveal it to someone and they will be the one to shrink back.

Getou is not above being cruel. He doesn't prefer it. The cruelty is not sadistic in nature - it's not something he draws pleasure from. Not usually. Not often enough for you to notice, though some times there's a gleam to him. A sharpness at the corners of his mouth when he twists your wrist just a little too hard that makes you wonder if you're missing something.

In all the ways Getou is cruel, it's not the violence nor hunger that makes you feel the most vulnerable. It's the indifference to your own humanity that you regard as most inhumane. It is the almost pitiful glare as you push towards him defiantly, unwilling to stand down.

Getou is authoritarian, but not pragmatic. This means, if you bare your teeth at him he will only go so far as muzzling you. Even if it's more practical to shave your fangs down to nubs - the practically of a tamed animal is not enough for Getou Suguru. He would rather you keep them sharp, keep them bared - and to teach you the same lesson until your exhausted. To beat it into you until your howl is faint in the wind.

Getou shows preference for taming. He does not punish your hostility with violence. It's never an eye for an eye. That would assume that you and him are equals and that could never be. There's no such reality where a human being could be equal to him. You can't see curses. You bruise easily. You shout and light your temper rise even easier.

The days pass by. Slowly like time is hesitant to widen the gaps of your sanity, though you know that is unavoidable. You hold on still. Your hands are holding on so tight to the thing within yourself that feels you're sure your knuckles are white.

And Getou remains. Still. Steady. Not omnipotent. Because even a foolish human like you can recognize that only old times Gods are capable of acting selfish.

The chain around your neck feels heavy when Getou enters your quarters. A place with no sunlight and no wind. Getou approaches you like always, a softened smile. Long hair that flows down his back, tied half-up.

He always walks towards you, but never crouches to your height. As if he's waiting for the day you come to him obediently. Crawl towards him on your hands and knees with nothing but desperation. It hasn't come yet.

But he feels merciful. So he bends down and comes towards you, reaching his hand onto to touch you. Your limbs are heavy from exhaustion. Nothing much of a fight today, as he reaches his hand to pet your cheek.

"Tired today, hm?" He asks. He's not smug about it. You almost wish he was.

"Fuck off."

"So cold to me. Such a shame. I really cherish you, you know? I don't do this for just anyone." He says, nauseatingly sincere.

"Is this your idea of being cherished? You're sick."

"Don't be silly. Of course it isn't. I'm disciplining you. Trying to help you understand."

Anger bubbles up within you again. If your throat wasn't so hoarse you would scream.

"Understand what exactly?"

"That you're doomed to this, but you don't have to be." He strokes your thumb with your cheek, growing close. His eyes are so dark you can see yourself in them. You don't recognize your reflection anymore "Tell me I'm your God. Mean it. And I'll grant you a slice of heaven. You'd be happy if you could listen."

"I'll never give in to you. Never." You say, all too bitterly. He gives you a fond laugh.

"I like that part of you too. It reminds me of someone."

[egginfroggin]

Hey who wants to see the first chapter of an old time loop submas fic I started back in 2022

Great, here you go:

(No warnings that I can think of; please inform me if I should tag or mark anything)

Celebi had been summoned many times in its long life, called to the Ilex Forest by countless people as Time dragged on and on in an endless march marked by monotone ticking. Whether or not those calls and summons were heeded was entirely up to Celebi itself, and what, precisely, motivated it to appear to one person over the next was known only to itself.

Perhaps it was a sense of mercy.

Perhaps it was curiosity.

Perhaps Celebi could see into the hearts of those who called for it and judged from there whether or not a person was worthy of a wish.

Perhaps it was none of these things, perhaps it was all of them, perhaps it was nothing at all.

Celebi hovered there in the Ilex Forest, crystalline wings fluttering on its back as it appeared in a flicker of light and a flurry of sparkles like the fairy it was. Power thrummed in the air around it as the tiny creature’s lips curled in an ever-present smile, eyes fluttering open to peer down at its summoner.

Goodness, it could see this man’s very soul, and what a sight it was – Time had not been kind to him at all, exacerbating the symptoms of heartbreak instead of healing them. Cracks ran through his very core, fissures of stress and anguish and desperation, and Celebi’s own heart throbbed for this poor man, sympathy running alongside curiosity and unnameable emotions as it looked over every tearstained bit of his flagging heart.

Celebi tilted its head, smiling patiently.

“What is your wish, human?”

He’d gone rigid with its appearance, disbelief and shock showing in his eyes like he hadn’t expected it to really appear. Celebi’s smile was reflected in a twisted manner on his face, more of a grimace, but at the sound of its bell-like voice asking for his request, the disbelief and tension melted away to make way for tentative euphoria. He choked in a gasp of air, tightly-clenched fists releasing for a moment, and he straightened his spine, lifting his chin despite the tremors Celebi saw rattling his form.

“I am Emmet,” he said, clear and monotone yet so very, very exhausted, “and I –”

He faltered for an instant, his voice hitching, and Celebi could feel, almost see his pain become tangible as feelings of pain, loss, need, separation shuddered through his soul.

“My brother and I have been decoupled,” he said, swallowing hard. “For a verrrrry long time.”

Years, he didn’t say, but Celebi knew nonetheless, years ago, five, almost six.

“I want him back.” His fists tightened, tight enough to draw blood if not for his gloves. “How things were before. I never wanted to lose him. I do not want to lose him. I do not want us to ever be separated again.”

Twins, the same age, together from conception, individuals but two sides of the same coin.

He licked his lips, drawing in a breath, silver eyes never leaving Celebi’s softly glowing form.

“I wish to never be separated from my brother ever again – for it to have never happened, and to never happen. That is my wish.”

Grant it, please, please have enough power, he didn’t say.

Celebi tilted its head the other way, wings fluttering softly, blue eyes wide and scouring.

After a moment, it blinked.

Then, Celebi smiled at the torn-up, determined man before it, inclining its head with a glint in its irises.

“As you wish, Emmet.”

Time ground to a halt, splitting, tearing, reversing, reforming – Dialga would have a fit at it later, for sure, but a wish was a wish, and Celebi had heeded this one – Time looped back on itself countless times over, veering around the will of Celebi and the will of fate itself.

Ilex Forest was washed in blinding, pure white light, and when it faded, only Celebi remained, hovering over the dish of offerings, a gentle, sad smile on its lips.

---------

Emmet felt the ground fall out from beneath his feet, the pull of gravity yanking him down as light flooded his vision, bright and all-consuming and blinding, searing his retinas with burning, cold white.

It faded into black, thick as tar yet easily breathable as he sank into it.

His fall slowed and up was down, left was right, light was shadow and cold was hot, everything reversed, its own inversion, and for a single, petrifying moment, his lungs seized as his head throbbed with enough pain that it felt like it would split open.

Emmet blinked, and a feeling of weightlessness came over him as a loud voice echoed in his ears, distracting him from the pain in his temples.

Train no. 1 will leave the station momentarily. Thank you for your continued patience.

“What?”

His own voice was clear as water, but staccato, a single burst of sound, unlike the ringing voice that surrounded him like an announcement over the P.A. system at Gear Station back home.

We will now be leaving the station. Best of luck on your travels. Have a good day.

Emmet once again fell, his yell of utter confusion left behind as he tumbled down, down, down, into the endless abyss as the announcement repeated itself one more time.

[sumeru-academy]

ECSTASY of Medusa

Lisa Minci x Reader

VOL 05 of Tragedies of Teyvat

⎯⎯mod chewie 🪑 

The cold stuck its ruthless chill to her, showing no regard to the way her muscles would contract underneath it. A claustrophobic panic seeped into her and she had no choice but to soak the anxiety like a sponge, she was trapped. Forced to slowly deteriorate and choke on her own breath, hearing her blood vessels explode.

Lisa’s body and mind jolted, reacting to the sudden rush of adrenaline made her lean upwards with a start. Nightmare. Her heart rate melodically slowed in her chest, she finally had the sensibility to recognize the familiar scene of her bedroom. Along with the sweetness of her beloved laying beside where she had once laid, laying on her back and swept under the waves of unconsciousness. (Y/N) had snuck out of her own bedroom to sleep with Lisa an ungodly amount of times, her warmth was one of the only things that could comfort her.

Despite this scene happening time and time again, the feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach had arisen.

Like it had done every night. Lisa was never bored of it though, she couldn’t get enough of (Y/N). She wishes she could set this moment in an unmoving stone, brushing her fingers over her beloved’s unconscious face, feeling the soft skin welcome her touch.

“I love you, my dear (Y/N).”

When Lisa awoke, the loving warmth of her darling was missing.

The ritual to the Anemo Archon took place monthly, to give thanks to the freedom of which was given after the fall of the Lawrence tyranny. Centuries of being held captive until the God Barbatos had descended from the heavens to lead the overthrowing of the tyrants. Each month, the Archon temple is visited by the people and given glorious and rich gifts by the mortals.  

People were expected to fill the chamber with their materialistic items, their useless amulets, and religious texts. Lisa Minci was a divine priestess of the worshippers, an untouchable woman surrounded by the light of the God’s graces.

Due to Lisa’s undoubted loyalty to the God’s and the wishes of Barbatos, What sealed this bond was the blood oath she took which bound her loyalty to the Archons and as a statement of which she belonged to Celestia. She was bound to celibacy. (Y/N) was bound to the inevitable future of marriage to a stranger.

They will be torn apart, Lisa cursed the God’s silently in her head as she preached. A book the size of her torso read with ancient scriptures of the same stories told again and again. They will be forced to be completely isolated from each other, never to embrace or kiss, never to be able to enjoy one’s company.

It’s a fate worse than death.

“Lord Barbatos led the village into a rebellion, the execution of the Lawrence head allowed the endless tyranny to finally come to a stop,” Lisa dramatically raised her arms as she continued telling the story, “He granted us the fine freedoms we get to have to this day.”

(Y/N) sunk in the vibration of Lisa’s voice in the crowded cathedral.

“We are now allowed to build businesses how we want, build this wonderful city, build this wonderful community,” the priestess settled into the deep brooding ocean of (Y/N)’s eyes, “We can love how we wish, freely, without punishment for being humans.”

Unlike Celestia, Barbatos was a merciful God. Of course Barbatos served Celestia as the Anemo Archon, but the inescapable fact remained that he ‘cared’ for his nation under its name.

As she sat in the crowd, a rock was in her stomach. The inevitable feeling of despair made it impossible to embrace the moments she and Lisa had shared, it was all temporary with a permanent feeling attached.

“Let us thank Lord Barbatos by granting the sacred land of Mondstadt this freedom.”

In reality, neither (Y/N) or Lisa were free.

(Y/N) snuck into her beloved’s room that night, like she usually did.

“Pull me up!” Lisa heard as she saw hands peer over her open window sill, “Pull me up!”

She did as the voice had instructed and grabbed (Y/N) from under her armpits and hoisted her through the window and into Lisa’s bedroom.

The ladies fell on top of one another, a victim of (Y/N)’s terrible balance and her nightgown catching the corner of the wooden sill which stuck out from the inside of the wall. The two fell to the floor, a loud thump following their tumble. Lisa could hear (Y/N) as she toppled on top of her.

Lisa, on the other hand, felt her anxiety spike. Her fathers heavy footsteps trailed down the hallway to the room, the familiar creaks of wood filled her chest with fear.

“Hide! Under the bed!” Lisa whispered, lightly pushing her lover under the evaluated mattress.

Her father causes her in the position of her crouched over (Y/N), attempting to hurry her under in order to hide. Luckily, his view was obscured to the other side and the nightstand that stood near the doorway.

“Lisa?”

She hardly answered, only humming in acknowledgement with a face of false cluelessness.

“What was that noise? It came from your room, are you alright?”

Lisa tried to ignore the rushing heartbeat pounding in her ears,”Oh… If it was one of my bigger books, I already cleaned up the mess. Everything’s fine.”

He looked around the room without moving from the doorway, nodding and bid his daughter a good night.

Only until his footsteps had left the creaking in the wood, certain that he had finally returned to his office to focus on his religious texts and anecdotes. Lisa finally allowed her lover to crawl what was under her bed. She was almost angry, but it all sunk into a cluster of guilt once she saw the mischievous smile that had adorned (Y/N)‘s sweet face. How could she be so mad at someone who had such a cute smile?

“I have a question,” (Y/N) asked, the moon had made its way into the center of the sky now, but neither of the women could feel the slightest bit of exhaustion, “You’re turning 21 soon, why haven’t you moved into the church?”

Lisa leaned against her, both sitting with their legs hanging off the bed facing the window which her lover had originally snuck into from.

“Do you want me to move into the church?”

“We wouldn’t have to worry about your parents catching us, and we could spend a lot more time together, ‘praying’, you know?” (Y/N) put up two fingers around the word ‘praying’ to resemble quotation marks. An obvious smile across her lips.

“How scandalous!” Lisa playfully gasped, lightly shoving her away only for her to come crashing back into her arms.

After the laughter and giggles had died down, (Y/N) spoke up again.

“Do you think we will ever be able to be together without having to hide it?”

It was a simple question, and the simple answer was no.

Lisa went silent for a few moments before answering, “I’m sworn to be forever loyal to Barbatos.”

“Willingly.”

“It was before I had met you, though.”

She sighed, “Lisa, look at me for a second.”

Slowly, she faced her beloved, and kissed her sweetly.

“Even if we are to ever love publicly, even if your loyalty may be to Lord Barbatos, I will always love you,” (Y/N)’s voice was soft, similar to that of a stream flowing down the side of a path after a rainstorm. The small sounds of water drops falling against the soil were able to be heard.

Lisa felt as if she was going to break within her embrace, “You’re so perfect, you are my everything.”

“I love you so much, Lisa.”

“Trust me when I say that English words cannot describe how much I love you.”

When they kissed again, it tasted of a sweetness in their chests that was born of loving adoration.

The sacrifices to Barbatos were held the next month, per usual. Lisa would embrace her lover each night, finding the will to perform the monthly ritual. The same ritual that kept them apart.

It was mostly Lisa’s fault, she had found the inability to love before (Y/N) had come into her life. So she followed her mothers dreams to become the high priestess, then (Y/N) made everything crash down. Her heart raced, her cheeks were flushed whenever they would speak or brush shoulder to shoulder within the crowded temple crowds.

That afternoon, she would be announcing she will be moving into the church and become the true high priestess.

“Lord Barbatos loves all of his subjects, please find grace in his love.” Lisa tried her best to keep the boredom from entering her tone.

It poured outside. The sound of the rain hitting the roof of the cathedral styled temple was reverberating across the walls in an eerie echoey hollowed noise.

After the preachings, Lisa took a shaky breath in, “I will be moving my living quarters to the church, taking my place as the true Barbatos priestess.”

She didn’t expect applause and cheer, but the townspeople praised her nonetheless. She felt so guilty, so guilty for leading them on to the false illusion that she, herself, was not a sinner. She doesn’t atone for her sins, how could she apologize for falling in love with the most splendid woman ever?

In her head she begged for Barbatos to come down from the heavens to validate her himself. She was so tired of keeping secrets.

The moon stood over the top of the vaulted halls of the temple. If one looked through the stained glass, one could see the illuminated clouds painted by the moon’s radiant light. Lisa nervously paced the corridor, the taps of her heels made her quick strides obvious. (Y/N) had planned on sneaking in to spend the night, and Lisa was determined to chase her off. It was just… too dangerous.

The cathedral was much too big for her to navigate on her own, especially at night. It wasn’t that Lisa didn’t want to see her beloved darling, but she’d have to focus on her duties before anything.

There she was, (Y/N) stood in the main hall in a formal casual white dress that was sleeveless and touched her knees. She looked so radiant under the pale moonlight, the shimmer of hues blending in with the colored glass of the windows making her look as if she was some sort of Goddess.

“(Y/N)!” Lisa quickly trotted over to her, “You cannot be here, I’ll try to find a way to get my room on the first floor but for now, we’ll have to meet during the day.”

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that, I won’t stay for long, my love. After your big announcement, my parents felt entitled to make one of their own,” (Y/N) looked down, the priestess noticed that she was barefoot.

“I got engaged.”

Three words, three words could carry so much power. ‘I love you’ and ‘marry me, Lisa.’

She knew this was going to happen, they both did. It was the inevitable truth that they both had come to them and there was nothing they could do about it other than let fate tear them apart.

It was both of their worst nightmare, but it was unavoidable.

(Y/N) spoke up again, “Let’s run away.”

“What?”

She wasn’t smiling, her brows were tilted upward with glossy eyes. Using all her might to keep her voice from cracking and breaking down entirely.

“Beloved please,” Lisa started, “I hate the fact you have to marry someone else other than me, it tears my heart into a thousand pieces. My heart aches for you.”

“But you cannot run away with me…”

“No, I have a blood oath to this temple. If I leave I will be hunted down by the Gods themselves. I cannot put you in that sort of danger.”

“To hell with the God’s!” (Y/N)‘s sudden rise in tone echoed through the walls, she was certain it scared the birds who rested atop the roof, “I’ll help you, we can travel out of Mondstadt where the Gods cannot touch us.”

Lisa moved closer to hush the hysteria by pressing her lips against her lovers, whispering between greedy kisses, sobs of, “I love you,” and “I need you.”

Arms wrapped around each other’s neck to bring their bodies closer, drowning and drinking in each other’s presence. Getting high off each other's scent. There wasn’t a way to escape anymore, Lisa never belonged to (Y/N), she was owned by the Archons and Celestia.

Reluctantly, swayed by her lover's damp cheeks and puffy eyes (Y/N) was led into the newer bedroom of Lisa’s. Decorated with tall bookshelves with golden spines, all neatly organized in neat and standing vertical over long horizontal rows. Potted plants stood in a particular corner of the room, a domestic bush of bleeding hearts gave the room a contrasting dots of pink. The walls were bleak, covered with books and statuettes representing Lord Barbatos.

“Did the church give you the bleeding hearts? You never seemed to take any interest in botany,” (Y/N) commented, crouching down to look at the plant closer.

“They were already there, I was thinking of asking one of the servants to replant it outside.”

Lisa looked at her as her beloved touched the leaves delicately, “You should, they’re too pretty to die here.”

The following month was hard to say in the least. (Y/N) kept her distance from the church unless she was sneaking in— despite Lisa’s warnings to stop. The both of them couldn’t help exchanging small kisses during the fleeting moments when they were finally alone. The church was massive, and (Y/N) couldn’t walk around by herself and Lisa couldn’t be caught with her.

The world was constantly working against them. The trigger being the blood that Lisa spilled for the divine.

Each day that the ceremony neared closer, the more Lisa’s shoulders felt unbearably heavy and she could hardly keep her eyes open. Spending most nights in the arms of her lover and hardly wanting to sleep and unable to get a kiss goodbye.

“The archons blessed us with the ability to be free,” the priestess read to the crowd, it was an early reading so hardly anybody showed. “Find love in Lord Barbatos and how the wind carries his grace and adoration for the Mondstadt people.”

She spotted (Y/N) in the lower right of the room, where she always was.

It was uncomfortably sunny, the early morning rays hit the priestess almost as if she were being burned alive through colored hues of painted glass.

With a sigh, Lisa opened her official scripture filled with the legends of the ancient archons. The paper under her fingers felt different, it felt less thin and textured as if someone had spilt water on it. As she looked upon the crimson ink that appeared in front of her as she read, she ceased her breathing and her heartbeat froze.

“Divinity of Celestia prevents the breaking of the blood oath. Celestia binds one to complete celibacy, having love for someone that is other than the Archons and Celestia Themselves is a breaking of the oath. Acting upon this love in front of the altar for the Archons is turning one’s back against Celestia. Sneaking behind the Divine's back and attempting to disobey is against Celestia.

When one spills one's blood into the sacred bowl of Boreas, one is consenting to be eternally bound to Celestia and the demands of both Celestia and worship of the Archons will be followed through.

By turning one’s back against these ideals one will be cursed with the ultimate form of excommunication, and be bound to the horrors of the abyss.

Lisa Minci will be forced upon these punishments for the breaking of the oath and betrayal of Celestia by loving (Y/N) (L/N).”

Every page was exactly the same, the only thing that changed was the terrible shade of red. The ink became more and more damp and stained the tips of her fingers. She rapidly turned each page, cold sweat and terror sinking into her stomach.

The small crowd of citizens mumbled and whispered among themselves as they saw their divine priestess turn each page in a manner that was more panicked with each page. Lisa looked up to reassure the participants that she had just gotten her scriptures mixed up, her jaw clenched.

An ear shattering crack echoed throughout the main corridor and the people screamed as the glass fell on top of them. Lisa, by natural defense, covered her face with her forearms and stumbled backwards.

The candles at the altar were no longer ignited.

“Lisa!” (Y/N)’s voice could be barely heard as she rushed over to her lover, feeling Lisa’s skin deform and morph underneath her touch.

Out of horror, she reeled back as what used to be her beloved, falling down the few steps that lead to the platform of where she once stood. Despite all of the fear in her body, despite every animalistic instinct in her body begging her to run away like all of the other townsfolk have done. (Y/N) stayed there.

Lisa finally had the courage to look up, her skin felt cold and an uncomfortable chill ran up and down her spine.

“(Y/N).” She called.

(Y/N) stayed there. Forever.

What used to be a human so full of life that she didn’t know what to do with it all, was now a shade of hard gray. She was stone, there was no shell for her to break through, there was no pain. (Y/N) would stay there forever as a formerly living statue.

Lisa repeated mantras and prayers while hugging the cold and hard waist of what remains of her lover, she begged for forgiveness, patiently waiting and hoping for something to descend upon the heavens and grant her what remains of Celestia’s mercy.

“Dear Barbatos, I’ve devoted myself to you. Please just once, I ask you to help me.”

She was greeted with a suffocating silence.

Her hair turned into snakes, the light hissing and the sound of their scales moving over one another was the only noise that pretended to comfort her.

Long Live Celestia.

[the-bats-who-simp]

Upon Holy Ground

Prologue

(All credit to GIF owner)

A Bat Coven LLC Production

Authored by: @the-bats-who-simp

Warnings: None

Once upon a time, centuries ago, the moon fell in love with the sun.

She tempered his fierce heat, he brought light to her surrounding darkness. Their love was pure and passionate, yet entirely forbidden. The moon, Juliet, was a goddess, well loved and respected. Her and her sisters, the stars, guided mortals even in the darkest of nights. The sun, Solaris, on the other hand, was of demonic descent. His light was too powerful, his heat too intense, a false mercy humans worshipped. The sun blinds, burns, and dries, too few seemed to understand that. Juliet didn't care. His love for her was stronger than all of that, and hers for him equal in intensity.

They met in secret, allowing their love to flourish through lies and deception. A goddess should be too good for a demon, a demon too evil for a goddess. In truth, Solaris never wished to cause harm, only to guide mortals in the absence of Juliet, help their crops grow. Juliet thrived in darkness, her light not as pure as some may think. Their imperfections matched together just as well as their divine perfections.

Until, one day, a jealous past lover of Solaris', a demon, went poking about in search of her precious sun, the one she so desperately craved despite him not loving her in return. The demon found Juliet and Solaris entangled with each other and made it known to her fellow demon thralls. Word spread to the gods as well, and the lovers were brought before their superiors. It was decreed that they were to never see each other again, regulated to their respective domains, unable to occupy the same space at the same time.

After begging and pleading, one mercy was granted to the lovers. Once every several years for a single day, they were allowed to meet and converse. Separation cannot totally destroy true love, and thus, on their first meeting after separation, the solar eclipse was born.

On that very first day when the moon and the sun birthed the eclipse, the twins were born. Two sons, each half god, half demon. A personification of the balance between the good and evil in the world, the boys were allowed to live so long as their mother was the one who raised them. The demonic blaze of their father could only be handled in small doses. Eclipses not only became the days the lovers would reunite, but they became the days the boys could see their beloved father. Even if the gods couldn't see it, Solaris was the least evil of the demons, a truth only Juliet and her sons knew.

However, it is said that one day, the twins of the moon and the sun would enter a thousand year quarrel, influenced by their latent demon natures, only concluded once one took the other's life. In congruence, a coven of Moon Blessed Witches will be formed in order to right the balance between the darkness and the light...

And it is they who will be the defense against the true enemy, saving this coil from total destruction.

[corvid-lullaby]

The lack of words was almost upsetting. Then again, why would there be any uttered when there was only a single person that remained alive?

A man stood before a fresh kill, but this kill was different for someone like Shikiya. He laid at his feet intact and unaltered by malicious intent. Curious, considering how well known it was for Shiki to play with and consume his prey. The only disfigurement was a single clean decapitation. In fact, his white scythe was still implanted into the ground from when the killing blow was delivered. There wasn't as much blood as there should have been either due to the severe cauterizing effect the scythe had.

Perhaps what was most perplexing about this victim was the way he died smiling. It was gentle; almost thankful.

Time? The tengu wasn't sure how long he was standing over the body. He seemed to be having trouble willing himself from the position of his hands in his pockets or from the deep frown that etched his aging face. All he could do was continue staring while seemingly lost in thought.

Eventually a soft sigh escaped him while his hands rummaged. As per usual a cigarette and lighter were pulled out. Right now he was craving his rolls of good tobacco and clove buds more than ever. He needed something to distract him from emotions he hadn't felt in so long.

Shiki had been watching this target for a while. He wasn't anyone of importance to be on someone's shit list. Quite the contrary. He was very kind, sweet, but had the curse of some of the worst luck he had ever seen. The tengu thought this would have been an easy meal as it was self preparing due to the misery he naturally and persistently lived through.

Instead, Shiki was met with a sour taste of deja vu. The events he saw the other live through… He was almost sure he had gone through the same. A happiness the victim thought he had, only for it to get torn from his hands. The struggle of trying to claw and cling for it there after. The sorrow and anger he slowly drowned in as he failed, yet walked as a living ghost due to regrets and wishes keeping him from taking his own life.

It all turned Shiki's stomach in such a mysterious way, as he was never one to feel pity or any kind of connection with his victims.

And so, for the first time in hundreds of years, the tengu granted someone peace. A merciful act, as Shiki's guts told him what would happen to this man if he didn't intervene. His first kill without any malicious intent. He could still hear the harrowing shrieks of despair the other gave off as he lost himself to grief within his final moments.

A burst of thunder suddenly webbed through the sky. Being interrupted from lighting his cigarette, the feathered being looked up.

"What. You got somethin' to say, too? Well damn, an answer for this shitten mess would be fuckin' swell, wouldn't it?"

In answer, it began to rain, which quickly grew heavier by the second.

Groaning, Shiki rolled his eyes before looking down at his lighter in defeat. Well, so much for having a smoke. That's when his attention shifted to his left sleeve. Feathers fell and piled there, and the darkened pigments of his hand began to bleed out. His eyes widened as his corvid-like properties fell and pooled into a puddle at his feet.

At that moment he realized it; he didn't feel hungry at all. All the rage and regret that lingered within like a deeply embedded worm also fell away to mingle with the sheddings of black feathers and ink. He stood there as a mere human in the truest sense. Not a trick or a glamour, but an actual human. Even though he wasn't sure why or how, it was certain; the curse was lifted.

Now a light brown, his eyes shifted back to his scythe. What normally was a warm and bright ivory now pulsed dimly. It revealed its details for the first time as that light ribboned away into distant particles. The handle and blade were ordinary but delicately carved stone. A look you would expect to see in a graveyard. Nothing sharp or powerful. Otherwise there was a vining rose with white blossoms that clung around it.

Now human, he couldn't help but stare at it with a new found clarity. That quiet moment would be interrupted by his own soft laugh. Gradually, it became hearty. Louder. It continued as he clutched and gripped at his own hair, until that laughter slowly became marred with that of pure insanity. It echoed along with the rolling thunder.

Even with the vanquished sorrow, can the broken truly be fixed? The mind is a fickle thing, and yet life continues to roll on.

鴉

[the-might-v]

“Kikimora. Sit down good girl.”

The Madness of a Smile is truly frightening, especially when locked with her. The Mad Hunting-dog of Apocalypse…

Mad Killa

After the battle of Earth when, the forces of Apokolips raid the planet and its people thanks to the efforts of their hidden spies within the systems of higher power, weakening the planets countermeasures.

One of those traitors was Kikimora, a member of the Empire's Society who thought all of her dreams would finally be achievable and would have been if, not for the combined efforts of the planets people, Justice League & Apokolips rivals from New Genesis. Together they stopped the takeover and were now protected under the treaty between the two god worlds.

The endgame resulted in many of the spies from Apokolips to either flee from their home-world never to return again or be captured and held to the fullest degree of the law imaginable. Hoping to find sanctuary for their service. However, Darkseid's wrath had yet to be tamed and so they received a fate much worse then anything they could imagine.

Peeling for mercy Darkseid charged Mistress-Blight with the treatment of his new followers. Some where taken as slaves, others were for Odaila's torture sessions and those like Kikimora were granted their desires for power but not without cost.

Odaila sought after Desaad, the planets leading scientist and even more of a twisted psychopath. To operate on the Biped demon much to his satisfaction, He Mercilessly took Kikimora apart enhancing her body to a whole new makeup while, Blight trained her. Screams of the small demon howled throughout the planet and when it was finally over Kikimora was no more, true to her new masters promise granted her power but she would forever be a Dog under the command of Mother Goodness.

Powers & Abilities

Mad-Killa is a gifted assassin Having been trained as a female fury by Mother Goodness. She is one of Darkseid elite female furies. Armed with power spikes sometimes claws that can slash through anything. She is very agile, nimble, and super fast. Due to her excessive training, she is known as a killing machine able to take on gods, humans, witches, aliens, etc. without any pity or remorse.

New God physiology: Granted the same strengths as a new god. Immortality, Super strength, Agility, etc.

Energy Claws: She uses razor-sharp claws that emit a powerful energy and refers to her claws as "Power Spikes".

Magic: As a New God Killa has access to fire and sealing magic.

Fire projection: As an offensive weapon, Kikimora is able to fire purple bolts of magic from her hands to her claws. Allowing for even more damage to be done if she wishes.

Slash sealing: Kikimora, using a finger on her head, to send a sigil over the slashes she has mad on her opponents to send them into a paralyzed state form of stasis and stifle their abilities.  

Intimidation tactics: Whilst not a magical ability, Kikimora seems to intimidate many members of Apokolips. This is likely do to her face which is unable to express anything other then a crackling evil smile.

Weakness

Claws: While, Killa's claw can cut through most substances their are some limits such as Nth metal or super-powered beings with magic like the Spectre.

Power Limiter: Like the other Furies, due to Odaials controlling nature Mad Killa sports the power collar around her neck but hers is designed with a few of Desaad's influence this full neck golden collar was seared into her flesh and sowed stitches on her mouth so, she can never stop smiling and adorned with a red ruby gem on top of her forehead. The collar is seared into Kiki's flesh and possesses the power to slowly tighten around her neck until she dies of asphyxiation, compressing her head to the point it could be crashed like a grape.

[beantothemax]

dreams ARE my fic inspiration

There were 5 things Temenos realised that night.

The first one: Crick was really cuddly.

Of course, Temenos had anticipated as much. They hardly got to see each other, and the last time they did, Crick had been brought back from the brink of death by Castti's capable hands. So of course he was bound to cling to Temenos like a lost lamb.

What Temenos hadn’t anticipated was how his body would react.

As soon as he slipped himself underneath the bedsheets and into Crick’s arms, he relaxed. Curled up. Leaned into Crick’s touch when he began gently running a hand through Temenos’s hair. When he felt gentle lips press a kiss to his hair, something next to his heart stirred, blearily mumbling Crick’s name. When it saw that Crick was being so gentle with Temenos, it began breathing in time to his beating heart, and settled down once again.

The second thing was: Crick was gentle. Very gentle.

“I am not a-”

“Flower that needs protecting. I know, Temenos. But- please, just this once, let me. Let me protect you, let me be gentle with you. You may think you do not need it, but every living thing, flower or not, needs some tender care.”

Temenos had fallen silent, trying to think of something to say in retaliation, but all argument was lost when he heard Crick’s voice utter a single word, tone full of emotion that he couldn’t decipher.

“Temenos...”

Temenos was scared- terrified- to allow Crick to see him. What lay inside. He didn’t want Crick, his darling little lamb, to turn away. He was scared that he might lose the one person who he had allowed a glimpse of the truth. But regardless, he sighed, and allowed his heart what it craved. He allowed himself to be loved, to be wanted. Crick wanted to be there, cuddling him. He loved Crick, and the thing that stirred desperately wished Crick would feel the same, hoped he did.

The third thing Temenos realised about Crick: He was no pushover.

He was gentle and kind, could certainly be naïve at times, but he wasn’t a pushover. Temenos had seen the fierce way he fought against Cubaryi. He ignored all his injuries, fought like the gods themselves were on his side. He threw himself in front of Temenos and the other travellers any time a blow would be landed on them, took it for them or blocked it.

He protected them and fought well, but Cubaryi had still struck his sword arm, piercing the flesh with her wicked blade. In retaliation, Crick had simply switched hands and continued to fight. He switched between his sword and a hunting knife he had, strong and sturdy, made for flaying things with tough skin and bones. At one point, Crick had blocked Cubaryi’s sword with his knife, and sliced her hand so she dropped her sword. That had been the final straw of the fight.

Crick had threatened Cubaryi with torture if she did not confess the whereabouts of her higher-up, Kaldena. He threatened to keep her on the brink of death, never quite dying but never feeling fully alive either. The prospect of nearing death but never achieving it seemed to terrify the deputy more than actually dying, as she had hurriedly told them where Kaldena resided. Crick had granted her a small mercy by ending her life quickly after that.

The fourth thing Temenos realised: He had rubbed off on Crick.

Crick no longer praised the gods and the Sacred Flame as much as he used to, and often vocally challenged the rule of the gods, much to Temenos’s secret pride and delight. He, too, still believed in the gods, but often questioned whether or not they had the good of humanity in mind. Of course, he’d never go so far as some of the heretics, but he most definitely was not a pious man. It seemed Crick had become of like mind, only praying to the Sacred Flame when he was about to do something truly horrendous- like killing Cubaryi. He had asked for even the barest forgiveness under his breath as they all departed back to the inn to rest and recover. Mainly because Castti would have all their heads if they gathered the other travellers and continued on their merry way covered in injuries.

Crick’s prayer for forgiveness intrigued Temenos. In the beginning, Crick would have been choking on his own tongue begging for mercy from the gods. Now, all he spared them was a humble request not to smite him for killing someone.

The last thing Temenos realised: They loved each other.

“Temenos...”

Crick’s tired voice pierced through the quiet darkness of their inn room, and Temenos hummed in acknowledgement. “Hm?”

“I have something I must get off my chest. I doubt I can sleep otherwise unless I tell you.”

Temenos rolled over to face Crick. His warm brown eyes were darkly circled, his strawberry-blonde hair fell in waves around his face.

“I love you, Temenos...” He breathed, an edge of anticipation to his otherwise lovestruck tone, and the thing that had stirred inside him roared in glee.

Temenos brought himself closer, and pressed a gentle kiss to Crick’s lips.

“I love you too, Crick.”

AAAAAAAAAAA BWFHSGS?????????? AUH. TGISB IS PERFECT

CRICK BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF CUBARYI YEAH WOOOOOOO GET HER ASS!!

and th sweet lil ending as always… im very normal about these two btw.

[4ggravation]

happy birthday.

below the cut is a little drabble i decided to do for an oc's birthday, which is tomorrow, november 12th.

special thanks to @kasmusser for reading this before i released it! please reblog to support your fellow artists.

There’s many an urban legend passed around the not-so-small town of Portmouth. Of weeping angels, of unsettling demons, of all matters of supernatural beings. Such things are usually waved away as delusion, hallucination, or simple tricks of the eye. But, there is one urban legend that is nearly universally agreed upon.

Every time Portmouth receives a thunderstorm, there’s always an uncanny, almost otherworldly figure roaming the streets. No one has dared to get close enough to touch it or see it in detail, but it always brings loud lightning and a lingering sense of despair.

When the storms clear, citizens get a closer look. Most describe him as a man, clearly an adult but of unknown age. His fingertips drip with foreign blood, eyes sunken deep as he perpetually stares at the pavement. A golden ring of light hangs over his head like an omen, matching the color of his eyes and the dark brown of his messed hair. He stumbles on tired feet at all hours of the night, carrying the sort of body you’d find rotting in a ditch. Always on the same path.

Many wonder if he’s real or not. He’s too methodical, too strange, as if they’re looking at the exact same sight every night. Small things change, but it’s uncommon. Sometimes he has a cane or a polearm, sometimes he sleeps most of the night away. 

It’s curious. He acts so obviously human. Yet he is so ostentatiously not at the same time.

Sometimes he isn’t seen at all.

This is one such night.

The back alleys and unwalked streets of Portmouth feel barren without their sorrowful angel patrolling them. It’s the dead of night, and he’s nowhere to be found. What happened?

Praying with trembling, raw muscles, Miguel Briones begs to forget his own birthday. He resists the urge to scratch at himself, to grit his teeth and make his pain worse. How ironic it is– so desperate for pain, for anything, and yet yearning for emptiness at the same time. Such contradiction reminds him of his echoing heartbeat, his aliveness. How human it is, to beg.

He can’t win. His throat tightens, but he does not weep. He thinks that he lost the ability some thirty years ago.

Another November twelfth passes alone. Alone, alone, alone with nothing but the heartbeat he can’t bring himself to stop. Every year, he prays to forget. To wipe himself of all that is worldly, down to his very blood and flesh. He died once, why can’t he do it again?

…What is he hearing?

He isn’t human, he reminds himself when his heartbeat picks up. It’s a mindless habit at this point. When he recognizes the footsteps that make his breath hitch, that voice that drives him utterly mad, the familiar pollen-induced tickling in his nose, he reminds himself again.

And he sneezes.

Maybe he isn’t as good at this as he previously thought.

“Ah, there you are!”

Miguel wishes he could die again right then and there, but when has God ever liked him enough to grant such mercy?

Miguel is pulled up from his kneeling position, forced to meet the gaze of the all-too-joyous wanderer he had oh-so-foolishly taken in. The air shifts slightly when they both simultaneously realize how light of a carry Miguel is, but that doesn’t last long.

“You seem awfully gloomy for what day it is,” The naive simpleton says. All Miguel can think of to respond with is a slight shrug. “Come now, do you not have any plans?”

“I never do,” Miguel responds, both his expression and voice blank and emotionless. All the other man does in response is click his tongue and shake his head.

“So be it. I’m sure I can spruce something up for you.”

Miguel wants to stop him, but he already knows that it’s too late. He was going to be dragged along whether he liked it or not. At least it would be more enjoyable than staying on the ground.

“What do you have in mind?” Miguel asks, more as an interrogation than an inquiry. “Well, you certainly aren’t the revealing type, so I had to do plenty of thinking to find something you’d like.”

He walks over to the other side of the room, pulls a box from the table. He can feel Miguel’s eyes scanning him the entire time. He holds out the box for Miguel, still putting on a mild grin despite the tension growing in the air. “I hope this is good enough. I really did try, believe me.”

Once Miguel takes a closer look, his heart flutters with both terror and excitement. It’s a box of chocolates, presumably stolen from one of the local stores. He feels a pang of joy in his chest. Why wouldn’t he? He loves chocolate.

…But the fact that they both know that is enough to bring Miguel right back down from where he was. Perhaps he wasn’t too proficient in being incomprehensible just yet. What a shame.

He’s conflicted. On one hand, this is a very charming and thoughtful gift, something he hasn’t gotten in probably a decade or three. But on the other hand…

His doubts are waved away by the younger man, as if he could read his thoughts. “Don’t think about it too much. I just wanted to give you something nice on your birthday.”

Miguel looks down at the box, a complicated, uncomfortable swirl of feelings filling him. He doesn’t smile, but the shocked parting of his lips and widened eyes are the most visible joy anyone’s going to get out of him currently. All things considered, this is probably the best birthday he’s had in years, even if he has to deal with… him.

Maybe this won’t be so terrible, he wonders.

“Happy birthday, Miguel.”

And for once, it does feel happy. At least a little. He’ll enjoy it while his lack of guilt lasts.