#But that’s what this loathsome creature is from | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

comfortless · 7 months

Note

for your consideration, dearest syl: hybrid Flemish giant rabbit!König 🐇💭

flemish giant rabbit hybrid! König x fem, coyote hybrid! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. hybrids: König is (mostly) human! he just has bunny ears and a cute lil tail & the same goes for reader!, kind of dark- mentions of what is essentially cannibalism, violence, scent & breeding kink, dubious consent to everything. please heed the warnings!

hello lil wisp! sorry!! this veered off a bit from what i usually write. there is still some fluff and sweetness here if you squint real hard…

Winter is setting in.

You could feel it on your bare skin, the chill that sweeps past the trees like breath from a ghoul’s rotting throat: something dead and wretched, so cold it steals your breath and halts the blood in your veins. If you weren’t careful, staying ahead of yourself and the rest of the things lurking in the woods, that ivory death would creep up, grab you by the neck and drown you out in the snow.

With the season comes the need to feed. You don’t have the luxury of hibernation settled into the primitive roots of your brain. While everyone else tucks themselves into dens carved out from mountains or beneath the earth, settled in with the roots of vast trees, you’re still left in smothering snow, heavy as the weight of the hunger.

You were born for this, the hunt: to feel your fingernails dig into the fallen leaves and forest debris, curl in carving your name into the earth, bite and rip and tear. “Little coyote,” the birds would call, seated up on tree limbs so, so far above that the sunlight would burn your eyes if you dare to look at them, “let us watch.”

You always put on the show, always stage the fight with grace. A lost, blubbering sheep one day; the wool ‘round her ears dried your throat, her mournful bleating only died down when your teeth found her throat. The canopy above echoed your pride, they were always grateful to have something to scavenge later, whether it be finger or eye or ear; your hunger wasn’t the only that raged out here in the forest.

This winter would have to be your last alone. You could feel the way a life of roaming without pack or anything to settle with had eaten away at not just your body, but that little illusion of a soul somewhere tucked a long way down inside of you.

It would be a simple one, too— drag some creature to your den to keep your flesh warmed and your stomach full, survive this loathsome season and flourish with the spring. When the leaves returned and the lakes thawed, you could settle into some foreign pack. Flash your neck, hide your teeth and hope they wouldn’t rip you apart as you have so many others.

You think to yourself that a deer would do, some meek little doe that would bat her eyelashes and plead that you only wait the winter out with her, curling against you to keep you warm as you keep her safe until finally…

You didn’t like to think about it too much.

As much as the chase and the thrill had a hold on you, thinking about the loss of life, the ghosts that cling to your shoulders and wail, waiting for your turn to join them was far different. You couldn’t fight your nature, but you knew well enough you could never entirely swallow down the guilt that came with it, either.

There was a pain in your legs as you walked, exhaustion that would go unsatisfied until your plan had been laid out proper. It begins to feel dismal when you realize you have not seen another creature in miles, no prints, either. The only thing that brings you any companionship are the first flakes of snow, sifting down from far above, the great bone white and gray of an falsified sea.

You crouch and wait, curling your arms around your midsection as you shiver. Time passes, but you can’t be certain of just how much… mere seconds, maybe hours. The sky gives nothing away.

Now, there’s a rabbit.

You catch the scent of it on the breeze, musky and floral. Poor thing has probably only basked beneath evergreens, lived in sprawling gardens its entire life, kissed the sun and held flaking petals in its hands. So very unlike you who only knows the shade, the blood, and the hunt.

Your charge is determined, the soles of your feet torn and bloodied from angry thorns springing up from the crushed leaves on the cold soil; teeth bared as you hurtle through the brush of dying plant life. Its so close, so terribly close you can already feel the way your teeth will rend its flesh, feel saliva pooling up on the back of your tongue.

Reaching the forest’s edge you spot… him.

The rabbit is huge, stood in the midst of the deadened field with his back turned to you. The tall, decaying grass just barely brushes against the backs of his knees, low hanging fog veiling his face. If not for the puffy, fawn-colored tail situated just past the expanse of the pale, toned back, you would have assumed you were faced with some sort of bear.

This is not your usual prey.

No matter the sharpness of your claws or the ferocity of your bite, you know well enough that someone like this could never be brought down by yourself alone. It’s too risky, even as your belly aches and you itch to be back in the warmth of your den, surrounded by the pelts of the four-legged imitations and the fire roaring in its pit…

Rabbits were simple, at least. You press your face against them and cuddle, whisper sweet things in their ears and they melt, begging to be swallowed whole without any idea that you’ve only ever meant it literally.

You approach him with cautious, gentle steps, allowing your body language to remain open and friendly as you present him with the view of you bare, claws turned inward into your own palms and teeth hidden away by soft, warm lips. Your ears lie back to rest against your head, tail tucked between your thighs: all a display of utter submission, and a trickery that has worked time and time again.

“It’s getting cold..,” you murmur, voice low and as pitiful as it can get. “Will you keep me warm?”

Your rabbit cocks his head at you, one flopped ear lifting in curiosity. And he doesn’t move, doesn’t startle… The poor, stupid thing remains in place as his stare drinks you in, almost adoringly as you pad right up to him. There’s no hope of your faces being level, you merely use that to your advantage, putting on a cute pout and placing your palms flat against his bare chest.

“Ja,” he murmurs, gently coaxing your chin up to look him properly in the eye. Cute prey was easy, but never… never in your life had you found your prey to be handsome. Even with those silly ears bouncing with each cloudy puff of breath he takes, his face is still something of a myth. The old humans would have made statues in his honor from his build alone, but that face would have given him the look of a warrior of myth— brutish, yet charming with the wide grin he gives you when you meet the sea holly color of his irises. “Come here.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease and your shivering immediately ceases, he’s warm like the summer sun.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers into one of your triangular ears, causing it to involuntarily flick from the rush of his breath and press tighter to your skull.

Your intent was to take him to your own den, but as he begins to move it winds up being the opposite; there are mountains, an ice covered stream all laid out before you as he huffs more sweet words in a foreign tongue against your temple. It takes some time to understand that what you had intended to do and what he intends are entirely different. The mouth of a vast cave comes into view right as he dips his head, huffs several breaths against you, panting like a dog.

You’re only dropped when he kneels down to enter the den— his, ripe with the scent of sweat and musk and something floral. The rabbit has supplies stowed away for the winter, an array of preserved food, ample pelts likely stolen away from some other poor creature. He has weapons scattered about, stolen away from what remained of the old humans and their buildings, some sharper and more deadly than even the claws that crest the peeks of your hands. Your heart only plummets… you’re not in the presence of some stupid bunny, but a behemoth.

You begin your protests in a hiss, only to have your lips met with dried fruit, something sweet and red laid out on your tongue that tastes of sugar. He pulls you up and over his lap as he fits you both into the bed of animal skins and feeds you by gently guiding the food to your lips. The only think still spitting and crackling is a fire pit at the center as you allow yourself to somewhat settle.

The rabbit man only hums his contentment against your throat as your back presses to the expanse of chest behind you, and his hands trail away from your mouth, down further until they’re spreading your legs for him. Your pulse races as your eyes map the daggers across the floor down to the fur he’s seated you with him upon.

There’s only a hiss of breath that leaves your lips when his already leaking cock does press against the heat of your core. You don’t fuck prey— that would only spoil it, and you suppose that you are satisfied in knowing that he has no intention of harming you, only filling you with his seed, perhaps even his kits…

As his tip snags at your entrance, he purrs finding you already wet, bared open for him with his hand still steadying your thigh.

“Coyotes mate for life, hm?,” he rasps against the back of your neck, his own thigh trembling with the sheer excitement of the prospect of breeding you, tethering you to him for not only the rest of this winter.

You can hardly bite back the moan as he pushes through your folds again, nudging your bud as he spreads your arousal over the girth of him.

“Answer,” he commands in a sharp whisper, using his free hand to guide your chin up again. And you do, only in a weak nod.

He stuffs you full then, leaves you a panting heap as he repositions you onto your knees and covers you in himself. The furs smell of him, not the animals they’ve come from. Just the scent of lonely nights and a bitter, masculine stench that you whine and whimper into; all while he grunts his approval and praises about your tightness, your warmth, how you look somehow prettier now, capsized in his bed. Even has the audacity to whisper how long he’s watched you dart through the forest and waited for you to come to him as you sink your claws into hay and fur to steady yourself from the punishing pace he sets.

He only seems more fervent and adoring when he brings you to a rapturous bliss, keening whines and and tight praises pulled free from your throat as your cunt drools around him.

“You want kits?,” he purrs behind you, around you, everywhere as his voice lowers to an almost growl with each word spoken. In your trembling state, addled by sheer bliss as his cock soars into you to grind against your deepest places, you’ve barely the mind to refuse him anything. You merely mumble into the fur, something akin to a yes that has him grasping at your hips as though you’re his last tether to life itself.

When he’s finished, your stomach full of fruit and cunt full of him, he whispers into your ear about how the old humans believed in fate. His hands trail over your back, your waist, every curve only to rise and cup your cheek. His ears raise when he kisses you then, tender, as if trying to push his faith that you belong here right past your teeth.

#könig x reader #tw: dubcon

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burnednotburied · 5 months

Text

Chapter 3: Cursed Creatures

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

Note: This is not at all how I thought this chapter would start. Alas, I am riddled with religious trauma, and Taylor Swift just released the song “Guilty as Sin?” I mean… “My boredom’s bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the WOLVES” Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. So this started out differently than I planned. But what was I to do? I am just a girl.

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There were many topics on which you had been educated in-depth but were never supposed to experience first-hand.

Sex was one of those topics.

You knew the mechanics of it. The anatomy that was involved. Its purposes and benefits. The dangers of it.

You had been told, vehemently, that it was something that should never be done outside of the safe and proper confines of marriage.

Which meant you could never do it because you could never marry.

The Prophet had to remain pure.

Set apart.

Free from romantic, familial, worldly ties.

You were taught to suppress any desire to do otherwise. A task that you had been mostly successful at upholding.

But there were times when your eyes lingered where they shouldn’t and your own thoughts made you shiver and blush.

It was the sin of lust.

The other major vices were usually easily circumvented. You could be disciplined and selfless, just and kind, modest and brave.

You always did what you were told, and you didn’t ask questions.

You told yourself that you weren’t weak; you just knew your place. You knew what was expected of you, and no other options had ever been made available.

So, like thrown clay, you had allowed yourself to be molded into the person you were today, each piece of you carefully and intentionally shaped by the hands of others.

The Elders created the perfect Seraphite specimen. Quietly devout. Enigmatic. Indelible. Untouchable. Obedient.

A mouthpiece disguised as a leader.

A Prophet.

They made you.

You were not a naturally occurring thing.

Sometimes you didn’t even feel human.

Lust was one sin you knew could be concealed, buried far below your surface, unseen by critical eyes.

It was a small act of rebellion. A hidden glimmer of defiance. Although, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

And it was made especially loathsome due to the regrettable fact that it only ever happened to you when you were looking at or thinking of a woman…

Now the Wolf stood in front of you, hammer held tightly in her right hand.

Demons were quickly descending upon you, and you had just witnessed (and neglected to intervene into) the death of three of your own people. The only person you helped was the Wolf, your enemy, who you were meant to kill.

You could guess what the Elders would say if they were here now. How disappointed they would look as they pointed out your many failings.

For once, you didn’t care.

Strangely, despite everything, you felt like a bird whose cage door was just thrown wide open.

Or a well-trained dog that had been mistakenly let off leash.

You could breathe. Unrestricted.

Your eyes remained glued to the Wolf.

Her back was to you, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her shoulders rose with each of her deep, deliberate breaths.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes traced down the length of her arms, taking in her strong form…

See, you knew the sin of lust was bad, if only because it made you stupid.

Or distracted, at the very least.

Demons were coming, and you had just been moments away from gutting this girl.

You definitely couldn’t trust her.

But you didn’t have to trust her to look at her.

A series of snapping twigs and high-pitched shrieks from the surrounding forest instantly brought your attention back to the approaching threat.

Demons were another one of those things that they taught you about but never thought you’d actually encounter.

When you arrived on the mainland that morning, you had been led to the network of Seraphite-built bridges, above the city, concealed in the clouds.

Nearly your entire day had been spent in the sky.

If there were any Demons below, you didn’t see them.

Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to come across the cursed creatures.

The sounds they made were animalistic, but somehow still eerily human. Like a voice that was either enraged or overwhelmed with pain.

You had been told that they were unsavable. Completely consumed by the disease and irrevocably punished for their sins. No longer even human.

As a child, you heard stories of the first Prophet valiantly fighting off hordes in defense of her early followers.

In training, they taught you how to fight both Demons and human adversaries alike. Although the former was always theoretical.

You were shown sketches, detailing the different stages of it.

Foolishly, you thought you were ready.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what came running out from the cover of the trees.

It moved faster than you would’ve thought possible, too quickly for you to take it all in, but the glimpses you captured were grotesque.

It went straight for the Wolf, swinging its arms wildly. She effortlessly dodged its attack before striking with the hammer. Hard. It was dead in just three blows.

Two more approached from behind you, closest to Lev, and it was past time for you to be useful.

Lev was a skilled archer, but he was still a kid. And Yara, also a kid, only had use of one of her arms.

Both of the Demons were focused on Lev. He fired an arrow, hitting one of them in the chest, but it didn’t take it down.

Its back was to you.

You couldn’t let yourself freeze again.

You closed the distance between you and the beast, lifting your dagger with both hands and bringing it back down swiftly, piercing deeply through its skull.

It let out one last pained shriek as it fell.

The Wolf had taken out the other Demon before Lev had to loose another arrow.

But there were two more where those came from. One swung at the Wolf, and the other came for you.

You were able to dodge, narrowly missing the impact of its savage attack. Stepping back, you continued to evade its blows.

You swung at it, but the thing was fast. Your blade cut into its shoulder instead of its head. Ripping your weapon out, you tried again. This time, you hit your target.

That was two for you.

“Prophet, look out!” Yara shouted. Before you could discern which direction the threat was coming from, you were brutally thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of you entirely.

Death wore the grisly face of the Demon standing above you.

You had dropped your dagger, leaving you completely defenseless.

Lev’s arrows pierced its throat twice.

It kept coming.

You blinked and it was on the ground. The Wolf knelt over it, hammer crashing over its skull repeatedly, past when the thing was decidedly dead, until the hammer actually broke in her hand.

You just blinked again.

She saved you.

Why did she save you?

You scrambled to your feet, your breaths coming too quickly.

You tried not to panic.

You had only almost died.

You were fine.

The Wolf dropped the splintered remnants of the hammer and stood, shaking out her hand. You stared as she walked over to where your dagger lay on the ground and bent to pick it up.

She looked at you for—as far as you could tell—the first time since you’d cut her down from the rope.

She walked over, holding your gaze.

You realized that she could kill you now. That that was likely why she had saved you.

So she could end you herself.

Because you were the Prophet, and a Seraphite. Or because you had nearly killed her before.

She could even do it with your own weapon. The one that had been meant for her.

You imagined that would be satisfying for a brutish Wolf.

As she approached, you noticed that she towered over you, making you doubly aware of the fact that this was not a fight you would win if it came down to it. Especially when you were unarmed.

She stopped when she stood only a couple feet in front of you, turning the dagger over in her hand and simply offering it to you, handle-first.

Dumbly, you slowly reached out and took it.

Her hand fell back to her side.

There was a hint of a smug little smile on her face, like she knew what you had been thinking.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” she said, voice low. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you, and you resented the way it made your cheeks warm.

Before you could come up with a competent response, Yara interrupted.

“Prophet, Wolf! Come on. We have to move!” She held a lit torch in her uninjured hand. Lev stood at her side, ready to run.

“Where are you going?” the Wolf asked, unsure if she would be following. You were already moving to join Yara and Lev.

“Out of these woods. We’ve gotta run! Now! The coast is this way.”

They took off into the trees with you close behind. The sound of footsteps falling behind you informed you of the Wolf’s apparent decision to tag along, at least for the time being.

You could also hear more Demons, closing in on either side, chasing the torch’s light. Which meant they were after Yara.

You ran faster, trying to close the distance between you just in case.

As she passed an abandoned vehicle, one of the Demons jumped out, tackling her to the ground.

Lev shot an arrow through its head as you ran to her, pushing the dead Demon off and helping her back to her feet.

The horrifying chorus of even more of them, just beyond your vision, made you startle with each screech.

“They’re all around us!” Yara cried, moving closer to her brother.

The Wolf, weaponless after breaking the hammer, quickly looked around, finding a glass bottle. She grabbed it and threw it at the next creature that emerged from the forest.

The Demon slowed, momentarily stunned, and the Wolf wasted no time knocking it over and bringing her foot down on its skull hard and fast.

Just one stomp and it was dead.

You flushed again, transfixed.

Stupid.

You should not find that attractive.

But she was undeniably incredible.

You shook your head in an attempt to refocus as you turned to watch Lev take down another with a couple well-aimed shots.

A shriek behind you revealed the presence of yet another. You turned to meet it, killing the thing easily enough.

It seemed your training in combat had been sufficient after all, at least where Demons were concerned.

“That was the last of them,” Yara said.

“You guys okay?” the Wolf asked, like she might actually care.

“Yeah,” Lev breathed out, bow and arrow still at the ready.

“We have to keep moving before more come,” Yara insisted, taking up the lead again as she pressed forward.

You all ran after her.

“Every direction looks the same,” said the Wolf. You were inclined to agree. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“It has to be this way,” Yara said, quietly determined.

“What the hell am I doing?” the Wolf muttered to herself under her breath.

The four of you picked up your speed as the Demons grew closer.

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Abby seriously had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She was running through the woods, fighting off Infected with three Scars.

And one of them was the Prophet.

Who had been fully intending to disembowel her not too long ago…

Something had to be wrong with her. Maybe it was brain damage from nearly suffocating.

Because this wasn’t like her.

A couple hours ago, Abby was killing Scars. Happily.

Well maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. It didn’t make her happy. She just didn’t feel bad about it.

And now, she was prancing through the forest and going out of her way to protect Scars?

The kids were one thing. They seemed to be just as in danger with other Scars as they were with the Infected.

What had that one woman called them? Apostates?

Abby had done enough reading to know what the word meant. She guessed they must have broken some stupid, insane rule and run off.

Or been kicked out.

Either way, from what Abby had gathered, they had gone rogue and were being hunted by their own people.

Which meant they weren’t necessarily her enemy.

But the other girl. The Prophet…

Abby didn’t know what was going on with you.

Were you going rogue too, or were your friends just dead and you needed help getting past the Infected and out of the woods?

And yeah, you had been about to kill her before. But you’d stopped as soon as there was a distraction. Took the out the second it was offered.

And then you had been the one to cut her down.

So maybe you didn’t want to kill her.

That counted for something, right?

Abby didn’t let herself think too much about how pretty you were.

How stunning your eyes looked when they met hers.

How your fingers felt, lightly grazing her bare skin for just a second, then leaving all too soon.

And how you had definitely blushed when she spoke to you.

See? She totally wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.

And she was probably delusional.

And way too distracted, spending any amount of time or energy thinking about such crazy shit while you were all actively running for your lives.

Abby was bringing up the rear of the group, and she knew a horde of Stalkers was not far behind her.

She really hoped these Scars knew where they were going.

“It’s just up here!” the girl, Yara, shouted from up ahead, leading the way to a wall of hanging vines.

The boy, Lev, pulled the vines aside, revealing an opening behind. Yara carefully but quickly maneuvered through. You waited until both she and Lev were on the other side before looking up at Abby expectantly.

There wasn’t time to argue, so Abby went next. You followed closely behind, then let the vines fall back into place, hiding your path from the Infected that pursued.

On the other side, Abby was met with the sight of several dead bodies, clearly recently slaughtered.

She couldn’t tell from this distance what had killed them. Or if they were Scar or WLF.

“Those are fresh. There another way around?” she asked, maneuvering around the corpses.

Lev spoke up. “If there were, would we be going this way?”

Okay. Fair point.

Yara pointed to a chain link fence with the torch. “Come on, Lev. Get it open.”

The kid tried to bend the steel wires up to create an opening. It didn’t budge, despite his efforts.

“Move,” Abby said. He did.

She strained as the piece of fencing gave way beneath her hands.

“Get in there, Prophet,” she said, teeth clenched.

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You quickly slid through the opening and popped up on the other side.

Finally, you were free of the suffocating forest.

The clearing was illuminated with light of the full moon.

You wandered on ahead as Lev, Yara, and the Wolf came through the fence behind you.

“Prophet?” A new voice spoke out as you turned the corner. The reverence in the person’s tone alone told you that you were dealing with a Seraphite.

You turned toward the voice to see a woman you recognized but whose name you couldn’t recall. She was large and stood tall, the side of her face bloody and a pickaxe in her grip.

She had been part of a patrolling squad in the area. You’d seen her briefly earlier in the day, with Emily, after the Wolf had been captured.

The woman saw that you were, in fact, who she thought you were, and she bowed her head out of respect.

“Are you alright, Prophet? What are you doing out here? Where is Emily?”

You were at a loss for words.

Her voice was calm and concerned now, but you knew that she would kill Lev, Yara, and the Wolf if given the chance.

“I—”

Your two friends entered the clearing behind you, drawing her eyes toward them.

“Apostates,” she hissed, and instantly her demeanor changed.

She rushed past you, ruthlessly throwing Yara to the ground and lifting Lev up by his neck.

You moved without thinking, your dagger still tightly clutched in your fingers. Again, you raised your arms above your head, just as you had done when fighting the Demons. Using all of your strength, you brought the blade down above her head, piercing her skull. The weapon was long enough that it exited through her chin.

Her body slackened and slumped to the ground. Dead.

You stared down at her, feeling the weight of what you had just done.

This wasn’t a Demon. It wasn’t an animal.

She was a living person.

And a Seraphite. One of your own people.

You were supposed to be her Prophet. Her leader. Her new hope.

She hadn’t been watching her back because she never imagined that you could betray your people like that. That you would pose a threat to her.

You continued to stare, holding your breath. You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t deserve to look away.

You felt a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes began to water.

No. You would not cry.

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Abby was the last to enter the clearing.

By then, the Scar was already holding Lev in the air, and you were already approaching from behind, lifting your dagger.

Abby watched as you killed her.

Woah.

You were good with that knife, she’d give you that.

Yara and Lev got back to their feet and watched as you stared down at the dead Scar, unmoving. Like you were frozen.

You weren’t even breathing, and you looked like you might cry.

Abby had been wondering how many WLF soldiers you killed today before you got to her. If the three she’d seen hanging when she first came to were yours.

Now, she was sure they weren’t.

Because based on your reaction, that had to be your first time.

She wasn’t usually one to be especially sensitive to the emotions of others, but when she heard you sniffle, finally taking in a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but move towards you.

Abby thought of her own first kill. How easy it was to do in the heat of the moment, but how torn up she’d been in the aftermath.

She understood that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell.

She fought the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, or even rub your back soothingly. Reminded herself of who you were and who she was and all the reasons why she shouldn’t even be here right now.

Instead, she bent to retrieve your dagger from the body. She tried to hand it back to you, but you were still stuck, staring down.

“Hey. You did a good job.” She took your hand in hers, placing the handle into your palm and closing your fingers around it. She didn’t let go, allowing her hands to fully encompass yours.

Abby waited until you met her eyes. “You saved them,” she said, nodding towards Lev and Yara, who were both silently watching this unfold. “You did what you had to do.”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, like you wanted to argue. But you seemed to change your mind, ultimately just nodding your head lightly.

She let her hands drop and glanced back down at the slumped body again, her eyes catching on something.

“Wait. Is that my backpack?” Abby asked, looking more closely.

Beside her, you lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Probably. Emily gave it to her earlier,” you said numbly.

Abby didn’t need to ask who Emily was. She could guess.

She reclaimed her belongings while you pulled yourself together.

“Are you two alright?” you asked the siblings.

“Yes, Prophet,” Lev answered, watching you closely. Abby noticed that you seemed to bristle ever so slightly at his use of your title. You didn’t say anything though.

She held her rifle in her hands again, happy to have her stuff back.

Especially the guns.

Wordlessly, the Scar kids led the way into the nearest building.

Out of habit, Abby began gathering supplies as you went along, taking ammo and medical supplies and anything else that seemed useful.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Yara, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I have it under control,” the girl insisted defensively.

“Okay…” Abby took a box of ammo from a cabinet. “Grab any supplies you find.”

“We can’t touch this stuff. It’s Old World,” Lev said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“Are you fu---? You need supplies. We’re not out of the woods yet.” She opened and then shut a drawer. “Pun fucking intended.”

“What’s a pun?” Lev asked from another room.

Abby didn’t have the energy to answer that question.

Instead she said, “I’ve never seen Scars go after Scars like that before.”

“Seraphites,” you and Lev corrected in unison as you explored different rooms of the building.

Again, she ignored. “So what the hell did you do?”

“I shaved my head,” Lev answered simply.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

The group passed through building after dilapidated building, heading towards the coast. At least in theory.

“We’re almost there,” Yara said. “Just a little farther.”

She led the way down a steep drop-off into another run-down building. One where you wouldn’t be able to get back out the same way you went in.

“Now what?” Abby threw out, tired and frustrated.

“I’m quite confident it’s this way.”

“Quite confident?” Abby repeated incredulously.

“You don’t have to follow us,” Lev pointed out.

“You want me to leave you three out here alone?” Abby shot back.

Your response was an immediate and insistent, almost panicked, “No!”

Everyone else turned to you, surprised.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lev offered.

Abby found the front doors, but they were held firmly closed by a metal gate on the outside.

Above the door was a large opening, too high for Abby to pull herself out of, but not too high for someone to climb through with a boost.

“If you get us through there, we’ll open the gate,” Lev said.

Abby remembered again that these were Scars she was dealing with. And like hell was she going to boost you all up to safety just so you could leave her stranded here.

“Get them out,” you said, as if you could read her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”

Lev started to protest but stopped after one shake of your head.

Abby nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

He gave you one last look before walking over to her, stepping into her open hands and pulling himself through the opening.

“Your turn.” Abby looked at Yara. “Watch that arm.” She carefully helped the injured girl maneuver up and out.

The all too familiar shriek of Infected sounded off behind you, coming from deeper in the building.

On the other side of the doors, Lev pushed at the gate. It wouldn’t budge.

“The gate’s stuck!”

“Fuck! Hurry up!” Abby looked back and forth between the door and the direction the Infected were coming from.

“We’ll look for another way!” Yara said, and the two of them disappeared from view.

Abby tried to stay calm and prepared herself for the inevitable fight.

“They’re not going to leave me,” you said, drawing her attention. You held your knife at the ready, rolling your shoulders back.

She didn’t respond, not sure if she believed you.

“They won’t,” you reiterated.

“I hope you’re right, Prophet.” She offered one of the weapons from her stash. “You ever shot a gun before?”

You shook your head but accepted the firearm anyway.

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

What Abby hoped would only be a few Infected turned out to be an entire horde. Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and even a couple Shamblers.

You were fighting them off like a champ.

Seriously. She was impressed.

You’d kept the gun, watched her rushed demonstration on how to operate it, but ultimately chose to primarily stick with the dagger.

Both of you had been fighting for several minutes as you moved through the building. No sign of the other two Scars. Abby had pretty much resigned herself to needing to find her own way out.

She cleared the room she was in, lowering her weapon to take a breather.

You were in the next room, and it sounded like you had cleared that one out too.

The only warning Abby had before she felt the blow was you urgently shouting, “Wolf!”

A Stalker that she failed to notice had her pinned to the ground, knocking her rifle from her grip in the process.

It reared its head back as Abby struggled, fighting to get it off her.

A gunshot rang out, and the Infected slumped, lifeless.

She shoved it off her and sat up to see you standing there, borrowed gun still aimed and ready.

“Good girl!” Abby exclaimed, beaming up at you from where she sat on the floor.

Wait.

What the fuck?

She meant to say “good job”…

Actually, she hadn’t meant to say anything.

You lowered the weapon. Based on the look on your face, you were just as taken aback by her use of those words as Abby was. Although, she managed to keep it from showing on her face. Mostly.

She stood quickly and fumbled through a recovery. “Good shot. That was—I mean—It was a good… A good shot. Good job.”

You smiled softly at Abby’s obvious display of nerves, walking over to where her rifle had fallen when she was attacked.

You picked it up and returned it to her.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” you said, mimicking the teasing tone Abby had used when she said those same words to you earlier that night.

She made a face. Something that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement.

“Prophet! Over here!” came Lev’s quiet voice from the next room.

You shot Abby an I told you so look before the two of you ran after the sound.

----------------------------------------------------------------

When Yara collapsed, the Wolf picked her up and carried her.

You listened as she quietly comforted your dear friend, encouraging her to keep breathing and promising to find somewhere to rest soon.

Your heart felt soft for her in that moment.

Or maybe you were just exhausted.

Lev led the group with you in the back, gun drawn and alert to the best of your current abilities.

You entered a clearing, full of enormous metal boxes and small, raised buildings. All things from the Old World that you had never seen before and didn’t have words for.

The Wolf instructed Lev to start checking the doors of all the small buildings. It took a few tries before he found one that was open.

The inside was in noticeably better shape than any other structure you’d seen on the mainland, with a few simple, fully intact pieces of furniture.

You watched as the Wolf moved through the first small room and into the second, carefully setting Yara down on the couch. She went over to the windows, checking again to make sure the four of you hadn’t been followed.

When Yara began to slowly remove her overshirt, you were quick to help, being especially careful with her injured arm.

It was swollen and bright red from her elbow down to her fingertips, visibly mangled. You had to bite back a gasp.

Lev stood on the other side of the room, a horribly worried expression on his face.

It wouldn’t be helpful for you to panic now.

“Hey,” you said to him, light and encouraging, drawing his gaze to you and away from his hurt older sister. “It just needs to be set. Okay?”

You turned your eyes to the Wolf who was still hovering by the window. “You know how to do that?”

The face she made confirmed what you already knew. Yara needed much more than just for the arm to be set.

Still, the Wolf walked over, instructing Lev to cut the discarded overshirt into strips and telling Yara to lean back.

You helped her, kneeling on the floor by the side of the couch where her head lay, ready to assist in any way you could.

“I’m gonna move it, okay?” said the Wolf.

“Okay.”

They were both speaking so softly.

“You ready?” she asked.

Yara nodded, reaching her uninjured hand out for one of yours. You held it, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

The crunching noise the arm made as it was set nearly made you sick.

Yara let out a series of pained noises, panting and grunting. You used your free hand to gently brush the loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears.

You whispered that the worst was over, and that she would be okay now.

You didn’t know if that was true, but you hoped it comforted her a little.

The Wolf broke a leg off a wooden chair, took the newly cut strips of fabric that Lev offered, and went to work bracing the newly-set arm, using the chair leg as a splint.

Yara watched the Wolf’s face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The Wolf secured the last piece of cloth before she answered, meeting Yara’s gaze.

“Abby,” she said.

She stood, looking to Lev and then to you.

“I should go,” the Wolf—Abby—said.

You stood too, to walk her out.

Lev quickly filled in the space that you left, kneeling in the same spot and taking Yara’s waiting hand in his.

Abby grabbed her backpack and followed you into the first room, toward the door.

You paused, turning to face her.

“Are you—” You wanted to ask where she was going. What she would do next. Really, if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to go at all.

But you didn’t have the right to ask for any of those things, so instead you went with, “Are you okay?”

You gestured to your neck, meaning to indicate the dark, noose-shaped bruises that circled her own throat.

It felt like so long ago that she’d been hanging in front of you, unfortunate to find herself on the wrong end of your dagger. But, realistically, only a couple of hours had gone by.

She cleared her throat, her own fingers instinctively ghosting over the marks.

“Oh umm… Yeah. It’ll be fine.” She waited a beat before adding, “Thanks for cutting me down.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, considering it was technically your fault she needed to be cut down in the first place.

You settled on a nod and a tight smile.

She turned to go, twisting the doorhandle and stepping back out into the rain.

Before you could close the door behind her, she looked back and said, “This area gets a lot of traffic. Whatever shape she’s in…” Abby leaned closer, hand on the door frame, “You need to get out of here by tomorrow.”

Again, you nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer before she turned and walked down the steps.

You shut and locked the door.

----------------------------------------------------------------

As Abby walked away from the office trailer, she couldn’t help the images that came to mind.

She kept envisioning you and Lev and Yara, dead.

Hanged and gutted by the Scars.

Or shot by the WLF.

Or ripped to shreds by Infected.

She had real responsibilities. A friend to look for. A whole community counting on her.

She had a war to get back to.

But if she left now, would she always wonder about what happened to you?

The urge to stay near you—to protect you—was so overwhelming. She didn’t know where it was coming from or what she should do with it.

You were not safe, but she knew you were much safer with her.

Isaac had warned her that the first Scar Prophet had been able to make even the most dedicated soldiers turn on a dime. He said that with just a few carefully chosen words, she could make a person question where their loyalties lied.

It had seemed so ridiculous just that morning, but now you were doing the same thing to Abby.

You were in her head.

But this didn’t feel like manipulation.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to you, but it felt real. Natural. And entirely unintentional.

Or maybe she was reading you all wrong, and you really were a master manipulator.

Abby needed to make a decision. Because she was currently standing still in the pouring rain with the trailer still in view.

She chose to trust her gut.

And her gut was telling her to turn around. To stay with you.

Owen would have to wait.

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Note: Thank you to anyone who’s read all three chapters of this! The fact that literally anyone has is absolutely bonkers to me. I’ve already learned so much about myself as a writer since I started writing fics a couple weeks ago. For example, this week I learned that I DO NOT enjoy writing fight scenes… Unfortunately it was thoroughly unavoidable for this chapter. Regardless, I really hope it was interesting to read, and I’m looking forward to fleshing out the relationship between Abby and my reader more and more!

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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doe-eyed-fool · 8 months

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Fallen {Chapter One}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

Summery- Innocence meant nothing in a place like this. Here, innocence was weakness. It would only get you killed. And yet, it was craved by the most twisted and sinful of demons.

Innocence to them, was something to be tainted, corrupted, and ruined beyond saving. It gave them great pleasure to destroy that innocence.

And he was no different. To him, she was nothing more than a new form of entertainment. But even he, as demented and cruel as he was, could not ignore the feeling that slowly grew deep within his blackened heart.

"What have you done to me?"

I was once a woman of god, my faith unchanging and strong. Because of that, I was granted entry into the kingdom of heaven. However, it would not last.

I awoke in a dirty and dark alleyway, my whole body ached, my mind struggling to keep up. My eyes opened, and I was met with a most horrifying scene. Above me, in the blood red sky, was a giant pentagram that loomed over all. My heart sank upon realizing just where I was. Hell. I had landed myself in hell.

But, how? I was in heaven. I had earned it. I had been good. I've only ever been good. I was faithful and true. So why? I brought myself to a sit, as I did so, a sharp stab of agony shot up my back. I failed to hold back a cry of pain.

Looking back on myself, a gasp escaped me as I found the source of my pain. My wings were still there. Once neat soft white feathers, now messy and dirtied from the ground. But that was not the worse of it. What made my stomach lurch, what caused the horrible throbbing pain I could not ignore, was the broken joint on my left wing.

The bone jutting out from flesh, golden blood dripping down the feathers of my wing. The fact that I had wings at all was proof enough I actually was in heaven. That, and my long white and gold-trimmed dress. However, it only made my confusion grow. If I was in heaven, why am I here now?

I took a shaky breath before attempting to stand, however it would not happen so easily. I hissed out as I felt a sharpness in my legs. Looking down, I saw more of my blood leaking from the various cuts along my legs. One nasty deep gash in particular on my right calf. This wasn't good.

I was bound to be attacked by some loathsome demon if I didn't try to escape. Flying wasn't an option, and neither was walking it seemed. But if I didn't do something quick then-

"Well. What do we have here?"

My breath caught in my throat at the sudden voice. I looked up to see a rather tall, well dressed demon standing before me. His grin, filled with sharp teeth, made my skin crawl. His deep red eyes bore into my own. He looked at me as if I were his next meal, and in a place like this, I very well could be.

I kept my mouth shut, even if I wanted to talk, I couldn't bring myself to speak. So, he filled the silence himself. "I thought I had seen something a bit strange earlier. It's not everyday you see an angel falling from the sky! Well, not unless it's time for the yearly extermination. If that's what you're here for, I'm afraid your a tad too late." He said with a chuckle. Still I kept quiet, he continued.

"Though, you do not look like the usual exterminators. No, I don't think you are. How very interesting." He took a step closer to me. Finally my body reacted, I scramble to move back as he grew closer. My back hit the hard brick wall behind me, I wince at the pain I received by doing so.

My heart was beating out of my chest, tears gathering in my eyes. My reaction seemed to have been amusing to him, as his grin grew wider.

"Afraid?" He leans down, his face inches from my own. "You should be." I shut my eyes tightly as he moved his hand up to my face. Flinching as his clawed finger made contact with my skin. I felt him move a strand of my messily tangled hair out of my face, before his hand left me.

"A creature like you my dear, is just begging to be harmed in a place like this. Though, I don't entirely blame you. You appeared to be heavily injured." I dare to open my eyes, only to be met with his sharp gaze.

His eyes only left mine briefly to meet my broken wing, then down to my injured legs, then back up to my face. "Quite the fall you had." He chuckled. I only nod. That had to be right. I fell from heaven. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Why else would I be here? The demon stood straight again, looking over his shoulder for a moment before turning his attention back to me.

'I doubt I'll ever get an opportunity like this again.' He thought, his grin somehow growing even wider. "Tell me, what do you plan to do now? Surely you intend on leaving this horrid place, yes?" He questions. Of course I do. I don't want to be here any longer that I already have. I nod my head, words still failing me.

"It will be quite the challenge my dear. You can't fly, and no one leaves hell just like that." He says with a snap of his fingers. "What will you do?" An excellent question. What will I do? What could I do? Panic set in quickly as I realized that there was nothing I could do now. I was stuck here. I would never be able to leave this god forsaken place. The tears finally began to roll down my cheeks, my shoulders shook as I cried.

How could this have happened? Why was this happening? Perhaps I've done something wrong? Maybe I've upset god in some way? Is that why I'm here? I'm being punished? Is that it? The demon's voice caught my attention once more as he spoke.

"Oh, how I hate to see a lady cry." I could have sworn there was a hint of sincerity in his tone. But I would be a fool to think a demon could feel sympathy for anyone. "Perhaps, we should make a deal."

I wipe a few tears away before looking at him with a confused glance. "I'll try and find a way for you to return to heaven. And in return..." His expression grew dark and sinister. "All you have to do, is amuse me." Amuse him? My stomach churned at the thought of what a demon would find amusing.

I look up at the sky, the pentagram's glow stinging my eyes. Heaven was out of reach, but I yearned for nothing more than to return. The deal almost sounded tolerable. I look back at the demon and finally, I spoke.

"W-Will you hurt me?" My voice cracked. "Of course not!" The demon waved his hand, as if dismissing the thought. "I'm rather curious about you. And I can't have someone like you harmed. Your value topples almost over all here. Many demons would kill for a chance to obtain an angel such as yourself. That alone is enough for me to keep you in tact as much as possible." His words weren't comforting, that's for sure.

But he said he wouldn't hurt me. I think. I couldn't trust him, but what other choice do I have? I don't want to be stuck here forever. The demon offered his hand. "What do you say?" He asks as a faint green glow engulfed his hand.

I sigh before hesitantly taking his hand with my own. As our hands clasp, the glow engulfed mine as well and a sting could be felt throughout my palm causing me to wince. The glow grew brighter, I shut my eyes tightly to shield my eyes from it.

I missed the twisted smile from the demon, but I felt his hand tightening around my own slightly before the glow finally calmed down and went out. The demon let go of my hand, only to pick me up. I gasp as I felt myself being hoisted up into a bridal style carry.

I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I kept my gaze down at his chest. "Hold on tight." He warns me. And before I knew what was happening, I felt a rush flow throughout my body. It was almost like the feeling you'd get when going down a steep drop on a rollercoaster. And suddenly, we were in a new location.

I look around and take in my surroundings. There was a rather nice looking home before me. Well, I could consider it nice if it didn't look...haunted. I could have sworn I saw a shadow move in one of the many windows. Surrounding the home was a swamp, the water was infested with gators.

But not normal ones. These gators were far larger, their scales an inky black, multiple sets of eyes glow a deep red, and their teeth abnormally sharp and long, stained with the blood of I didn't know what. The plant life was unnatural as well. While they were alive like normal plants, they were sentient.

Looking for some unfortunate passerby to feast upon. This being proven by a demonic version of a frog hopping by one, only to be snatched up and ripped apart. I look away, not wanting to watch as the sound of crunching and squishing filled my ears. The bugs were abnormally large too, and just as carnivorous as the other creatures of the swamp.

"Home sweet home." The demon sighs before walking up the porch stairs. He walks in, the inside completely dark at first before he steps through the threshold. Like magic, light filled the home. And once again, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, shadows retreating into darkness wherever they could find it.

"Now, let's get you patched up." The demon says as he heads up the stairs. He brings me to his bedroom and sets me carefully on the surprisingly soft and comfortable bed.

I tried to keep still, as not to irritate my wing any further. But nothing could ease the pain, I winced and hissed out sharply as another throb jolted my wing. I could have started crying again it hurt so bad. The demon took note of that before moving to my left. I watched him carefully, wary of what he would do next. He said he would patch me up, while that confused me, I still didn't trust his word.

"This might hurt. But do try to keep still." He says before moving his hand over the broken bone. I move away fearfully, a foolish thing to do. I cried as more pain shot up my wing and back. "What did I just say?" The demon sighed.

"What are you going to do?" I ask sharply. He didn't have anything that could properly set the bone, nothing to ease my pain. Did he intend to force it back? "I'm going to heal it. But I need you to sit. Still." The demon said sternly. Still noticing my hesitation, he rolled his eyes. "I will try to make this less painful as possible. Now, are you going to do as I say? Or are you going to just sit there, still in pain?"

I sighed heavily before doing as I was told. I shut my eyes tightly after I watch him move his hand back. Suddenly I felt a shift in my wing joint, but no pain followed as I had expected. After a moment or two, Alastor moved his hand away.

"There we go. All better." The demon says softly. While I felt no pain, I never felt more light headed. My stress finally caught with me and felt I just might actually pass out. My body began to fall forwards, but the demon caught me before I could fall completely. I go limp in his arms, my eyes lids drooping. I heard him chuckle before I felt him moving my body, he gently laid me on my back.

I look up at him with tired eyes, his grin remained the same. I got the feeling he was enjoying this, it made me more sick to think about it. "Try and relax. I'll work on your legs next." He tells you as he moves his hand down to hover over them. I then heard him laugh, before I could question him he spoke.

"My, how rude of me. I've yet to introduce myself. I suppose I've gotten use to everyone knowing who I am, that it slipped my mind." The demon glances at me, he spoke his name with the most charming of tones.

"My name is Alastor."

Alastor? It was such a nice sounding name for a demon. "And who do I have the pleasure of knowing?" I took a shaky breath before answering with a shaky and cracked voice. "Y/n." Alastor's grin soften for a moment as he spoke my name. "Y/n. What a lovely name."

It felt strange to hear a demon speaking my name. It felt wrong. Though, it wasn't any worse than actually making a deal with him. I close my eyes, and begged god for forgiveness. I hope god could forgive me for what I've done.

I only do this to return to god's light. That's all. Please...please understand. The more I thought about that deal, the worse I felt. I didn't want to think about it, but it would always be there. In the back of my mind, will forever be the guilt of my choice.

And I could only hope that whatever this deal would entail, wouldn't be as bad as I fear it would be.

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel spoilers #fallen angel #angst

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savagewildnerness · 1 month

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An improvised love theme for Armand & Daniel & the sexiest bit of Devil’s Minion!

“Yet at other times, he burned for Armand as if for an elixir without which he could not go on. The dark energy that had fired him for four years was now missing. He dreamed Armand was near him; he awoke weeping stupidly. Then the morning would come and he would be sad but calm.

Then Armand had returned.

It was late, perhaps ten o'clock in the evening, and the sky, as it is so often in southern Italy, was a brilliant dark blue overhead. Daniel had been walking alone down the long road that leads from Pompeii proper to the Villa of the Mysteries, hoping no guards would come to drive him away.

As soon as he'd reached the ancient house, a stillness had descended. No guards here. No one living. Only the sudden silent appearance of Armand before the entrance. Armand again.

He'd come silently out of the shadows into the moonlight, a young boy in dirty jeans and worn denim jacket, and he had slipped his arm around Daniel and gently kissed Daniel's face. Such warm skin, full of the fresh blood of the kill. Daniel fancied he could smell it, the perfume of the living clinging to Armand still.

"You want to come into this house?" Armand had whispered. No locks ever kept Armand from anything. Daniel had been trembling, on the edge of tears. And why was that? So glad to see him, touch him, ah, damn him!

They had entered the dark, low-ceilinged rooms, the press of Armand's arm against Daniel's back oddly comforting. Ah, yes, this intimacy, because that's what it is, isn't it? You, my secret . .

Secret lover. Yes.

Then the realization had come to Daniel as they stood together in the ruined dining room with its famous murals of ritual flagellation barely visible in the dark: He isn't going to kill me after all. He isn't going to do it. Of course he won't make me what he is, but he isn't going to kill me. The dance will not end like that.

"But how could you not know such a thing," Armand had said, reading his thoughts. "I love you. If I hadn't grown to love you, I would have killed you before now, of course."

The moonlight poured through the wooden lattices. The lush figures of the murals came to life against their red backdrop, the color of dried blood.

Daniel stared hard at the creature before him, this thing that looked human and sounded human but was not. There was a horrid shift in his consciousness; he saw this being like a great insect, a monstrous evil predator who had devoured a million human lives. And yet he loved this thing. He loved its smooth white skin, its great dark brown eyes. He loved it not because it looked like a gentle, thoughtful young man, but because it was ghastly and awful and loathsome, and beautiful all at the same time. He loved it the way people love evil, because it thrills them to the core of their souls. Imagine, killing like that, just taking life any time you want it, just doing it, sinking your teeth into another and taking all that that person can possibly give.

Look at the garments he wore. Blue cotton shirt, brass-buttoned denim jacket. Where had he gotten them? Off a victim, yes, like taking out his knife and skinning the kill while it was still warm? No wonder they reeked of salt and blood, though none was visible. And the hair trimmed just as if it weren't going to grow out within twenty-four hours to its regular shoulder length. This is evil. This is illusion. This is what I want to be, which is why I cannot stand to look at him.

Armand's lips had moved in a soft, slightly concealed smile. And then his eyes had misted and closed. He had bent close to Daniel, pressed his lips to Daniel's neck.

And once again, as he had in a little room on Divisadero Street in San Francisco with the vampire Louis, Daniel felt the sharp teeth pierce the surface of his skin. Sudden pain and throbbing warmth. "Are you killing me finally?" He grew drowsy, on fire, filled with love. "Do it, yes."

But Armand had taken only a few droplets. He'd released Daniel and pressed gently on his shoulders, forcing Daniel down to his knees. Daniel had looked up to see the blood flowing from Armand's wrist. Great electric shocks had passed through Daniel at the taste of that blood. It had seemed in a flash that the city of Pompeii was full of a whispering, a crying, some vague and pulsing imprint of long-ago suffering and death. Thousands perishing in smoke and ash. Thousands dying together. Together. Daniel had clung to Armand. But the blood was gone. Only a taste-no more.

"You are mine, beautiful boy," Armand had said.”

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re-whump · 2 months

Text

Augusnippets Day 10 - False Execution

cw: death wish, vampire whumpee, (implied/impending humanish experimentation), stabbing

A turned hunter was a failure.

What else could they be called? The purpose of a hunter was to eliminate vampirism and they had allowed another of the undead parasites to spawn.

He had perfect access to his prey now. There was no need to hunt with the monster staring back at him in the mirror, but he couldn’t bring himself to strike. He was a coward. A disgrace. A mockery of his vows.

Eventually, his partner came to investigate his disappearance and inevitably put him out of his misery. He prepared himself—he did want the loathsome creature dead, he just couldn’t find the will the land the blow himself. He left a note on the door that explained the situation and would serve as his last words, then restrained himself as best he could. Hunger festered in him now, and he didn’t trust his own self control.

His partner was nearly silent as he made his way up to where the vampire waited. They greeted each other neutrally, as if this were any other hunt.

“Make it quick, please,” the vampire said as time dragged on.

The hunter nodded and pulled out a shining blade. The vampire closed his eyes and waited for the sharp blow to land. His chest exploded into pain and he gasped desperately, reflexive for another breath in his punctured lung.

But what twisted most heavily through his veins was dread, not pain. The searing pain was nothing compared to the icy truth that he was still breathing. Still thinking. Still alive.

“I’m just kidding, man, I’m not here to kill you,” the hunter said, sounding amused.

He withdrew his weapon from the vampire’s chest with a laugh. He ran a finger through the bloodless skin knitting itself together. The flesh roiled and pushed away the intrusion until it was as smooth as the day the ex-hunter had been born. The hunter pulled a length of silver chain from his case.

“Bossman says there are much better uses for a spawn as cooperative as you.”

#augusnippets #augusnippets day 10 #whump #my writing #again just kinda pushing it out to convince myself I can beat writers block

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enbyobeyme · 1 year

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Vessel of the Gods.

In which MC is a lovecraftian God

Old writing, takes place in the og obey me, GN reader. This was made when the I game had like 40ish lessons so keep that in mind

You aren’t fully human. You may not be human at all actually, but your disguise is good, the Gods made sure of that. Since the day of your creation, it has been your job to be a vessel, a catalyst for higher beings. The God who created you was a kind one who thought that you were meant for something greater, and took a liking to its design. You stood by their side reincarnation, after reincarnation.

You have seen horrors beyond comprehension, Gods in higher dimensions. You have experienced being many different creatures ranging from a 50 foot Lovecraftian with trillions of eyes to a simple cat that helped guide young heroes along their journeys to save the world.

It has always been your job to serve the gods and to be a vessel for their spirit, or power. You guide them, speak for them, and even hold balance across dimensions for the Gods..You have spoken to and housed many gods and deities in your body before. It’s nothing new to you. You’ve met many good gods who are all about virtue and thank you for allowing yourself to be a comprehensible vessel to communicate with others. You’ve also met loathsome gods that you regret not kicking out or even killing with their cruel, prideful ways. Some even give you blessings with immense power as thank-yous that stay even into your next reincarnation.

Reincarnation has its drawbacks, however. Sometimes your memory resets to protect you from other Gods who want to know your secrets. All you know is to do the job you are assigned. Your memory always returns to you at some point. Sometimes towards the end of your life. Sometimes immediately.

Luckily, you started your life in this dimension with your memories off the bat, and in a human body. Whilst trying to do the job you were assigned, you were summoned to the Devildom much to your surprise. Being surrounded by demons nothing new. What was new is being able to be summoned by such weak demons. Curiosity came over you and you wanted to stay to understand this world. Your God allowed you to explore and understand this realm and allowed you to do your job of communicating with The Horsemen on the side.

Whilst doing your duties in the Devildom as an exchange student you also contacted The Horsemen of this realm. Pestilence or Conquest as they’re also called came to talk to you first. They were a creature that disguised themself as a simple plague doctor. They came to you in your dreams. They talked about their life as a horseman, their duties. It was your job to appease them, but Pestilence was already appeased from you listening to their story. Nothing needed to be done.

Diavolo was getting suspicious. He felt… more than one presence whenever you were near. You just ignored him and avoided him the best you can as you continued with your job.

Death was met in the RAD Colosseum. They were a disembodied echo in the abyss of nothing. No physical form. Only a constantly transforming voice.

Lucifer always wondered why you seemed to hang out around there to take ‘phone calls’ he never heard any other voice on the phone.

Death just needed to be escorted to the Mausoleum. You did that easily. Mammon wondered why you wanted to explore the Mausoleum out of the blue.

Famine was a strange one. They disguised themself as a student, as their true gluttonous form was bigger than the devildom. She chose a feminine body to try to blend in but also stick out in the crowd of men you were always surrounded by. She invited you out on a ‘date’ to a more hidden side of town. Leviathan seemed to be jealous that you were going out to dinner with a girl. You felt bad for lying to him.

The minute you stepped into the building you were in another dimension. A huge dinner table stuffed to the brim with food. Famine was the opposite of Beel. She was always full and everyone around her lost their appetite, no matter how hungry they truly were. You both had a chat over dinner. She was kind and to the point. “I do not need anything. There is no need for me without an apocalypse,” you nodded “You only come with the aftermath of War don’t you?” “Yes… most of us do. War is the one who needs appeasing. War looms close over the Devildom. They are not even aware of it.”

That night you got the longest lecture from Asmodeus of all demons. You were gone for almost a full day. You really scared him you know? He thought your date had eaten you! You have to tell him everything. It killed you inside to feed him lies.

War was the only one that ‘possessed you’. In your head, War explained things how they were. If one mistake happens, all three realms would be involved in a devastating war. Your ‘death’ from Belphegor was bad enough, but now there is tension between Micheal and the Lords of the Devildom, along with you as well. You have pacts with all of them.

War was an odd one to house in your head. Their body was flickered between masculine and feminine, but every time you blinked you saw their true Lovecraft form.

War needed you to take them to Diavolo. War must stop this war, or this universe will fall apart.

The next day, you didn’t look like yourself at all. The aura you gave off was menacing and your eyes flickered like a fire. Lucifer knew at that moment that you weren’t you.

“I am sorry for lying to you all about what I am, but this is serious. War needs to speak with everyone.” Just like that, shadows seemed to surround you, and War began to speak. “There is a lot at stake. I need an audience with Diavolo. Now.”

In that moment, all the brothers were terrified of what you truly weren’t. You were far from human.

Lucifer

At first, he understandably very very pissed. You were lying this whole time? And not just any white lie, you made several bold-faced lies. Lucifer didn’t even want to be around you at first. It takes him a bit to understand why you lied

You were trying to protect them, and you were afraid they might hate you. You said something along those lines to him. Yes, you are technically human and you are in a weakened state since you are inside a human vessel, but still! He opened his heart to you, and you didn’t open yours.

After a while, it hits him. You’re a Lovecraft. That had feelings. Lovecraftians tend to be cruel. Lucifer remembers when you were first summoned how stiff and quiet you were. He also remembered that you seemed to hate the Devildom and not understand how things work socially. Mammon, oddly enough, still took a liking to you. You listened to him.

Lucifer thought you would make his precious little brothers sad at first. Honestly, Lucifer was going to threaten you if you tried anything. Then one day he saw you both in the RAD hall, you were smiling and trying your best to interact with Mammon, even if you didn’t really know how.

Lucifer realized that you truly did care about all of them. You weren’t a heartless liar using them, you cared so much about them that you (re)learned emotion.

Lucifer seeks you out after that. He can’t imagine how you feel. You both kinda ‘started over’ except this time, he got to know the real you. The two of you became even closer. You even show off some of the abilities you earned. (Sometimes you use some of your abilities to rejuvenate him and help him relax)

He’s proud to have such a powerful Lovecraft by his side. He supports you in your work and loves to hear all the tales you have to tell. If you ever pass, he will wait for you to return to him in your next life, no matter what form you take.

Mammon

YOU WHAT.

He’s the most hurt out of all of them. You and him were best friends before everyone else! How could you hide this from him? Were you also lying about being his friend? He forgives you pretty quickly once you explain yourself. You do care, you are his friend, that’s why you kept yourself hidden! “Imagine all the other Lovecrafts who might go after you if they knew you associated with me. I have a lot of enemies Mammon, and I would never forgive myself if they hurt you to get to me.”

Mammon fell even harder. He asks all about the Gods you met. He’s also fascinated by all the blessings, and runes on your body and always wants to show you off.

Loves all the cool abilities you have and your kindness. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t stop protecting you. Yeah, you’re strong but your human form is still weak. It’s sweet seeing how much he cares about you. He also tries to teach you more customs you aren’t used to.

Mammon has a lot of questions about your work too. Once he learns how dangerous it is, he wants you to stop. “You can die? And it’s normal to die on the job?” “Yes but it’s rare and I will always be reborn.”

Mammon knows you can’t simply quit your job and that you have to save the world and all that but he worries. He becomes more affectionate with you. Whenever you have to go out on a job, he always makes sure to spoil you a few days before you leave.

When you come back, especially if you look a bit roughed up, he’s in full nurse mode. He really does love you and always will.

Leviathan

Leviathan was both amazed and terrified when he first found out what you really were. He was quick to understand why you kept it hidden. If you were anything else he would have been ecstatic, but you were a Lovecraft, one of the most violent creatures in the universe. You’re his best friend, you weren’t going to try and hurt them… right?

Lovecrafts were known to take over dimensions and cause endless torture and agony for anyone that comes near them. How were you different? Those worries are soon pushed away when you come up and held him close, apologizing for lying but reassuring him that you did care for him. That’s his Henry…

He asks you to show off your abilities the most. “Ooh mimic that” “transform into this” “do the thing again” he’s in awe.

Honestly a bit jealous of your abilities but you’re his BEST FRIEND. Who else are best friends with an incomprehensible god-like being? He still doesn’t know how he got this lucky either.

Speak to your God and ask them to allow you to travel a few dimensions over… Leviathan is ready to propose right then and there when you bring him an interdimensional first edition copy of TSL.

Satan

He’s less terrified in the moment and more mesmerized. You? A Lovecraftian Vessel? For the elder gods?

Its a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to able to even get a glimpse at something this ancient and powerful, let alone talk to one. You may know or may know where to find all the secrets of the universe!

The realization kicks in after you and War have a private audience together where he’s left alone. You are a Lovecraftian. Lovecraftians are terrifying things with no compassion. Despite them not having empathy they will not hesitate to take over a universe if a fellow Lovecraft is harmed just to justify their cruelty. You could have just put on an act in front of them to gain their trust and end them while they’re most vulnerable.

Satan thinks back to every kiss you shared, every smile, every laugh- was that all a lie? Satan then remembers your development since you first came here, vs now. You even helped him mend his relationship with Lucifer. Those are not the actions of an evil Lovecraft.

When you come out and War leaves you, he gets caught up on what was said. He might as well gather information before he can confront you. He asks Diavolo everything. Satan is surprised at what he learns.

You don’t want anyone to get hurt? You want to save all three realms? You asked your God to stay here because you cared about them? Satan feels relieved but still needs to confront you. Satan doesn’t dance around the subject. “How do I know I can trust you?” “Because I was created with empathy..?” You cringed at your response, but what do you say? “Hmph… I guess I’ll trust you. For now” You just hugged him close for a long time listening to his heartbeat- you will never get over your fascination with mortals.

Satan asks a lot of questions like a giddy kid. “How’s your God like?” “How were you created?” “Why were you created?” “Why do you do your job?” “Do we know of your god?” ”What are you trying to achieve?” “What’s it like to reincarnate?”

He would love to meet a god or hop dimensions with you. Thankfully, your God helped you plan such an outing.

Asmodeus

EW. EW. EW. Lovecrafts are kind of ugly? How could he fall for one- well okay you’re an exception because you’re cute. Surprisingly, he’s the most chill with it? He’s more upset that you felt like you needed to hide.

Despite rumor spreading that you may just be some world-eating scum. He can sense your emotions easily. He felt how much you care about others. How much you cared for him. You are definitely not some world-eater and even if you were he wouldn’t let go of you that easily.

You were the only one who loved him for him and not his looks, You were the only other person who he loves as much as himself. You see him as kind, sweet, passionate- all things he has never heard before. You were rare. You loved him.

Asmodeus will also try to stick up for you against his other brothers or calm them with a ‘well they haven’t hurt us, have they?’ he truly believes you are not evil. He asks you a lot of questions once you feel better from dropping the bomb on everyone.

He tries to ask you more… meaningful questions. What is your home like? Are you happy here? Are you happy doing what you do? How are you holding up? It has been a long time since someone you these kinds of things.

Asmodeus loves your abilities and all the stories and beauty hacks you picked up over the years. He hears that your God takes some time to redesign you and come up with something you would also like. Asmo keeps you in mind every time he designs something. No matter what form you take he will always be prepared to have self-care days that you both enjoy. Even after a long day of dimension-hopping, he’ll run a bath for you.

You plan on surprising him with your shapeshifting ability someday. He did say that he wanted to date himself after all...

Beelzebub

So… your kind can potentially hurt his family. He’s very conflicted. On one hand, he understands why you kept yourself hidden, on another, your lie could have gone wrong. Hells, you were possessed by war. You speak to gods! Gods that might want to hurt demons!

Beelzebub gives you the benefit of the doubt. You did warn them and try to help their realms after all. You also helped his brother and chose to forgive his twin, despite what he did. There’s no way you would hurt his family.

Beelzebub also gets super protective of you. While making your way to the castle with War possessing you, other demons figured out quickly that you weren’t human. Rumors spread quickly. Rumors of you trying to kill the prince, of you being dangerous. Some demons even wanted to see your fall. Beelzebub speaks out against the rumors and comforts you.

“It’s okay I’m quite old you get used to it…” “You shouldn’t…” Beel doesn’t treat you any differently than before. You were family then, your family now. Beel is a bit more relieved that you’re stronger than you look.

You may be his new workout partner. With your abilities, you can help him get stronger, and also help with his hunger. Sometimes when he can’t sleep, you tell him stories of your past.

Being a dimensional being, you’re able to talk to your God and even the dead if they allow it. He cried when you were able to take him to see some past memories of Lilith in a different dimension. “She never blamed you, Beel. Even now, I can feel the love she felt for you.”

Belphegor

He didn’t like humans. He hates Lovecraftians. He also hates liars. But… he likes you… This was complicated. He doesn’t know how to feel. He tried to kill you, he lied to you. Why does he not know how to feel.

“MC… how are you related to Lilith?” “...” “MC tell me!” “I…” “TELL ME!”

You told him the truth. You traveled dimension through dimension. Where did Lilith go when she died? She was kicked out of heaven, became a human, and died with no way to hell. She came to your dimension- an infinite incomprehensible universe. She was a lonely spirit traveling where she met you.

You never met anyone like her, so brave and kind. You both got along well, she helped you with jobs, told you about her family and how much she loved all of them. How she missed them. Kindness towards you was rare, and you wanted to repay it. Your God also tried to help you repay it, you were their loyal subject. All that you could do, was to also give her the ability to reincarnate. So you did. Lilith can experience all kinds of universes and paths of life. Her soul rubbed off on you, hence why you are ‘related’ to her.

Belphegor wanted to try and kill you again in that moment. He knew he couldn’t but how dare you. How dare you not tell him. How dare you get to see her again? He was so, so jealous and would have attacked you if War possessed you again and held him still. Tears ran down his face and he screamed in frustration.

It takes a while after for him to calm down. He knows he acted out but he’s still racked with guilt and grief and he took it out on you- again. All he ever seems to do is hurt you. You came to him first, “She never, ever blamed you, Belphie. She loved you all so much…” Belphie eventually accepted it and for once, it’s like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He grabbed you and held you close to him, sobbing and apologizing over and over.

That same year as you walked the streets of Devildom along side Belphie, you felt a... Familiar energy. Belphegor looked over at you, worried something was wrong. You held out your hand to the small cat that approached you. “Welcome home, Lilith"

Diavolo

He was a bit… Terrified. At first. He is powerful, but Lovecrafts are a few dimensions above him. He has seen refugee demons from other dimensions whose worlds were corrupted and destroyed. His father warned him to not deal with Lovecrafts- they are beyond reason and not worth the headache no matter how powerful you were.

Diavolo had suspicions that you didn’t seem to act much like a human, he just assumed it was fear or shyness from being summoned. He should have put it together sooner...The strange references and ways of speaking, the strange energies within you, the ancient runes that covered his body. How foolish of him.

When we saw your hollow vessel you called a body, possessed by War itself he was put in shock from the energy you gave. “Diavolo. It has been too long. Come. Let’s talk.” The last time he has seen War is when he was a child. His father had many meetings with War during the Celestial War brewing at the time.

Diavolo sat upon his throne, Barbatos at his side protectively, and looked down at you- at War as they began to speak. “Your universe is on the brink of absolute destruction. Interdimensional corruption infests your world. It will destroy everything from the inside. Soon, war will start between all realms as the universe collapses. This Lovecraftian vessel was sent upon your realm to protect it… Please cooperate with them, lest there will be nothing left…”

Diavolo wanted to ask so much, but as soon as War came, he was gone. Your body felt limp, runes lit up and dulled as the soul of War left you. Diavolo stared down at you carefully, gold eyed staring holes into your head. Could he trust you?

“Tell me what you need,” he spoke in a dull, uncaring tone, it was simultaneously demanding and bored. You nodded, “Corruption roots its way into people first, transforming them into beasts from the inside. They get hostile and attack, spreading the disease. I tracked down the source. All I need is your permission to eliminate them.” Diavolo waved his hand dismissively. It’s surprising how cruel he can be, you don’t blame him.

Diavolo gave you permission and dismissed you to do what you must. As you left for a few days to clean up the Devildom. He had some soul searching to do for himself. He was conflicted. He was taught Lovecrafts were never to be trusted, yet here he was now letting one in the Devildom. It took him time to reflect on everything. Diavolo refused to see the world through his father’s lens. He abandoned his own people.

Diavolo goes with his heart and trusts you. Once you come back from your duty, he calls you to his office. Once you’re there he asks you to sit with him. You both speak for a long time, sharing stories from times forgotten. You both open up to each other more. Diavolo then goes silent, thinking, before he thanks you, voice wavering. You saved his people yet again. He is in your debt. The conversation for the rest of the night was nice. It was great to finally talk about your home after so many years away from it. He jokes about your Deity being the God of the Devildom.

Diavolo throws a party in your honor, being sure to show that he has united not two, not three, but four realms. Diavolo now has a Lovecraftian warrior on his side, and he also defends your honor when he hears rumors and slurs being thrown at you. His people are understandably terrified- but that doesn’t mean you should be punished for sins you haven’t committed.

Diavolo grows… softer for you. He finds your abilities amazing and loves to hear you rant about your God/Deity and your culture, your home. It’s all so fascinating to him. You kinda become a knight of the Devildom, keeping balance between dimensions. No matter what you may have to do, what you reincarnate into, or where you go, you will always have a home in the Devildom.

Barbatos

How interesting. He did not at all see this coming. Barbatos had his suspicions that there was more to you, but he never expected… this… His liege comes first, however, and Barbatos makes sure to keep a close eye on you as he gathers his thoughts. He has never felt any ill-will or bad intentions from you at any point, but it never hurt to be cautious. For some reason, he felt a little hurt when he did so.

Barbatos liked you, he fell for you. He rarely got close to anyone. It was rare for him to fall in love or even be friends with someone unless he knew them for years and here you were- able to make him melt within a year. He was fascinated with the effect you had on him- but also disgusted. Like he got… soft. It was so strange to be by his master’s side as you- no- War spoke prophecies through your body about the end of time. He felt… numb in a way. You both were so close.

Barbatos didn’t want to lose that- He already had his time-traveling abilities which he rarely used so he could actually enjoy life as it went and he was happy he didn’t use them when you were around. You genuinely surprised him and excited him. He knew you were different from other Lovecrafts- you had to be. Barbatos was greedy and was not planning to let you go so easily.

You proved him right when you did everything you could to unite the realms when you solved the brother’s family issues when you took time out of your day just to thank him. Here you were- yet again proving him right by trying to protect his home.

Barbatos never bothered or asked about the Lovecraftian side of you. It never mattered to him then, and it won’t matter now, but he does love it when you talk about the dimensions. He can even relate to it sometimes with his time travel powers. Barbatos never traits you any differently- only now he knows that you don’t need protection.

He knows how hard your job must be. Interacting with a bunch of powerful being dimensions above you. You were also a servant in a way. You both got close cause of that. It was nice complaining and letting loose in the presence of each other with no need to be professional. He has always found your abilities useful and will ask if you can help him with more strenuous tasks. “You can lift about a few hundred times your weight right? Can you help me relocate the statues in the old colosseum?”

You even one-time shapeshifted into Barbatos when he was sick. You turned off his watch and his alarm and took over his tasks for the day as Barbatos slept in. When he woke up- he panicked until he saw himself across the room. The doppelganger shifted back. “Please- rest more I’ll take over for today…” He is… In love...

It’s a secret between the two of you but sometimes you take him a few dimensions over to show him all the strange teas, ingredients, and spices the multiverse has to offer. He now has a secret garden that only a few know about, filled with all the gifts you have given him.

Barbatos knows that it will soon be time for you to leave this realm, and to be honest, he is not ready for it. Barbatos knows that your job is important and that you both will meet again. When you’re gone he spends a lot of time reminiscing in the garden and tending to the plants.

He notices that a bird has gotten in and is also tending to the plants. He can recognize your soul anywhere. So this is the form of your next life? No matter the reincarnation you always meet him in the secret garden, and he always welcomes you back into his heart.

Luke

Fear. If demons were terrifying- Lovecrafts were worse. Demons may embody sin but Lovecrafts make them. Lovecrafts are dangerous. He knows. There have been many horror stories of angels who have never returned from scouting- or warriors who go off to fight an interdimensional interloper, just to find out it’s a Lovecraft. Angels have their wings torn and their halos bent if they are lucky, but most of the time they just become a hollow shell of an angel- corrupted by the presence of such a high being. Some of them are even more incomprehensible than God himself.

You were a Lovecraft- a monster in Luke’s eyes. That broke his heart. You were a sibling to him- his best friend. And you- you are the enemy? All the times you both hung out, baked together, the time you protected him from Lucifer, ready to fight to defend him- was it all a lie to get him to trust you? He… He needs to talk to Simeon.

Simeon does not give him an answer. Simeon told him that he could tell Luke how to feel about you- it was up to him. Luke refused to believe you were evil. You couldn’t be! But he will admit. He is young. He doesn’t have experience with this kind of thing. He didn’t know much about the horsemen.

He overheard everyone talking about the Lovecraftian exchange student- even rumors that you were trying to save the realms- then more about wanting to destroy it. Luke wanted to get to the bottom of it. He didn’t care if it hurt- he wanted the truth.

Luke took up the courage to go up to you himself in your room. He held himself together until he saw you when the door opened- images of your possessed body and you in front of him- ready to die for him flashed into his head. He burst into tears and buried his face into your shirt, his hands balling into fists as he grabs your shirt.

You hugged him close to you. “It’s okay Luke, I’m here, I did swear to always look after you, right little bro?” He sobbed harder. “Y-you-you? They… They all said that you were e-evil! B-b-but I KNOW it’s not t-true, right?! I know it is not!” Luke was ugly sobbing at this point. You cradled his head in your hands and hold him.

You told him everything- from your home, your dimension, your job, your deity, your intentions, and everything he wanted to know. Luke held onto every word. “I swore to protect you- and that means your home as well.” “I knew it! You were looking after everyone!” Luke sniffles and hugs you closer. You were the best sibling anyone could ever have. He really looks up to you.

Luke doesn’t understand everything at first and he may need some explanation. Your powers fascinated him. You end up shapeshifting a lot to impress him, or telling some very weird recipes across dimensions that you both make together to see if it actually works (most of it can put Solomon’s cooking to shame. Seriously eldritch horrors need some taste buds.

Sometimes, you watch over him from above or disguise yourself as an alley cat to give him a small boost in emotion he gets from a wild cat “accidentally” guiding him to where he was supposed to go. It takes him some time to understand other gods. Is it strange he wants to meet yours?

You do take him to see your interdimensional home in the stars where your god lay. Luke was fascinated by all. The creepy but oddly cute creatures, the beautiful but also endless landscape, time didn’t feel real, and sometimes if he thought hard enough, the area around him changes.

Luke is very much conflicted with your job and reincarnations. On one hand, you don’t die, but on the other, your job is very hard. He gets kinda grumpy about it, and when it is time for you to reincarnate, it gives him a sense of happiness that no matter what form he takes, you will be there to cheer for him.

Simeon

Ah. That’s… concerning… Lovecraftians… He is not going to judge you yet. You haven’t done anything yet. It wasn’t fair to blame you for the atrocities that your kind have committed. He goes to Diavolo and Lucifer first, asking about what happened. When he realizes that you are in a way, a warlock or vessel, he needs some time to think about it.

He doesn’t believe your evil. An evil person would not have helped him nor Luke, let alone mend the brother relationship and try and protect the Devildom. You also put your life on the line to protect Luke. Even if you were evil in the past, you at least are trying to repent and get better and he would help with that.

Simeon goes to you, ignoring all the rumors and warnings spread about you. “Ah, hello there MC. How have you been holding up?” “You’re here just to see if the rumors are true, aren’t you?” Simeon frowned, “I know you aren’t anything like the rumors say you are. I came to check up on you- I can’t imagine how you feel…” You hugged Simeon, face pressed into his chest and your hands enjoying the warmth of his bare back.

Simeon does admit he wishes you were a bit more truthful, however, he doesn’t blame you after watching the fallout from the Devildom knowing. Simeon comforts you for a bit. He decided to talk to you for a bit, asking some questions to ease his curiosity. Watching your expression sadden when you mention your home, makes him realize how homesick you truly were.

Simeon asks a lot about your Deity and your abilities. He finds it all fascinating and finds himself writing a new book series based around the things you told him- he finds it inspiring and it’s a step in the direction of people accepting you.

In a way, he relates Seraphs, Archangels, and all those ranks to your job. Simeon can’t imagine the pressure you’re under and all you have seen over the years. You even tell him about your ability to host gods in your body which he would like to try out. It’s up to you to show him. You tell him stories about reincarnation, he hopes in the back of his mind that when it is time for your departure, you may become an angel in your next life with him.

Until then, he will stay by your side and support you when you come back from a rough job. Simeon heals up any wounds you may have and lets you rest. You often thank him back by helping him sneak out from the Celestial Realm to take a break in your realm where you both have no worries. He loves to see all the strange creatures and cultures in your lonely home. Maybe you may carry his soul with you when his time comes.

Solomon

He has no fear or worries upon learning of what you were. He is the opposite, in fact, Solomon knows that you won’t hurt anyone, and it isn’t his first time dealing with something like this either. You’re old and knowledgeable, you most definitely are powerful as well, a strong ally to have. Maybe he can make a pact with you?

Solomon is still concerned for you though, you are his friend after all. You do seem down from all attention on you. He knows, however, that having someone pity and coddles you must be frustrating. He instead bothers you in a very Solomon way. Solomon comes over with some… ‘food’ he made you and decides to gossip with you.

“You know, you must have knowledge and all types of stories to tell.” You both ended up dragging and gossiping about certain gods and goddesses. “Fuck Zeus bro, he couldn’t take a hit and kept trying to get inside me in more ways than one!” You both had good laughs and made a lot of old jokes only the two of you would understand.

Solomon waits for you to calm down before he asks with his smug tone “You know, I would love to make a pact with you…” “I’ll… Consider it.” He jokes about making a pact with you a lot, having a Deity Vessel under your control would be helpful, especially with your ability to communicate with gods. You also share with him bits of forgotten knowledge, lost in time. You also tell him ancient cooking techniques in hopes he gets the hint. (he doesnt)

You do end up making a pact with him at some point. Throughout the years, reincarnation, after reincarnation, he is always able to summon you to him once again and you never tire of his antics. Even if you don’t remember him at first, you always end up falling for him time and time again. You both become a bit well known among those who study magic. Stories and tales of a powerful wizard and the incomprehensible eldritch horror traveling together and saving universes and going on dates at coffee shops ran by angels are spread around. You both are legends and monsterfucker icons.

He starts to also ask for your help with things a lot more- “This Arcane book filled with ancient knowledge is written in Tounges? Can you read it?” “This spell was never recorded properly and has a lot of missing pieces, can you go over it with me, I feel like you may recognize this.”

You and Solomon also travel through dimensions together a lot. Sometimes he asks you to take him to your world or to go with you on a job when you have to deal with some gods. In a way, you both become apprentices to each other. Solomon also offers to help with your reincarnation, he has a few spells to help keep your soul in a certain domain…

Either way, he is always there for you, and when his time comes, you will be there for him, ready to guide him through your dimension.

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la-pheacienne · 4 months

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So I started rereading les mis, in french this time, and I'm sort of catching up to les mis letters (only sort of, for now, since I'm still at chapter 1.2.5 I think) and I do wanna talk about the title of the book because that title has fascinated me ever since I opened that book 14 years ago in its greek translation. So the greek translation of the title "les Misérables" mystified me. I think a big part of western languages have a variation of the word "misérable" in their vocabulary so the translation of the title is pretty much consistent (obviously not every western language, idk what happens with scandinavian translations or hungarian or russian for example). In greek we do not have the word "miserable" or "misery", we kind of use the word "mizeria" but only as a "western" variation of the greek word we have for misery, so we don't have the equivalent adjective. So the original greek translator needed to find a brand new adjective, in greek, to convey the meaning of the title, and honestly, what a task that is, finding the greek equivalent of probably the most iconic title in literature ever, just one word to encapsulate 1500 pages of text.

The word finally used is "Άθλιοι" (Athlioi) the plural form of "Athlios". It's an ancient greek word that is also commonly used in modern greek as is the case for a huge part of our vocabulary. So the ancient greek definition of "Athlioi" is "struggling, unhappy, wretched, miserable". In modern greek, the definition is more or less the same: "seedy, miserable, poor, terrible", except for the last word "terrible" that has an interesting connotation. The definition of "Athlioi" as terrible is an addition of modern greek. "Terrible" by itself maybe doesn't say much and it seems as a mere variation of the classic definition of Athlioi as "miserable, poor, wretched" etc. But from miserable and wretched to terrible there is an interesting leap. While "seedy, miserable, poor, terrible" are the english translations of the greek word "Athlioi" that I find on wordreference.com, I get very interesting results when I inverse the search, this time searching for the greek translation of the following english words (on wordreference or glosbe): despicable, nasty, vile, shady, appaling, loathsome, wicked, infamous, monstrous, horrible, lame, shabby, mangy, mean, vicious. You may have guessed it, all of the above are translated into "Athlios" in greek (among other words). The reason for that is that "Athlios" in modern greek has an extremely negative connotation. An "athlios" is not just a miserable wretched poor outcast. An "athlios" is a despicable human being, one that inspires disgust, one you should avoid in any case. A horrendous, vile, monstrous, hateful, creature. I am not sure if the word "Athlios" already had that definition at the time of the first greek translation (end of 19th century) but my bet is that it did, because that is what the word is primarily used for in Greece ever since I remember myself. When we use the word "Athlios" in greek now we rarely if ever talk about someone "miserable", "poor" or "wretched". We normally talk about someone or something despicable. If it's a person, 99% of the time this has a purely moral connotation aka, someone who is morally despicable. They could be a poor person, (a Thenardier type of vile individual) or they could be rich, doesn't matter really.

I am not sure if the word "misérable" or the english word "miserable" have this connotation. It is one thing to be wretched and totally another thing to be despicable and loathsome. Is this very close to the french word "misérable"? "Misérable" in french primarily means "pitiful, wretched", with one mention of "despicable", it is true. In Larousse however (the classic french dictionary) I cannot find one definition of "misérable" with the "vile, despicable" connotation that the word "Athlios" has. I am sure "misérable" can be used that way, and it can be translated that way in english, but vile and despicable are not the leading definition one thinks about when they encounter the word. When we use the word "misérable"/miserable, we normally do not immediately think of a despicable, vile, loathsome individual. So this choice of title by the greek translator takes some liberties. He could have used our greek word for "pitiful", "outcast" or one particular greek word we have for "scorned" that has a particular depth because it means scorned, neglected and forgotten by society all at the same time. Or he could have went for our word for "miserable" in the sense of "unhappy". All of these could have worked well enough. But he went for "Athlioi". Why? Athlioi is the only word that has a truly negative connotation for the morality of a person, of their moral value, and the way society percieves that moral value.

I got to the chapter "The Evening of a Day of Walking" where Valjean makes his first appearence. The english translation is this:

"It was difficult to encounter a wayfarer of more wretched appearance".

Then Hugo proceeds with a description of his appearance that is particularly unsettling, to say the least. He was literally dressed in rags with iron-shod shoes and he had holes in his clothes. At the end of the description he says:

"The sweat, the heat, the journey on foot, the dust, added I know not what sordid quality to this dilapidated whole".

So that guy is 1) certainly unhappy, 2) clearly wretched, 3) has a sordid quality and 4) a dilapidated look.

It is interesting that in french, the phrase "wretched appearance" is actually "aspect misérable". It is important to note this because this is the first time that the author gives us a description of a character that encapsulates what a "Misérable" according to the title actually is. Moving along, Valjean is not accepted in any inn or house and the people force him to leave because they are horrified by 1) his appearance and mainly 2) his profile as an ex convict that makes him a "Dangerous Man". "Dangerous Man" is literally written on his passport. A pitiful creature is maybe not that loathsome by itself, but a "Dangerous Man" is definitely something that you want to stay away from.

At the chapter "The Heroism of Passive Obedience" (1.2.3) Valjean enters the bishop's house and the bishop's sister sees him and describes him like this:

"He was hideous. It was a sinister apparition."

"Mademoiselle Baptistine turned round, beheld the man entering, and half started up in terror".

"Wretched" and "pitiful" cannot cover the impact this individual had on people, on society. That man was not just deeply unhappy, in a deplorable state, wretched and pitiful. That man was appaling. That man was loathsome. That man inspired horror, disgust, and intense, bone deep hatred. It is important to note this aspect of "misérable". The fear society has for the injustice it creates is so strong that it is far easier to dehumanize these individuals by slapping the label of "despicable", "vile", "loathsome" on them. It makes their total marginalisation easier because it justifies it. People are truly disgusted by and terrorised by Valjean. For society, there is a reason why that man is in a pathetic, deplorable, "miserable" state. It's because he is truly, irrevocably, morally hideous, loathsome and nasty. He is "dangerous". He truly is a monster inside out. And that particular manifestation of social misery is nicely conveyed by the word "Athlios" in my opinion.

#les miserables #aspa reads les mis #jean valjean #les mis letters #catching up #les mis translations #lm 1.2.3 #lm 1.2.1 #les misérables #aspa rambles #long post #the brick

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blackblooms · 26 days

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So, didnt have a lot of progress to talk about on my new game since i had taken about 2-3 weeks to work on other things, but heres some of the work i`ve been putting into the world map and struckture.

So here we have what i call "zone maps" which consist of rough drawings of what areas are planned and how they are placed and connected. Since the game is themed around fire and wilderness, most areas are fiery twists on common fantasy environments and explore the many forms that heat and fire can take.

Some notable areas are:

Great caldera/Caldera outskirts: (dark red) Since flamebearers are highly resistant to heat and fire, it was an interesting subversion for the first area of the game to be a volcano. Boiling ridge/Boiling caverns: (cyan) The water area of the game, featuring harsh cliffside battered by a raging sea and plenty of geysers and thermal vents.

Pyrewoods: (bright red) A perpetually burning forest. The trees have adapted a thick insulating bark to protect themselves from the flame. Ashen highlands: (pale grey) An expansive plateau, located above the smoke of the forest. Deposits of ashes from the forest and caldera, fertilize the ground, making it a suitable place to build fields and villages. Sundered plains: (bright orange) A deadly desert, with plenty of glass structures formed from the scorching heat battering the sand.

City of cynders/Charred city (brown) The capital of an ancient civilization, burnt to the ground in times long past. Now only rubbles of sandstone and glass remains, and many myths of how exactly this city may have fell...

Frostburn pass: A gnarly canyon where frost and flame meet. Located between the great caldera and the ashen highlands. Brimstone bogs (dark green) ADark, smouldering swamps, where monstrous creatures lurk. A place long abandoned by the flamebearers and left to rot. Fuming crags (purple) Toxic fumes emanate from ancient fissures in the ground, rendering this region extremely dangerous to korugues and flamebearers alike. In the distance, an old castle lurk, long abandoned by those who used to call it home.

The melting pot: A loathsome pit of molten sludge, the heart of a twisted curse that cannot be destroyed or contained...

- Since were giving some building here, lets also describes some faraway lands that exist i nthe lore, but wont be seen in the game. South west: Nameless islands The great sea house many archipelago, conquered by the descendent of the flamebearer of the sea. South east: The frozen continent A distant landmass, overtaken by the ruthless cold. Ruled by the descendent of the frostbearer who could channel its power into cold instead of flames. North west: The endless peaks Towering mountains, reaching higher than the eye can see. Conquered long ago by the flamebearer of the sky and her children. North: Desolated expanse The sundered plains make way for a great wasteland. Long ago, the flamebearer of earth crossed through the desert and was rumored to have found habitable land on the other side, but very few dared cross the waste to verify those claims. East: The dark lands Lush forests cover the landscape, but those lands have long been forbidden. It is said that none of those who ventured to the east, not even the eldest and strongest son of the original flamebearer, was ever heard from again. My goal with these was that i wanted to imply a much bigger world beyond what is seen in the game (compared to irredeamable, almost claustrophobic worldbuilding) This next game will have plenty of distant lands and families to speculate on. I probably just wont do much with them myself. Anyway, all that stuff is subject to change as i work on it. The maps i provided are already pretty inaccurate, but that just means there will be much to discover when the actual game comes out.

#blood&flames #game development #indiegamedev #solodev #screenshotsaturday #indie games #fantasy #indiedev #fantasy world #game design #fantasy maps #screenshot saturday #mythology #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #world building #high fantasy #volcano

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freesia-writes · 3 months

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Ch 16: Foreign Contaminant

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2.8k

Hunter let out a slow exhale, finger steadying on the trigger as the animals milled about near the river below. There were far too many young males in the herd, which had resulted in a great amount of fighting for dominance to determine the social hierarchy. While it was sometimes entertaining to watch, it gave him all the more reason to thin out the kod’yok as the females huddled nearby, ears flickering in mild irritation at the pervasive atmosphere the males had created. Their meat was always in demand at the butcher shop, so Hunter was grateful for the situation he now found himself in.

One male mounted another, bugling triumphantly before being quickly headbutted by another ambitious adolescent. The ruckus spooked everyone for a moment, scattering them for a few moments before they slowly reconvened. Hunter sighed, finding himself too distracted to just take the shot already.

“We could have been done an hour ago,” came Crosshair’s slithering words from beside him on the grassy knoll where they’d both posted up. “Do you always make it so miserably drawn-out?”

“Sorry,” Hunter mumbled. “Stuff on my mind. You didn’t have to come, you know.”

“I told you I wanted to shoot something.”

“Well, when that one singles himself out again,” Hunter replied, nodding toward the largest male, “You can go ahead.”

“I thought you have your process,” Crosshair remarked snidely.

“Yeah, well… Let’s just get it and go.”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the herd mingle and squabble, neither willing to admit how much they truly enjoyed the waiting. It was peaceful and quiet, the breeze bringing a hint of warmth that suggested an upcoming return to the more temperate weather on the island, and the sun had poked out from behind the clouds to provide a toasty blanket of light across the entire scene.

“How’s the observatory?” Hunter finally asked, voice barely audible in their shared space.

“The work is fine. The people are loathsome.”

“Naturally.”

“The Xyloan keeps praising me for following the island’s will and has tried to ‘read my face’ about fourteen times now. I’m going to smack her if she tries it again.”

“You are not.”

“Maybe not,” Crosshair said with a small smile, indulging in just the thought.

“What’s the deal with the Zygerrian?”

A visceral sound of disgust.

“That bad, huh?”

“He’s nothing like the rest of his people. Must have been dropped on his head as a baby.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing…” Hunter observed, tilting his head to sneak a glance at the side of Crosshair’s face for a second before returning his focus to the herd.

“It’s unnecessarily complex,” his brother explained, hissing his words with a particular vitriol. “He somehow broke free from their brainwashed sort of herd mentality and is just full of love and rainbows for all living creatures. He thinks everyone he crosses paths with is just wonderful.”

“Ah, yes. Sounds terrible.”

“It’s annoying.”

“Mmm.”

Silence fell for a while, Hunter mulling over all that his brother had been through and fighting a smirk at the sniper’s purported repulsion toward any sort of optimism or ebullience. But the Zygerrian’s positivity certainly seemed refreshing in comparison to the bitter, cynical types Crosshair had typically entertained since arriving on the island. Hunter didn’t think he was legitimately attracted to such harshness, but he still seemed to be working through the weight of his past and his own perceptions of his self-worth. Hunter was privately holding out hope for his brother to realize and accept the deep desire to care and be cared for.

“How’s your girlfriend?” Crosshair asked, putting just enough emphasis on the word to make it a verbal jab.

“Don’t call her that,” Hunter said, pushing aside the immediate questions in his mind. “And… it’s weird.”

The sniper remained silent, eyes lazily flickering from animal to animal as they cavorted about the hills below. Hunter was grateful for his unobtrusiveness that masqueraded as disinterest, giving time to gather his thoughts.

“I just have this nagging sense that she’s hiding something… Or… I don’t know. It can’t be as simple as it seems.”

“Why not?”

Now it was Hunter’s turn to be silenced, turning it over in his mind for a while before answering, “It just feels like there’s more to it.”

“Hm.”

“Little things,” he continued, “Like… Her past seems so… plain. Or she hints at stuff that happened but doesn’t share all of it…”

“And I’m sure you’ve shared everything with her, right?”

“No, but I have reasons not to,” Hunter deflected, “Would you go telling everything to your little Zygerrian friend?”

Crosshair sniffed, rolling his toothpick to the other side of his mouth in response.

“She finally invited me to her house,” Hunter started, interrupted by a click of the tongue from his brother.

“Nice.”

“Not like that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We just had dinner. But I could swear she had a bunch of stuff hidden… in the walls or another room or something… Metal, electronics, weapons maybe…” He saw Crosshair staring at the side of his head out of the corner of his eye and turned to face the sniper fully. “I know it sounds crazy. But something was there. And I didn’t know how to ask about it, but she said the house was just old… But that wouldn’t explain it at all…”

“No, it sounds completely reasonable,” Crosshair said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly Hunter… It sounds like you’re the one who’s hiding everything. Your own paranoia is tinting the way you see everything.” It was judgmental and dismissive, but it did give Hunter pause. Crosshair was uncannily insightful at times, but he could also be too quick to make up his mind without considering all the possibilities. Still, he’d been having a similarly difficult time when it came to adjusting to civilian life, leading Hunter to wonder if their struggles were not so different at their core. “It’s like you want to find skeletons in every closet because you’re too scared to just let yourself be happy.”

“Kriffing hell, Crosshair. You’re one to talk,” he exhaled, absolutely skewered by his brother’s words.

“We’re not talking about me, are we?”

“Fair enough.”

Crosshair turned back to the herd of kod’yok, who had stilled enough to provide a clear, clean shot at the big male. “You know what I think?” he asked, flipping a tiny switch on his rifle before lifting it to his eye. The gun shook a little, provoking a frustrated huff from the sniper, who quickly squeezed the trigger with a snarl. The animals sprang into action, scattering in alarm, and the target hobbled a few steps before collapsing beneath the quick follow-up shot from Hunter. An awkward moment passed between the two of them, Crosshair flinging his Firepuncher across his back in irritation before turning to Hunter to finish his thought.

“I think you two just need to bone.”

[end of scene, but this is absolutely the same vibe we’re channeling here, LOL]

* * *

Butcher duties wrapped up early, Hunter arrived at the school a little while before Omega’s class let out. He knew she didn’t need escorting to or from the school, but he’d missed her over the last month, and now he chuckled at how things had flipped since the start – sometimes he’d visit Lyra at her work with the excuse of seeing Omega and walking back down the mountain together. Venturing down the quiet hallway outside the administrative wing, he came to the back door of the offices and knocked quietly.

“Well hellooo,” Lyra said as she answered, inviting him in. Her office was in the back corner, wedged between some closets, conference rooms, and archives, with one small window that barely let enough light in. The office door was dark wood and usually kept mostly closed, and she’d made her inside space cozy enough with a few small lamps and plants that brought some life to the otherwise drab setting. Everything was a rich, deep brown, from her large L-shaped desk to the shelves all around it, and the two small chairs that sat across the open part of her desk were a drastically different color from the monotony of everything else (they were a dark burgundy).

“Hi,” Hunter said placidly, quickly hiding his surprise as he saw a man sitting in one of the two chairs when Lyra moved aside to return to her desk. Standing up a little straighter, he gave a curt nod to the fellow, who was sprawled out in quite the leisurely recline. His feet were stretched out straight in front of him, up against the front of her desk, and one arm stretched across the back of the other chair beside him while his other hand toyed idly with a small decorative cube that usually sat on one of her shelves.

“Afternoon,” the man said, barely flickering a glance in Hunter’s direction before returning his eyes to Lyra, who had sat primly in her chair with her shoulders angled away from both of them, toward the wall side of the desk where her folders and screens were. “So anyway, she keeps sending me all these comms, and they keep getting bolder and bolder, and pretty soon she’s totally naked, right? Hah. But then I see her the next day and she’s pissed, and I don’t know why because I was all about her… uh… exhibition. Turns out she’d sent one more, in an even saucier position… to the wrong person!”

“Oh no,” Lyra said halfheartedly, offering a small smile and empathetic expression while Hunter’s eyebrows crawled downward. This did not seem like normal work chatter, nor did it seem like something Lyra would be particularly inclined to hear. But the man continued, oblivious to the clear disinterest as he straightened his smart suit and ran a hand over his neat, wavy blonde hair.

“I know, right? Not like that was my fault. Silly little whore…” Hunter’s mouth fell open at that, and the man turned to him, throwing a look of camaraderie that shocked the clone even more. “Ya feel me?” he laughed, rolling his eyes before turning away. Too speechless to respond, Hunter was distracted by a tiny snicker from Lyra, who had snuck a peek at him over her shoulder and was reveling in his reaction. “So what, you got a meeting with this guy or somethin?” the man continued, tossing the wooden cube back onto her desk and shifting his position into a different yet equally man-spread arrangement.

“Ah… Yes,” Lyra nodded, turning to face the two and rising to her feet as though she’d just realized the solution to her problem. “Yes… This is the parent of one of our students. We need to sort out some details for the remainder of his daughter’s internship year.”

“And you’re not even gonna introduce me?” the man said, standing up with a grunt and thrusting a hand at Hunter. “Mullet,” he announced, grabbing Hunter’s hand from his side and shaking it obnoxiously. “Mullet Hanker.” The cough that came in response was a quick cover for the laugh that surprised even Hunter – he’d heard plenty of odd names over the years, but for some reason the particular sound of this one, which contrasted starkly with the man’s suave appearance, struck him as odd.

“Hunter,” he answered, stepping back as the man pushed past him to stand beside Lyra, taking her hand just as quickly and holding it for a second, brushing his thumb across her knuckles before giving it a little farewell shake. “Just ‘Hunter’, eh?” said Mullet, giving Lyra a wink before turning back to him, snapping him out of the intense focus he’d suddenly had on their hands. “Mysterioussss.” He winked and bumped Hunter’s shoulder jovially before heading for the door, giving Lyra a quick second to shoot an apologetic glance before turning back to Mullet. “Catch you later, Vetty.”

“See you,” she said, waving as he disappeared around the corner after pointing at her for a long moment with a waggle of his eyebrows. Hunter and Lyra stared at each other for a moment, speechless in the cavernous silence that remained after Mullet’s departure. With a quiet sigh, Lyra returned to her seat, leaning her forehead into a hand while her elbow rested on her desk. Hunter remained standing, alternating between cautious glances down the hall where the man had headed and curious looks at her.

“Uhh,” he began, realizing he had no idea where to go from there.

“I know,” was all she could say.

“What… What was that?”

“He oversees the administrative wing. So he pops in from time to time.”

“For… those kinds of updates?”

“Yep,” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Hunter with a softened look. “I think I’m one of the few staff members that he hasn’t slept with yet. Probably has some kind of personal conquest or somethin.” Hunter’s eyes narrowed, turning to peer back down the hall before moving a little further into Lyra’s office.

“Does he bother you?”

“I mean… whose boss doesn’t?”

“Yeah, but… You shouldn’t have to listen to that kind of stuff if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not worth the conflict,” Lyra shrugged, the corners of her mouth turning down a little. “Want to sit?”

Hunter looked at the chairs, close together in the space that Mullet had just occupied, and shook his head, inexplicably dissuaded. There was a sharpness to his voice that he didn’t intend as he replied. “I’m good… Omega will be out soon anyway.”

“Hey,” she said softly, getting back up to stand before him, wrapping her arms around herself a little self-consciously and resting her weight to one side. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck before mimicking her crossed arms. “Why?” he asked, lifting his chin to regard her impassively.

“Just seem a little agitated.” It wasn’t an accusation, but an observation with a bit of yearning behind it, as though she wished she could free him from any burdens that may plague him. Her gentle honesty lowered his walls a little, and he looked at the floor again, clearing his throat quietly.

“Weird feeling from that one, is all.”

“You’re not wrong there,” she agreed with a light sigh. “Oh, hey!” she said suddenly, turning back to her desk and pulling something from a readily-available space on a top shelf. Coming back into Hunter’s space, she opened her hand, revealing the small emergency beacon he’d given her a couple months into the school year. “Since Omega is going to be primarily away on internships for the rest of the term, did you want this back? She might want to keep it herself when she travels.”

“She was a little weird about it when I tried to give it to her,” Hunter admitted, glancing down at her hand but not moving to take it. “She’s on a bit of an ‘independence’ kick or something…”

Lyra guffawed loudly, clapping a hand over her mouth at his initial look of affront. “No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just…” she shook her head, a bit flustered and embarrassed now. “I’ve seen it a lot with kids this age. Well, they’re not even really kids anymore. They’re stretching their wings and finding their place in the world. And nothing is more offensive to that endeavor than someone trying to parent them, no matter how reasonable or well-meaning it may be.”

“Heh. That sounds about right,” he said slowly, a sense of validation momentary soothing his tumultuous concerns. His silence lasted a few extra seconds, his expression growing contemplative, and she tipped her head slightly, taking one tiny step closer and reaching out her free hand to place it on his forearm with feather-light apprehension. The warmth from her touch radiated up his arm and into his chest, and he slowly moved his eyes up to hers.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she said haltingly, a slight sparkle in her low voice, “No one knows what they’re doing. Kids don’t, parents don’t, even the ‘experts’ don’t. We’re all just doing the best we can with what we have… And just the way you are always there for her is the most important thing. In my idiot opinion, anyway.” Her dismissive finish was followed by a chuckle, but she nodded at him confidently, sealing her words with clear admiration.

“Well thanks,” he conceded, looking back down to her hands. “And uh… Why don’t you keep the beacon. For yourself…”

She followed his stare, bringing the little silver cylinder back up between them with an open palm again and considering it, as well as all that his words implied, then calmly closed her fingers around it, a small smile touching the corner of her mouth as she looked back up in time to see him gazing at her intently as he finished speaking.

“Just in case you ever need it.”

Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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