#Fallen deities au

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

A lil Fallen Deities AU Tsunagu :)

I don’t think I ever posted this one so here we go! Did this one in a different style than I usually do on paper 5 months ago lol

[kiribread]

a lil something i drew for @wanderingchocolateeclair's fallen deities au 💃

[kheprriverse]

Terminus/FD Lore!

The boys(tm) gossip not so subtly and find out Terminus’s hair changes colors based on the moon. (Also that he was blond once.)

Had this headcanon a bit ago, thought it’d be fun to draw smth for it. Then it turned into a big thing that took 4ish days to finish. Anyways FD with orange hair is just— MWAH chef’s kiss.

Stupid bonus below

Legend smacks the shit out of Hyrule

[mutedeclipse]

Disgraced Angel

design from yesterday!! in design hell for 2 days... why am i like this? I dunno.

[agirlwithmagicpals]

Lafargo Morningstar Reference

Name: larfargo Morningstar Age:a couple thousand years old

Species:fallen angel(ex-archangel)

Is actually quite intelligent and has been known by his personal peers to be rather adaptive

wants to be better than the entities thriving in heaven unless they want to join him

love’s traveling back and forth from hell to earth mostly for personal reasons of course

is actually pretty wise and somewhat independent despite being spiritually attached to his host(it’s Humphrey not Winnie now)

has fought all kinds of monsters and other deities both mortal and immortal

Neutral evil/ high ranking rebel

after the fall he realized that he was one of the few fallen angels that actually still somehow managed to keep they’re wings(none of the other seven deadly sins know that)

Is making some rather strange yet interesting decisions at the moment

[cookiepie111]

࿐Drink from the leche of sirens࿐

Synopsis - An injury könig comes across a lake and pretty nymph. Greek au könig x black nymph reader. No minors. Smut

Part 2 here

A/N-

An alternate to the fountain girl fic I wrote.

Think this might be the longest thing I've written. There is a Pinterest mood board here. Shout out to @cinnamonbunboii cause their comment inspired this fic. Please like and reblog!

Tags: @terra-713 @cinnamonbunboii @kneelingshadowsalome @bucca2

       𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Deities are petty beings, twisting the hearts of humans when things don't go their way. König and his army may have won the battle but the casualties were high, he himself was beat and bruised. Its just a game to them and what do you do when you're losing and angry, you flip out, over turn the board and scatter the pieces. Think of a new way to win while your opponent garthers up their fallen pieces.

Scattered by the wind, what a cliche but it works, in all the commotion the soldiers were separated, placed in every which direction, on land, and both above and below the heavens. How petty all this because you lost. Somehow this wasn't the worst part of könig's day just the final cherry on top the shitty Sunday the gods gave him. His lover betrayed him, separated from his allies, battered and bruised and now there's nothing around him but trees. If not for the situation and burning rage in his heart he'd find the place quite peaceful, beautiful even, a nice place to die.

The deeper könig went into the forest the more the atmosphere changed, trees bend and shift, covering the sky above. The slow dance of leaves and bright glow of the fireflies. All of it leading up to a lake in the clearing. It all felt too to unnatural to be real, like sweet honey leading him a trap. Pressing into the wound at his side, the sharp pain brought him back to his senses, this isn't the place to lose one's mind he'd need to keep his wits about him if he wanted to live.

Even if he doesn't want to accept it there's no denying this would be a beautiful place to die. Even now he hates himself for still thinking of her, even at the moment of his death she still has place in his mind. she'd love this place, a backdrop like this would only accentuate her beauty more.

He walked close to the lake feeling the trees shift around him again. Laying back on the trees bark sword placed on the ground.

The waters surface ripples altering könig to the figure in the lake, its shape he couldn't quite make out. A head, a person maybe. This place could be cursed, it wouldn't surprise him. He stares back never removing his eyes from them watching as they stay just below the water.

If he's intruded on some beings land they'll just have to put up with him or force him out. He's got enough strength for one last fight. It is after all the way of the warrior to go out fighting he thinks, unsteady as he pushes off the tree bark.

You can't remember the last time you saw another human here, they often end up with your older sister although you doubt they've all been this large and imposing. Even injured he carries himself very well. The cut in his stomach only causing him to hunch over, you doubt the blood covering him is his own.

Once at the water's edge the thoughts of battle quickly die down. It a woman in the water, human she is not but a woman still. The skin of human women doesn't glow or shine. Their skin isn't adorned with scales of greans and blue hues around their eyes nor does their hair shift and swirl like small currents atop the waters surface like yours. No those features that were that of nymph. Women of nature blessed with great beauty. And unfortunately for könig drowners of men.

His odds are about 50/50 he wouldn't drown so easily but that wasn't a risk he wanted to take, with his body is failing him now, heavy breaths as he falls back to the ground. Eyes still on the nymph at his front, she makes no move, just watching.

It takes a few moments for her to move a few more heavy breaths and groans from könig for her to lift from the water.

When she comes out to meet him she bare. Thin pieces of fabric dropping over her waist and chest slipping under her right breast, past her womanhood, more like an accessory one would add cause they thought it looked nice than a piece of clothing. Thick curly hair swirling around her body

To think he could still get hard at a time like this.

Drowning doesn't seem so bad now if it is by her hand.Maybe a kiss from them would send him peaceful into the afterlife.

She stood over him head tilling side from side,trying to figure the man out. He hasn't said anything, he doesn't shout or draw his sword like the other men she's seen. He's also taller, bigger, more.... solid than other men, gracing a hand down his arm. Kneeling beside him, the injury is worse than she thought. did one of the gods bring him here? Or did he just wonder here himself? You held your chin swaying on your heels deep in thought

König felt delirious, he's injured, lost and now there's a pretty nymph circling round, staring, pocking and prodding at him. If this was any other situation he'd take her in the moment. Hull her over his shoulder and fuck her till scream or blesses him, gives him heavenly children. But he's tired and weak, he can do nothing but watch as she frees his egear cock from his tunic.

He's never felt like this before, grunting and wincing under her touch. He's sure she's sucking the energy out of him.  Maybe its the bloodloss maybe it the fire at the groin the licking and kissing along his shaft causing the dizziness in him, eyes shut tight and panting as he comes closer to the edge but the release never comes. feeling her tongue stroke the entire length of him as she comes up.

The next moment for könig were pure bliss, something straight out of dream. To have her now Straddling him bouncing so eagerly on his cock, was a feeling he could never forget. The sweet stretch as she sank. It was frustrating not being able to touch her, She didn't move fast enough not for könig liking. He was too weak to set the pace, his hand only able to rest on the plush of her hip. Even if she used him like a toy könig couldn't help but throw his head back in pleasure at the squeeze of her soft walls.

Her hands explored the body under her, digging into the wounds, ignoring his hisses and complaints, pushing him back down before he finds the strength to push her off. It felt hot then numb, as she dug into his wounds.

With new found strength he bucked his hips, against her. The sound of their love making filling the forest air, his hands firmly at her hips to move her at a pace he found fit, fast and messy before emptying himself inside her.

When he finally came back down from the high he finds her form shake and ripple above him. The words die on his tongue, as her form melts down, and fades away into the water

He gets up able without stumbling this time walking straight finding himself back at the army base. König's honestly not sure if that really happened or if he was just crazy. He has nothing to show for the whole ordeal to prove it was real. He knows on the brink of the death the mind can conger all sorts of things to keep one alive but nothing could explain sleeping with a water nymph. he'd like to think he wasn't deranged...To imagine sleeping with being that would normally drown you but...

The only evidence he had was his body. The open wound in his stomach gone, his whole body intact even stronger than before. He'll think about this alot after wondering if you were really real. It would be best to get you out of his mind. Yet he sees you in the lakes and bodies of water and in the faces of women passing him by

You on the other hand couldn't believe your luck! Showing off the keepsake you'd got from the soldiers.

Red bracelet shining under the sun as you turned it on your wrist to show off to your sisters. Giggling and splashing round the waters edge. You're so lucky such a strong and handsome man!

"Wow what's his name".... "You did get his name right???" ... you didn't get his name. You didn't get his name! And honestly you're not sure which army he's with you can't tell the difference between the armours

[the-whispers-of-death]

Welcome to the Blog!

About me:

I'm Aaron, and as my bio states, I'm 21. My current hyper fixation is COD Modern Warfare 2 (Reboot) but I also write for my non-fandom OCs which is in "The Iriecester Realm Masterlist".

Before you read further, please note that this is an MDNI account (which means no minors and no ageless blogs). I will block whoever has an ageless blog or is a minor!

I've decided to redo my pinned post because this one will also have the masterlists of all the drabbles and one-shots I've written for the fandom, including the ones for my OCs "Stone", "Kali", "Ladder", "The Lions", the Iriecester/Non-Fandom OCs (Labeled as "The Iriecester Realm Masterlist") and "Python".

I am now accepting NSFW Requests! (EDIT: NSFW requests are now CLOSED! However, feel free to send SFW requests!)

Here are the rules for requesting NSFW.

My asks are open, so feel free to say hi or request a Drabble for a Reader I’ve already done or one you want to see!

Taken anon emojis: 🫧 anon,🐈‍⬛ anon, Freezer anon, Jester anon, 🎰 anon, 🍙 anon, 🪮 anon, 🍅 anon, 🥀 anon, 🥜 anon, 🔮 anon, 🩸anon, Lawyer anon, Rusty anon, Appletun anon, 🧼 anon, 💬 anon, 💫 anon, Hypeman anon, 🧃anon, Lurker anon

Masterlists:

First things first, I had to redo my masterlists because I had too many inline links. So, this had to be separated into individual masterlists.

This will be organized by drabbles first, then OC Masterlists, one-shots last. I will be doing my best to have them in order of when I posted them in their specific sections.

Note: Desi!Reader is just specific to just being Desi and not any other archetype of reader, though all of the reader drabbles are technically with a Desi!Reader because I've written them with me (a Desi man) in mind. Also, most of my Reader drabbles are written as gender-neutral (the ones that aren't are labeled as the specific gender on the masterlists) and the characters in the Drabbles are listed on the masterlists!

COD Characters x Reader (each Reader will specified in the specific masterlist) Masterlists:

Desi!Reader Asthmatic!Reader Closed Off!Reader Recluse!Reader Grumpy!Reader Bookworm!Reader Butcher!Reader Worshipper!Reader Deity!Reader Worshipper!Ghost Worshipper!Soap Fallen God!Ghost Bartender!Reader Pretend Boyfriend!Gaz Extremely Protective!Reader Old Friend!Reader Mindless Soldier!Reader Knight!Ghost Knight!Price COD AU: Life/Death Bear!Reader Bunny!Reader Puppy!Reader Feminine!Reader Best Friend!Soap Incubus!Reader Veteran!141 AU Sugar Daddy!Price Religious!Ghost COD AU: Beauty & the Beast Vigilante!Reader

COD OC "Stone" with the 141 Masterlist

COD OC "Stone" x Male!Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Kali" (Only Kali stuff) Masterlist

COD OC "Stone" x COD OC "Kali" Masterlist

COD OCs "The Lions" Masterlist

COD OC "Sarabi" x Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Kali" x Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Simba" x Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Ladder" with the 141 Masterlist

Mr. Silent & Mr. Grumpy AU Masterlist

The Iriecester Realm Masterlist

COD OC "Python" Masterlist

One-Shots

And here are the gender identities and sexualities of my OCs. And here are basic info posts for Hearrthrob, Hellstorm, and Death. Here is the list of Stone Variants.

This is not a complete list! It will be updated as time goes on!

[unboundprompts]

Fantasy Writing Prompts

↳ a masterpost for fantasy writing prompts

↳ (#) is from my collection of random prompts, (list) contains multiple prompts.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

Royalty/Medieval Prompts:

The Merchant (#21)

You Had One Order - Prince and Knight (#71)

Princess x Guard (list)

Princess x Knight (list)

The Handmaiden in the Maze (#102)

Royal Painter x Knight (list)

Prince x Prince (list)

Thief x Princess (list)

Non-Human Character Angst Prompts:

No-Longer Human Character Reuniting with Friends and Family Part 1 (list)

No-Longer Human Character Reuniting with Friends and Family Part 2 (list)

No-Longer Human Character Regretting What They've Become (list)

Non-Human Character Revealing Themselves (list)

Doctor Finding an Injured Non-Human Character (list)

Betrayed Your Kind (#123)

Vampire Prompts:

Fangs (#47)

The Vampire and the Girl on Floor 3 (#110)

Werewolf Prompts:

Remnants of Humanity (#169)

Mermaid / Siren Prompts:

Get in the Water (#151)

Phantom of the Deep (#160)

Lungs Filled with Salt (#174)

Gods, Angels, Demons, & Deities Prompts:

Nothing to Do with Fate (#9)

Fallen Angel Dialogue (list)

Fallen Angel and Fallen God (list)

Apotheosis (#112)

Asking for Favors (#137)

Favor From an Old God (#157)

The Gods of August (#173)

Shapeshifter Prompts:

Anything You Want Me to Be (#91)

Shapeshifter x Human (list)

Witch Prompts:

Witch x Fairy (list)

Angry in the Tavern (#158)

Guardian of the Old Ways (#161)

Fantasy Character Description Prompts:

How to Describe a Character with Wings

How to Describe a Character with Bug Wings

The Dream Walker (#140)

Modern Fantasy Prompts:

The Bartender (#23)

Turning to Stone (#105)

Mind Reader on Campus (#134)

Pockets Filled with Shadows (#141)

The Brain Implant (#148)

The Boy in the Library (#162)

Ghost Revealing Themselves to a Mortal (list)

Magical Object Prompts:

Blank Pages (#85)

The Door to Other Places (#139)

Fantasy Setting Prompts:

The Town Engulfed by Flames (#67)

Zombie Apocalypse AU (list)

Ideas for Earning Money in a Fantasy World (list)

Music in The Dark Wood (#138)

The Sun Stopped Setting (#164)

The Portal to Realms Unknown (#168)

Problems that May Occur in a Dystopian/Apocalyptic World

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I listened to some songs from Epic: The Musical, and because of that and one of you who asked about Greek god pantheon X-Men, well...

We're getting a new au...

In this au, the adult X-Men are the top seven or eight gods/goddesses/deities of a thriving civilization/continent/kset of kingdoms. They're old, very old, and very, very powerful. They don't have blood heirs, but they end up having the first demigod and hero, Reader...

Reader is their prodigy and student, learning how to fight and enact the gods' will, slaying humans and monsters alike, putting kings and queens into power, overthrowing empires as well as building new ones, and being blessed with powers, gifts, from whichever god they are under at the time...

But Reader, having sacrificed their entire childhood, their individuality, their free will and secret dreams, all for these beings, grow disillusioned...

And so The Fight breaks out, where Reader defies the gods, arguing with them, stating how much they've sacrificed and lost and had to give up all in their names'...

It ends with Reader turned to stone, a spear lodged straight through their chest and out their back, frozen for the next several centuries...

The Fight is lost knowledge, all any civilizations know is that Reader, Hero of Mutants, Sword of the Gods, First Demigod, was lost to time, fallen by an unknown hand and suffering an unknown fate... But every demigod to come after, each chosen hero and student, hopes to be anything like them. All they've ever heard were stories, tales of heroic rescues and daring defeats, of someone like them, going into the known and even the unknown, bringing justice and smiting the wicked, doing things no one had ever done before...

But, they soon are given a task: go to the Secret Temple, pay homage to the statue that waits there, then go back and let the gods know of what they'd done. It seemed simple enough. It should have been easy.

Yet...

When they get there...

The statue is gone...

All that is left is a spear, carved of stone and mineral, sharp as the thinnest knife, and dusty footprints scattered in the dust of old broken columns and shattered tiles...

(Someone or something freed Reader, Reader, starving and half-mad, stumbles out of the temple, out of the deep canyon/pit where it lies, and goes to figure out what the h*llfires is going on...) (and to eat some real food)

@sugar-soda @thewickedweiner @hermesserpent-stuff @golden-buddle @crowwithguns (I thought y'all might appreciate this au especially! What can I say? I've read the not-poem version of the Ilyiad and the Odyssey, I've read the entire first two arcs of Person Jackson, and have watched aniamrics and listened to slowed reverb of songs from Epic: The Musical. I might as well do this!)

[shygirl4991]

CHAPTER 1 DATE AND SPLIT

All art is done by @b-r-i-n-g-x be sure to check out her other stuff! Please do not repost art! Summary:

After the event of Splits into Three everything felt like things were back to normal, that is until Three’s boyfriend kicks down his front door announcing he has fallen under the same spell he did. Together they will learn the secret of the cherry potion and with SMG4 splits put an end to the evil gang's plan. Sequel to Split into Three Next Chapter

Tags: Action/Adventure, Romance, fluff, angst with a happy ending!, blood, character death, injury, SMG34 is canon, split au

SMG4 wakes up in a great mood, getting up he decides to check his phone to see if his boyfriend messaged him. He smiles as he looks at his phone, he never knew that being on cloud nine could feel so amazing. He hums reading over the text he received, letting out a soft giggle seeing it's an invite to go out. Putting his phone down he heads to the bathroom to get ready, as he watches his face his mind starts to wonder. He never thought that the day would come that he would end up falling for his ex rival, not to mention start dating the man.  He brushes his teeth thinking back on everything they went through together, the more he thought on it the more he saw the signs he missed back then. He spits out the paste and smiles at his reflection “Well we got there at the end!” With a nod he runs to his room and dresses up, with his iconic overalls on he throws on his hat and makes his way to Three’s coffee and bombs. 

Spade sighs as he watches the others leave the cafe, he starts to feel nervous and begins to walk around the cafe. The front door opens causing Spade to jump up, he turns to see Melony there waving at him with a bright smile. Spade places his hand on his chest “Oh fuck Seedy you scared the shit out of me, im guessing you already know whats happening?” She nods, giving him a determined look.  Seeing this he relaxes and lets out a soft smile, he couldn't help it, after everything they went through together he ended up seeing her like a daughter. He wondered if that was just him or the others felt it too, at that moment his eyes looked behind the fruit deity. There he saw Four walking over to the cafe, he panics and without another thought grabs Melony by her arm and tosses her over the counter to hide her. She screams as she lands on the floor, getting up, she pouts as she rubs her head. SMG4 walks in waving at Spade “Hey, thanks for inviting me so what's the plans for the day?” Melony peeks over the counter watching their interaction with a soft smile. Spade sighs as he points to the door. “Well if i remember correctly when we were looking for memes,  there was a carnival we didn't really get to enjoy.” he was thankful that Heart remembered the carnival it was the perfect distraction.  Hearing this, Four's eyes light up as he grabs Spades hand, he blushes at the contact then awkwardly looks to the side. Four smiles brightly before walking towards the door “I haven't been to the carnival in years…since you know i attempted to be a ringmaster.  I’m thankful the plan worked in the end and we got money for the castle!” Spade lets out an embarrassed chuckle remembering the bunny ears, not to mention the threat their boyfriend did with their browsing history. Spade had to make sure his original remembers to hide that better. 

They leave the cafe holding hands, it took everything in Spade not to push off the other man. He could feel his heart race from the simple contact, this was going to be a long day. Melony waited till the pair were a good step ahead to follow them, she slid on some sunglasses hoping SMG4 wont notice it was her.  The moment they arrived at the carnival Four let go of Spade to excitedly look at all the meme themed prizes. He then noticed a pink Eggdog on the wall of prizes, he knew what he had to do. He walks up to the game and smirks, all he had to do was get the ball into the baskets and score higher than thirty  points.  He slams some bills on the counter as he picks up the first ball, Spade seeing this let out a chuckle as he leans against a pole. SMG4 smiles at Spade as he spins the ball on his finger “See Three, you may have beaten me thanks to Luigi in that basketball match months ago. But here we are in my playing field, welcome to the SMG4 show!” Spade smiles as he rolls his eyes seeing the character Four was putting on “Alright stop being a fucking showman and throw that ball!” With a nod Four throws the ball and gets a few points. Seeing this he turns, giving a wink to his date, Spade's face goes red “Stop being a fucking show off and just focus on the game…baka.” 

Melony smiles seeing the couple interact, she always loved seeing her friends happy even if seeing the pair together made her wonder. She frowns as her mind wanders too thoughts on Axol, letting out a sigh she shakes the thoughts out her head. That's when she notices someone walking towards them, he slips his hand into his pocket taking out a dart gun. She glares at the man and half transforms as she rushes over, in a flash she knocks the weapon out of the pianta’s hand then points her sword at his neck. She takes a deep breath to hold back her rage “Why are you after Three and the others? WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE MY FRIENDS ALONE?!” the pianta chuckles as he reaches out to grab the sword. Her eyes go wide seeing him grab her sword “Something big is coming girly, we need that personality!” He then kicks Meloney away from him. She gasps as she gains her balance, she notices the blood on her sword and looks at the man running off.  He cut his hand attempting to escape as he kept running, he let out a laugh thinking he was free. Melony growls as she throws her sword at him, the sword goes through his shirt and pins him to the wall of a nearby store. She slowly walks up to the man glaring at him with full rage “I won't let anyone hurt my friends again!”

Four throws another ball ready for another point, only for it to hit the rim of the basket and fly back at him. He squeaks dodging the ball, Spade laughs at the sight “Oh my fuck did you choke? Only twenty points!?” he keeps laughing as SMG4 glares at him. Spade picks up the ball and smiles at Four flashing his sharp teeth “How pathetic, let a real man show you how it's done~” Four’s face goes bright red as he takes a step back. He stares at his boyfriend surprised, he didn't know the man had that kind of charm.  Spade gets in position and takes the shot, like nothing Spade scored fourty points. Four’s smile drops seeing the points, he wanted to show off to the man, He wanted his boyfriend to be impressed by his skill, except he looked like an idiot. He looks down, his hand begins to shake as his mind whispers to him ‘Do you think you deserve to date him after what you did?’ Spade was ready to pick a prize when he noticed from the corner of his eye SMG4 acting strange, so he turned and studied him. With a nod he pulls Four into a hug, SMG4 blushes from the unexpected affection “Hey idiot stop whatever it is your thinking on. If it's about the game, remember no one is perfect, pretty sure we learn this lesson.” 

SMG4 wraps his arms around Spade holding him tight till he feels the voices fade from his mind, he slowly lets go of Spade. He gives a small smile “Thanks, heh you seem to always know what to say.” Spade lets out a chuckle as he takes fake glasses off a stand and puts it on “I am a therapist you know! Need an ear, mine is all yours!” They both chuckle, noticing how he was acting he blushes taking the glasses off “Ahem let's move on.” Spade takes Four’s hand as they walk to a different game in the carnival, Melony lets out a sigh as she walks away from the unconscious pianta.

Seeing the couple moving she followed, looking around closely to make sure no one was following the pair, the more time passed the more of these strange pianta would appear. Melony was finding herself getting drained from all the combat, SMG3 wasn't joking when he told her how Spade needed to be watched over. She looks at the pair as they giggle holding hands, the thought of something happening to Spade could mean the end of SMG3 made her nervous. She always lost someone she loved, she can't lose the person she sees as a father figure. As the pair chatted enjoying the carnival, they stopped at another game where they had to shoot duck targets. The game reminded him of how Meggy and Tari became friends, he chuckles as he watches Spade pick up the toy gun ready to shoot. He blushes watching Spade fire the gun, something about the man’s smirk at this moment made his heart race. Suddenly the pair heard a crash, turning Four’s eyes widened seeing Melony. 

“HEY I'M PRETTY DONE WITH THE CARNIVAL HOW ABOUT GO BACK TO THE CAFE!” Spade grabs Four’s hand before the man could ask any questions. Spade couldn't help the murderous thoughts that invaded his mind, he wanted to go back there and show them they messed with the one personality. He turns and sees SMG4 looking at him confused on the sudden shift in the date, he sighs knowing he couldn't risk Four. Anything happens to this man and he would have to face Heart and his original. They arrive at the cafe, letting go of Four’s hand he panics trying to come up with an excuse on what happen “Look i… well you see….fuck.” SMG4 gives him a soft smile then giggles, Spade blinks at him confused on what was going on. Four takes his hand and taking a deep breath gives his hand a kiss as if he was some prince in a fairy tale, Spades face goes red at the action. “Don't worry Three, It was a lot and seeing our friends can bring down the mood. Honestly I'm just happy we were able to see what a date felt like, it was amazing!” Spade felt himself  go shy “Whatever not like I had fun or anything but since you want to…i guess we can go on another.” 

SMG4 smirks at spade and affectionately hits his shoulder “Always the tsundere huh three?” Seeing them safe at the cafe Melony let out a sigh of relief, she was extremely drained from all the fighting. She jumps when she feels a pat on her head, turning she sees it's a sad looking SMG3 “You did good Mel.” She smiles, feeling herself fall asleep, Three acts quick and catches her. He turns to look at the cafe “One more to go.” 

Spade was currently trying not to panic as he sat next to Four, the man was gushing about the video he was currently working on. The way the man's face lights up as he explains every detail was too much,  Spade swears his heart is ready to escape from his chest. Four then snaps his fingers, saving Spade from dying over the man's charms. Four gets up from his seat “Do you have left over coffee i can have? I need to pull an all-nighter if I want to make it before saturday!”  Spade waves his hand trying to stop his raging emotions “I’m sure there is a cup in the fridge you can have.” Four nods walking over to the fridge and seeing the cup, he grabs it and takes a sniff “Cherry? Didn't know he serves this kind of coffee, I bet this will taste amazing warmed up!” He walks up to Spade showing the cup “Thanks Three, guess that means you win the best boyfriend award.” He couldn't help teasing the man as he took a sip of the coffee.  Spade blushes and stands up glaring at Four “Ugh just shut it baka!” At that moment SMG4 felt strange as his eyes flickered pink, seeing Four off again Spade gently touched SMG4 “Hey are you okay?” Four looks up at Spade and smirks “Yes, but you know i think i can be better~”  Confused Spade decides to poke at the topic “Heh, was the date not enough?”  Four chuckles as his eyes flicker pink again “Please how could a date like that satisfy me, we need some spice!” Spade stands there more confused than before, seeing this Four grabs Spade’s overalls and kisses him. They pulled apart, both red in the face, Four looked around confused as to what happened.  Spade lets out a shy giggle “Didn't know coffee got you like that…”  SMG4 starts to panic as he realizes he just kissed his boyfriend, seeing the panic made Spade smirk.

He leans close making Four’s heart race “Well then Blue thanks for the fun date, enjoy your coffee~” the flirtatious tone surprised SMG4 making him dash out of the cafe flustered.

SMG4 sprints through the front doors of his castle, he lets out  a shaky sigh as he starts to feel sick. He makes his way to the bathroom, he looks at his reflection and sees them flickering different colors. He rubs his eyes to see them go purple to his iconic blue, he keeps staring waiting for something to change. After a few moments of no changes he lets out a sigh of relief, he must be getting sleepy after the events of the day. He leaves the bathroom and wanders into the kitchen, he takes out the coffee and pours it into a cup. He had to make sure to thank his partner for the coffee once the video was finished, with that thought the microwave beeps. 

His eyes begin to feel irritated as he rubs them again, taking out his phone he checks his reflection to see his eyes being red before going back to normal. He lets out a nervous chuckle “You are just tired Four, your eyes are not changing colors.” He takes out his warm cup of coffee out of the microwave, he walks into his room to get ready for a long night of editing. He chugs the coffee and slams the cup on the desk “Man Three really should make more cherry coffee, this is great!” He starts to edit his next video when suddenly he feels sick again, he gets up to splash water on his face only for the room to start spinning. He attempted to hold on to the wall only to slide down and hit the floor. “OH GOD WE KILLED HIM, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITHOUT AN ORIGINAL! OUR FRIENDS WILL HATE US!” one of the voices yelled in a panic. A gentle voice could be heard right after “Hey shhh, it's going to be okay he is just sleeping!” A small chuckle could be heard “That's right, we are the main character that has to mean we are all okay!” SMG4 didn't know how much time had passed since he heard the voices, he groaned, getting up and looking around the room. He couldn't remember when he decided to go to bed, letting out a sigh he wondered if he had a caffeine crash. Thinking over it he started to wonder if caffeine crashes could cause someone to hear voices, right when he was going to brush that thought aside he heard frantic typing next to him. 

He turns to the sound to see someone at his desk working on his video “It needs to be perfect, oh god if we mess this up we will lose subscribers.” SMG4 gets up and approaches the person at his desk, he spins the chair to see himself looking surprised. The other was dressed in grey, he had messy long hair along with bags under his eyes. The grey SMG4 smiles and hugs him “WE DIDN'T KILL YOU! THANK THE MEMES!” slowly he pulls away, SMG4 could only stare in shock as he watches the other him walking around the room. He stops and points to the bed “I put you in bed with the others, I mean we can't just leave you on the floor! AH MAN THIS IS ALL OUR FAULT!” he bites his nail trying to think over what to do. 

SMG4 takes the moment the other man looks away to dart out of the room, he needed help and there was no one else he trusted more than his partner. He slams open the cafe door scaring his boyfriend, he drops a cup behind the counter and glares at Four “The hell Blue can’t you…hey you okay?” Seeing the panic on SMG4's face, Three walks up and gently hugs him. After he felt Four stop shaking he let him go, Four nervously pointed to his castle “The lack of sleep is getting to me, I just saw someone that looked like me. He was just editing my videos!”  Hearing this, SMG3's face goes pale, he takes Four’s hand and walks over to the castle. The grey SMG4 was walking around in a panic, he didn't expect his original to run out and was worried something could happen to him.  Hearing the front door he turns, his eyes meeting red ones that make his heart race “Hello SMG3…i uh im sorry, i know…i shouldn't be here” his looks down messing with his sleeve. Seeing this SMG3 approaches gently “I…hm what are you to SMG4?” Three just said his goodbye to his own personalities,it hasn't even been more than twenty four hours and here he is face to face with another Four. His mind was racing on how this could be, the grey SMG4 looks away shyly “Im producer…im SMG4 well…his anxiety, his insecurity…” Hearing this Four looks at them confused “My what? Three, what is going on?! Ignoring his boyfriend's question, his focus was fully on the personality in front of him “I guess the others all ran off?” That line was the final push. Four grabs three pulling him away from producer “OTHERS?! What is happening Three!?” with a frown he looks at Producer. SMG3 lets out a sigh “ It’s a pretty long story, but you do need to hear it otherwise we are going to be stuck with a few more you.”  Producer sits on the floor ready for the story, seeing this, SMG4 joined listening to the story.

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Happy (almost over) Valentine’s Day!

Here, have a montage of doodles of my favourite two sets of gays from various aus <3

I usually post some proper drawings for Valentine’s Day, but college has been keeping me incredibly busy, so have these for now- (the cropping may be. Off. So they may need to be clicked on to view properly)

[[AUs in order: pirate au edgejeanist, masquerade au edgejeanist, modern devil(new au) ectoloader, fairground au(new au) edgejeanist, masquerade au edgejeanist (again.), fallen deities ectoloader <3]]

[kiribread]

Woooh!

Hehehe jeanist's fallen deities au design from @wanderingchocolateeclair >:)

[enden-agolor]

whoaaaaa I love your forest deity au :o

the postcard to beacontown looks like something that can be associated with the soundtrack "Beacontown freewalk." when Lukas arrives, it's just the soundtrack "Beacontown twisted"

AH YES SEE

YOU SEE THE VISION!!!

The old BeaconTown we once knew and loved is long gone, now simply a concept people around the world have fallen in love with, but have no real idea what's truly become of the infamous town. Its deteriorating without all the love it used to get, having never recovered after certain events. I imagine it would now have the "BeaconTown Twisted" track but slower, with a lot more corruption and distortion added to it. It was something in the back of my mind while I was writing it. That, and if Admin Jesse had a theme, it too would be this slow, haunting music made to sound uncomfortable but with BeaconTown leitmotifs added to the mix.

[mi-i-zori]

Lies of Apathy

CoD - Demon!AU - Demon!Ghost x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS : She should have started running a long time ago. But they’re one and the same. No matter how far she goes, she always comes back to him. And the demon knows how to find her.

WARNINGS : Heavy angst with very small comfort, allusions to self-harm, mentions of smut (with consent), blood, description of panic attacks. There are a lot of religious metaphors that come from many, many religions, but none of them is directly mentioned.

Author’s Note : This is something I originally wrote in my native language a while ago, but ended up getting lost in my files because I had no idea what to do with it. So I used it as both a translation and writing practice. Hope you like it !

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

Word Count : 12k+

Run. Dodge. Strike. Kill.

Beyond the turquoise shine of the firmament, a mayhem hides.

Waiting to awaken.

It longs for destruction, wishing to make our world and its peace a crude copy of the original Pandemonium. Lost in the soft, spectral feathers of a Fallen, a crimson suffering leaks, drops and runs, engraving its cruel wails into the bones of those who dare hear them. Those who only see it as an incarnation of love.

Oh, how tragic it can be, that imitation of kindness forging those who are supposed to guide the lost souls to the other side of the river ! In the blood of an Angel dance the names of countless minor deities bathing in their corrupted altruism - something the Ghost knows too well.

Sometimes, he remembers how he’s not supposed to be, for the memories of his origins have been erased by a never-ending hatred and despair.

In front of him, the young Hunter falls to her knees, facing the ruins of her own happiness. A peculiar fear tears a whimper from her knotted throat, and the idea of praying before this dilapidated shrine, created by a merciless Divine, leaves a rotten taste on what’s left of her tastebuds. A nameless exhaustion claws at her face, tries to drag her down the abyss of her subconscious. Her heart crumbles upon a way too familiar weight, and her breath gallops erratically in her lungs, her chest threatening to cave in under the ever-growing despair tainting her tears.

Knowing said despair is akin to drowning in its breast, to familiarise yourself with its screeching song and bury your bloodied eardrums among its decaying notes. In this very moment, a monster holds her with a renewed form of frenesy, and something inside of her cannot seem to wriggle out of the thorns covering its arms.

Around her, a baritone voice echoes from the darkness.

- Beautiful sight, it says. Small, vulnerable ya, prostrated in a field o’ ruins. ‘Ow many statues of ‘ope did ya build ‘ere, only for ‘em to instantly be destroyed ?

A familiar silhouette emerges from the nothingness facing her. She doesn’t answer to its usual sarcasm - instead, she allows her heart to bleed one more drop on the cracks littering the ground.

- Wot are ya prayin’ for, this time ? The entity asks as he stops next to her, crossing his arms on his chest. Maybe I can ‘elp.

His words awaken a wave of uncontrollable shivers in her guts. An violent earthquake, cold and cackling. Its growls bounce around her vocal cords as her nails dig into her palms.

- I’m not praying, she says from in-between her clenched teeth, her eyes falling upon the remnants of something she can’t bring herself to recognize. The Gods will never lift a finger when it comes to listening to a Fallen Soul.

The Ghost kneels before her crumpled form, the skull covering his face glinting in the darkness. A long time ago, seeing him like this, lowered at her own level, would have satisfied her ; showered her in a grandeur a part of her has always wished to know, laced with a taste of Paradise. Now, it’s nothing more than sickening. His smile, given away by the obvious crinkling of his eyes, brings a storm of Chaos in her already fractured mind, and she wonders if she’ll ever be able to forget this feeling. Trembling hands rise to grip the short strands of blonde hair of the Fallen, dragging him down to properly face her snarl.

- You poor, pitiful bastard. Why do you keep laughing at me as if it’s all your life has been reduced to ?

She wants her voice to be sharp and cruel ; but it only sounds lifeless, washed away by her exhaustion. The rough edges of a laugh bark inside the abyss of her skull. Her muscles suddenly tense like bowstrings, tightening her grip on his hair.

- Ya think Beasts were once made to live the grandest o’ lives ?

Her jaw snaps shut. Before she even realises it, her arms fall abruptly to her side, their strength devoured by the demon’s words.

- Or do ya think your Destiny is only made o’ ruins ?

The smile dancing in his eyes is much softer now, and it’s as if he had lost the usual malice lingering in his heart. Her own heart skips a beat at the sight, so out of place among such devastating surroundings. It’s a terrifying thing to point out, she thinks, probably the most acrid of all.

Blood covered lips twist in uncertain disgust at the thought.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Kill.

She hates him. She hates him. She hates him.

A metallic flavour melts on her tongue, crude and molten, burning her senses through the gut-wrenching wish to fearlessly face his playful, mocking truths. She can barely feel her limbs ; but she feels the bruises blooming on her skin, born from the war and chaos she keeps tearing through on the daily. In the Ghost’s eyes, the mix of such somber colours, full of meaning and ache, holds a beauty he’s never been able to name.

Her clothes get heavier under the amount of blood pooling through their fibres ; but so do his, and neither of them could tell which crimson belongs to whom. The thought carves a smile behind his mask - doesn’it it make it all so much more interesting ?

- One day, she snarls, you’ll be judged.

An endless cacophony of whistles drills through her head. She knows nothing of the issue of their fight ; but it won’t stop her from clawing at both her freedom and her peace. She fishes her weapon out of the decaying puddles rippling around her knees, and holds it at his throat.

- And I’ll bury you a thousands times under the weight lining the Jackal’s scales.

The entity looks at the blade with mocking interest. A spark of danger dances in his lifeless eyes, only growing brighter as they lock onto hers. He notices the way her features are pulled tight by a bottomless rage. Disarming her is simple, done in the blink of an eye, and he wonders if she’s really going down the path that will lead her to surrender. If she’ll do it willingly, or if she’s still going to fight - if so, how long do they have left ? He knows this question has also crossed her mind, sees it in the tremble of her hands. Even like this, now laying under him like a mouse under a wolf, he finds the young woman to be more than a mesmerizing sight.

She could easily be mistaken for some kind of divinity, he thinks, and it almost makes him laugh. The sounds, unfamiliar and rough, mimics the memory of what used to be a beating heart in the depths of his chest.

How long ago was it ? The last time he ever felt alive ?

Did he ever ?

Now, he’s supposed to be close to death - or a vessel for it, even. A being of rage and torment, made for walking in a world of destruction and pain, for leaving a path of decay in his wake. He feels it all, yet he isn’t allowed to die. A part of him probably wishes he was ; but he forgot about it since the moment it was sent to lay dormant beyond his consciousness. He doesn’t even know if he’ll ever be able to find it again. If it still exists.

His attention zeroes back in on the desperate soul laying in front of him. The armor she keeps covering herself with is has once again been reduced to shreds by their never-ending fights. There isn’t an inch of her skin that hasn’t been covered in dirt. He takes in the sight before lowering his face next to hers, his rough whisper floating in her ear.

- Oh, lil’ Snowflake.

I can’t wait.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Fight.

Tonight, her favourite restaurant is filled to the brim.

The happiness of her family’s voice gets lost in the cacophony floating through the room. Everything around her is blurred with exhaustion ; but his presence is crystal clear. Behind her, sitting in the shadows of a decorative curtain, the Ghost is patiently waiting for an opportunity to strike. The more time passes, the more easily she can see him in her mind. It’s a stupid game - one they both keep playing, wondering who will break and speak first. Allow the other in.

Maybe the day will come when they finally become one - simultaneously taking a bite of the poisoned apple.

This cruel temptation may be the reason why she’s cursed, she thinks, an invisible wall slowly forming between her world and the one spreading in front of her, filled with the laughter of her loved ones. Her life is made of painful memories, witnesses of a will to live that never really was. The idea that her future could be the same, tainted with the kind of horrors nobody else can see, is terrifying - injects even more corruption in her veins, lungs and bones. A rusty sword dangles above her neck, ready to cut one half of her existence and leave the other to suffer through a ruthless agony, trapped under the weight of its metallic carcass.

She’s not yet ready to drown in her own damnation, but the somber waters never cease to rise. The black tide finds pleasure in torturing her, filling her trachea to the brim before throwing her back to the surface. It cackles madly as she drags her disjointed puppet of a body on the shore, proud of the violence it keeps subjecting her to.

When she thinks about it, the young woman often realises how far back in time this curse goes. It seems to plunge its roots in her very origins, as if vowing to forever haunt her dreams with visions of madness, horrifying and useless prophecies that could have made sense had she been born in humanity’s most ancient of times. But the old Oracles are no more. So she swallows the twisted sights piling in her soul, and fills her daily life with empty smiles. A normality that was never hers.

Her demons were born alongside her. And they will never meet their end unless she succumbs to her own fall.

She saw many strange things and fought an equal amount of nightmares ; she shouldn’t allow any of this to affect her so badly. But it’s in her nature to think and feel, way too much even, which makes her an easy prey to the eyes of Those Who Fell. One of them trails behind her, melts within her shadow. He wants to devour her life even more than any of the others will, and refuse to let her breathe. He knows which string to pinch in order to make her fall, which melody to play to stir up her rage. He forces her to run within his -her- darkness, to get lost in its endless expanse, to confuse herself until she doesn’t know which path she is following anymore ; abandon or redemption. Like an offspring of Eris, he finds pleasure in throwing the apple of discord between her and the world she desperately tries to belong to.

His very presence used to terrify her. But time decided to drop some hatred in the bottomless goblet of her fears, birthing a futile perseverance at the bottom of her guts.

A few seconds fly past her eyes before the vacant chair to her left silently creaks under the invisible weight of the entity. As always when he manifests himself in public, she barely spares him a glance. A part of her wonders if he would act the same, should the roles be reversed. She came to find a peculiar kind of comfort in his freezing presence and the familiar thoughts he brings.

In front of her, her uncle barks out a laugh at a waiter’s joke, tearing her away from her thoughts. Leaning forward to examine the enticing content of her newly-delivered plate, she feels the demon do the same against her back, reminding her of his presence through the cacophony of her thoughts. Usually, she would curse him without hesitation. But right now, this is not something she can afford to do ; not when she has to play pretend in front of her family’s peace.

An invisible hand settles on her wrist as her free hand rises a spoonful of rice to her mouth, allowing the Ghost to measure her tired heartbeat. It sometimes launches itself to a full gallop whenever she has to speak or a sudden crash emerges from the restaurant’s kitchen. Following the same rhythm as the drumming in her ears. The bloodied melody always takes its time to fall back to a steadier beat, and the thoughts that follows hold a suffering the Ghost likes to decipher.

A secret message. A call for help, written in the trickiest of codes.

What a beautiful song, he thinks, burning with chaos ; and the young woman barely restrains the twist of her features when his mockery echoes in her already overflowing mind, threatening to worsen the migraine lingering around her skull.

How good is it to fight anyway ? She sometimes murmurs to herself, shutting off the cackles echoing in the back of her mind. Is the darkness really that bad ?

Maybe her feelings are getting the best of her. Maybe the idea of surrendering to the enemy’s claws comes from the loneliness nesting behind her heart, the one pushing her to more or less willingly seek the Ghost’s company. Maybe she’s simply imagining the spark of sympathy that sometimes dances in his gaze. A part of her insists that there can’t be any light without darkness, and vice versa ; but maybe she’s just reading in-between lines that don’t even exist.

Maybe all these thoughts are the result of another manipulative ambush orchestrated by her demons.

To hell with all those beings made of impurity and fake divinity ! She exclaims silently while laughing at a story she didn’t really hear. Those monsters corrupting the innocents’ dreams, immolating them with waves upon waves of sinful flames, leaving a salty, rotten taste on the remnants of their tongues ! They find happiness in Their victims’ despair, cooing at the ruins of their broken hopes, recalling the misadventures of Icarus and the other mortals They disgraced with Their attention. Be careful to not burn yourself, they cackle and rasp. The phoenix went extinct eons ago ; it’s now impossible to come back from your ashes.

Lie, little dream, lie, the Divine laughs ceaselessly as she surrenders herself to a hopeless optimism. Why not hide yourself behind an illusion ?

Lie, little dream, lie. Why not become a nightmare ?

Run. Dodge. Strike. Fight.

Sometimes, she wonders if her throat isn’t laced with a red string - the kind that, one day, will inevitably be the end of her.

She often turns around to catch a glimpse of it, in an elusive reflection in the mirror, or in the corner of her vision. She read dozens of stories worshiping it as the proof that true love is far from being a myth, saying that seeing it means one’s soulmate is nearby. But only in dreams can such things really exist.

And, sometimes, even dreams can lie.

For the spectre of her destiny created the thread with a mix of love and hate, of strength and cowardice ; a foreign intimacy made to drown them as one. The kind of thing that, should she ever share it with the world, would only be the source of laughter and disdain. She would probably be punished for her lack of gratitude for the life she was given.

Each breath is constantly filled with a bloodcurdling fear of simply existing. Her body never ceases to quake, trapping air in the expanse of her lungs and struggling to let it out. A thousand bear-traps snap at her flesh as she tries to keep pursuing her future, this vision she never really manages to see clearly. She sometimes think about tightening the string around her throat, deepen its colour with the moisture of her own blood ; yet it seems content with just grazing her skin in a satire of love, constantly feeding the frustration nestled in her breast. She never knows if it will ever be merciful enough to slash her neck open.

The Ghost holding the other side of the crimson line is dangerous, murmurs a voice resembling her own. One wrong move would be enough for him to send her over the edge. A clumsy step to the side. A benevolent mistake.

She often notices the small knot clashing with the dull porcelain of his skin. He likes teasing her by wrapping the string around his palm, adding enough pressure to have it leave a rugged caress on her neck ; to remind her of its presence. She loathes the cruel smile that carves his face open when he catches her off-guard, causing her to lift her hand towards her own knot.

She despises them all : him, the world, her Destiny. And she hates her own inability to get rid of the miasma plaguing her mind ; the way her empathy whimpers whenever her eyes follow the never-ending scars mapping the body of the Ghost ; the whispers that make her realise how similar they are to one another.

They are nothing more than two sinners looking for a reason to live.

Looking for redemption.

- Ya know we’ll always be bound to each other, Snowflake, the entity says, cackling in her ear. Why do ya always try to ruin whot canno’ be destroyed ?

Her blood boils as she presses her frozen palms against his throat with a snarl, as if trying to force him into silence by imitating the thread caging her own pulse. She knows how futile it looks, knows the fruits born from this endeavour will hold the bitterness of her failure. Yet she refuses to crumble under the mocking weight of his words, for it would be surrendering to the way this rotten world keeps trying to send her into exile.

The gravel of his voice resonates against her palms.

- No’ tired of fightin’ a ghost ?

Her teeth sharpen into her mouth as he coils an arm around her waist, locking her body against his. She can’t stop a shiver from rolling down her spine ; and, unable to decide if she can really allow herself to savour the frozen warmth of his skin, her fingers tighten around his breath. His Adam’s apple makes a mould of its own shape in the crevices of her hands.

Yet he doesn’t even flinch.

- ‘Ow many times did you try to run away from me, darlin’ ? To make me fall, only to fail ?

- Shut up.

- Wouldn’t take much for us to bend this world to our will. Think abou’ it : we could face ‘em, ‘and in ‘and, laugh at ‘em until our voices break. Take the clay they used to create their dreams with and burn everythin’ with ours.

- Shut. The fuck. Up !

Yet no amount of resistance seems to tarnish his fantasies of despair. She barely has the time to blink before he slips behind her back, his breath burning incandescent holes against her ear. His hollow heart beats silently against her spine - and her arms fall limp against her sides, getting tangled with the crimson rope circling around them.

- We could make our own miracles, he whispers, never letting go of his decaying thoughts.

A broken cackle tears through her clenched teeth.

- So now you want to play like a God ?

One of his hands, torn open by countless cursed knots, comes to circle the neck of his prey. His smile drips into the passion lining his voice, and she can almost feel him against her cheek as his massive frame leans over her shoulders. Their spines could fuse with each other without her even realising it, she thinks, feeling her back crack under her demon’s weight. She wonder if they are now worthy of the crumbling statues haunting the temple of her mind.

- Why no’ ? He says, and her legs suddenly go numb.

The Ghost breaks her fall without any effort, taking advantage of her now lethargic state to hold her tight against his heart. He presses a kiss against her cheek, slowly savouring the taste of a frustrated tear.

- Why couldn’t we be our own Divine ?

Crimson now runs towards the very center of her soul, and she can’t do anything but dive into the motlen marble of the Ghost’s eyes.

Another fight is coming to an end.

Her human heart pumps with an overjoyed frenesy as its end nears once more, but the Hunter is far from glad as she realises said end is nothing more than an illusion coated in sulfur. The entity can see the suffering dancing in her eyes, now reddened by the tears she refuses to set free. The Fates could slice their mutual despair open with a laugh whenever they want ; but they have yet to do so, and he wonders if they enjoy watching the both of them struggle to stay afloat.

- Slowly now, he whispers, slightly loosening his grip to erase the dull ache throbbing in-between her ribs. Wouldn’t be wise to exhaust yourself withou’ me.

A part of him would probably qualify this role of his of Apathy, or Disinterest ; bury himself in a litany of lies to play the perfect villain, always finding a new excuse to justify the satisfaction he gets out of it all. Try to convince himself of how none of this, her, Them, deserve even a shred of his attention. But he knows that, somewhere in what’s left of his angelic heart, slumbers the reality of a longing, a thirst for love and touch he refuses to see. And she knows it too.

He silences the feeling again, covering it with words dripping with his own broken kind of sarcasm.

- This world doesn’t make any sense if you’re not ‘ere.

A sickening growl shakes her guts as she takes in what she refuses to hear. It dies before reaching her lips.

- What a liar, she grumbles, her voice and mind fading more and more with each syllable. You’re just a fucking liar.

The smile he offers her is nothing short of carnivorous, and through it, she could almost make out the virtuous remnants of what used to be his soul. He presses a searing kiss over the bloodied foundation covering her shoulder, incredibly soft despite the sharp, mesmerizing coldness haunting his each and every word.

- C’mon, lil’ Hunter. Give up.

And this time again, the taste of victory flows bitterly against his tongue.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Choke.

When she opens her eyes, her room is nothing but silence, and the chaos of her bed seems covered in a thin layer of ice.

Her entire body is being crushed by an invisible weight as countless shivering waves run along her skin. A choir of ghosts dance in the corner of her vision, their laughter echoing through the walls of her skull. A frozen, corrupted substance flows through her still slumbering veins.

Why is it so cold ?

Her breath quickens as she fights to keep a semblance of control over the ruins of her mind. A sea of urchins is tearing her trachea apart, and she would love to feel her hands smash their spikes through her throat - yet nothing seems to even think of taking pity on her. A river slowly starts running down her frozen cheeks, its flow carrying her thoughts away like a hurricane would a twig, as if trying to drown her in her own mind.

An earthquake suddenly takes over the marble of her hands, and she doesn’t know if it is caused by the ambiant cold or the thunder wreaking havoc inside her ribcage. The magma that was once slumbering in her chest is now trying to escape through her every pore ; and it burns, scorches her insides over and over again as the volcano bursts along with her tears, threatening to carve a new rift on the surface of her heart.

Crushed by her ribs, her lungs refuse to work properly. A pungent breath bites through her bones, as if trying to corrupt even the marrow hiding behind their calcified walls. Her own existence is hoping to tear the guts out of her humanity’s rotting corpse. The decline of a heart filled with despair is tragic enough to become the muse of countless poets and their sonnets ; yet there’s no glory in the mourning of what we once used to be, she thinks, especially when Life itself drinks our tears with a crooked smile painted on its mask of comedy.

Next to her, the mattress sinks. Her eyes, burned by the salt of her tears, can barely make out the dark silhouette leaning over her ; but she doesn’t need them to feel and know who it is. The Ghost lays a burning hand on her cheek, and something inside of her desperately tries to anchor itself to this touch she subconsciously learned to look for amidst the storm.

A somber look covers the entity’s features as his fingers meet the ice of her hands. She’s a warrior ; one he’s used to fight almost every single day. Seeing her in this state is almost disturbing, for he quickly realises there is nothing left of her usual hostility. The Flood swallowed it all.

For once, he’s not the source of her distress, and this train of thought leaves a strange feeling in its wake. Is it rage ? Jealousy ? A mix of both ? It doesn’t matter. The Divine is not allowed to toy with a prey that isn’t Its own.

She barely has the strength to utter a single sound as he takes hold of the fragility of her fingers to bring them to his own neck. The mocking spectres dancing around them suddenly cease all movement. They even seem to disappear the second she starts feeling the echo of a pulse under the scars littering his skin, the confusing proof of the decomposing existence of a life filled with darkness. Its rhythm is slow, silent, ghostly. It gently lulls her mind, offering a blessed shelter against the violent winds.

Her own demon tries to hold her head out of the water ; a situation that would have made her laugh had her throat not be so parched.

- What did it taste like, she finally croaks out as her hand ghosts over his skin, the despair that made you fall ?

Was it similar to the fear haunting the surface of my lips ? Will you end up smearing it on my tongue to break what might be left of my humanity ? Will you be seated on the Emperor’s throne on the highest part of the infernal Coliseum in the middle of which I will inevitably be forsaken ?

Or will I be the one to guide you towards the light ? Will I be able to let you taste the ambrosia of peace I keep looking for ? And if it indeed ends up touching your lips, will I even realise it ?

- Like my own blood, the Ghost says, and she notices the peculiar softness that has replaced the usual sarcasm tainting his voice. Wan’ to try it ?

The kiss he offers her is like a cruel salvation ; a source of comfort immediately shattered by waves of chaos blooming into her soul. It leaves a sour taste on her tongue, akin to a tragedy leaving a trail of weeping arteries and broken bones in its wake. Like the smoking remnants of a battlefield, she thinks, witnessing the horrors she went through ; the nightmares haunting her sleep. A series of erratic visions displayed on the dark screen of her eyelids.

It tastes like the beginning of the end, murmurs a voice lost in the torn expanse of her mind, and she finds herself submerged by the need for more.

The warmth of his skin slowly melts the ice imprisoning her. Yet the tension running between them still has the red thread tightening around their throats, and a part of her refuses to see how good it could be to let him drag her down into his own flames. Let them be hers.

She only now sees the strange pattern they created, made from both violence and peace, love and hatred, as well as a guilty freedom tightening around her guts.

The Ghost probably noticed it too. Even when they exchange words filled with mockery and blood, he always ends up savouring the harsh touch of her hands pulling his teeth back towards her neck. And slowly, surely, he unwinds the knots holding her spirit together, only to tie them up all over again as she wakes up from a familiar anesthesia. A predatory smile carves itself against her neck, sharp teeth threatening to break both her body and soul - progressively widening the rift in the facade she desperately tries to keep in place.

- Relax, luv, he whispers, his abyssal timbre sending shivers down her spine.

His hands clutch every single one of her curves with a desperation she has yet to understand. His fingers seem to reach for her very soul, claws moulding her body to his will. Their hearts dance with each other as he holds her to his chest, exploring the expanse of her back as if he was discovering it for the first time. His breath leaves a scorching ache on her shoulder, and she wonders how his touch keeps getting even more delicious each time.

She lets out a cry as his fingers find her core. Her teeth coax a vicious growl from his throat as they sink into his flesh, and the Ghost drinks up every trembling breath dripping past her lips. A rumble echoes deep within his chest as she loses herself against him, her nails leaving crimson rivers down his neck.

The cold haunting her is now long forgotten. The ice shatters under the Ghost’s fangs, and, for a second, he draws his eyes towards the darkness of the room. They mercilessly pierce the remnants of the now silent spectres that tried to steal his perfect prey. Their silhouettes finally vanish completely ; at the same time, a shuddering whimper shakes the body resting in the iron of his grasp.

- Let’s show ‘em who ya belong to.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Choke.

She feels more than she sees the way her palms turn white under the assault of her own nails. Her heart never slows its erratic rhythm, forcing the mud coating the surface of her lungs to pulse along its beat. A few centimeters away from hers, the Ghost’s chest rumbles with a laugh.

The world could crumble so easily in-between her hands, he thinks ; she’d just need to strengthen her will. She could take over this infernal game and make it eternal, let the Divine Creations burn and burn, turn into a lake of sterile ashes. Ring the final bell and have its sepulcral cries echo in the bones of the Gods. Create her own version of a happy ending.

The world could crumble so easily in-between her hands ; for her determination is a synonym of destruction. And They know it. They are the ones who sent him to her, trying to make her fall. Did They even think he’d try to make her his instead ? To turn her against Their pathetic idea of glory ?

But he has yet to win. An infuriating reality. You should already be dead, he wants to scream, why do you refuse to yield ?

She only looks up at him through the darkness lining her eyes, ignoring the nauseating feeling of her life bleeding along her skin - leaving a series of darkening trails along the porcelain of her bones.

- What about you ? She says, and it’s like she’s reading his thoughts. It’s not like you’re doing much.

And it’s true. He torments her, brings her down over and over through countless excruciating fights. Strikes her weakest spots, both in her body and soul. Yet he knows it’s far from being enough. He wants to see how long she’ll last, what will end up being his coup de grâce ; but maybe a part of him wants her to live, achieve what his distant, decaying memory tells him he was never able to even touch.

His fangs scrape painfully against each other. Under the mask, his jaw is covered with the blood of the lives he took. Hers soaks through his clothes, skin, muscles and bones - but it has yet to taint his teeth, coat the walls of his stomach. He is the reason why his ideas haven’t been brought to light. He knows it well, perhaps he has even acknowledged it.

- You could reign over this world and you know it, she adds weakly, her voice breaking over the words she doesn’t even really need to articulate.

She doesn’t know if she’s glad to still be alive despite the fact that her body should already be lost six feet under, or if she wishes it would be the case.

- You have the power to bring your every desire to life. Make it a perfect reality.

Her muscles weaken with every second that runs through their fibres. Her lungs, filled with a dark, freezing darkness, beg to breathe in even the slightest amount of oxygen as her chest crumbles with exhaustion. Despite all of this, the Hunter refuses to sway, ignoring the waves of pain crashing against her bones. She tries to stand proud in front of the Ghost, feeling him watch intently as she fights against herself. But her legs crack and stumble ; and his reflexes are a perfect proof of his inhumanity when he launches himself forward to catch her, preventing her from shattering her already broken self on the rubble at their feet. He holds her tight against him, letting out a deep, mocking laugh - yet refusing to let her go.

They both know why.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Cry.

A flash of silver.

A familiar sting.

A salty tear.

Another wave of crimson crashes against the porcelain of her skin, violently, beautifully. The puddle swirling around her knees reflects the pathetic face of a broken doll. Her limbs are numb, unable to feel the rain hitting them as if it was trying to avoid her, only aiming for the floor. For a second, she wonders if a Divinity is crying for her Destiny, but the thought quickly falls quiet, silenced by a muted laugh. The Gods never pity their mortals.

Her soul falls into pieces once more on the marbled concrete at her feet, and the faraway echo guides her eyes up towards the sky. The adrenaline born from the usual fighting is slowly starting to fade. On the edges of her blurry vision, the Ghost draws his familiar silhouette out of the fog. The misshaped sarcasm she throws his way doesn’t make him flinch the slightest, making her wonder if this nightmarish entity didn’t place much more faith in her than she ever will.

What a stupid thought, they both whisper, the only thing breaking them apart being the usual snarky smile she forgot to wear to hide her ever-dampening cheeks.

- Ya know you’ll have trouble hidin’ those blood stains, right ? The demon says, kneeling to her side.

A soft sound escapes her lips, scorching hot compared to the rain.

- It’d be useless anyway.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Cry.

She wakes up with a start and a silent scream as sweat runs coldly down her chest. There’s a dry, violent pounding in her skull, enhanced by a laughing tide of cramps tearing her bones apart, its echo bouncing around her sleeping muscles. Despite the confusion lingering in her brain after what is probably her third nightmare of the night, she registers a warmth laying next to her, one she’s surprised to see at this hour. A part of her expected him to come and go as he pleases like he always does - never taking the time to stop, even for a moment. But in the end, him being here isn’t that surprising. Just like her, he’s never been able to leave her side for too long.

Maybe they’ve become each other’s haven among the mayhem of this world.

She shivers violently has she buries her face under the covers once more, ignoring the sweat lingering on her skin. Her hands whiten with the strength she uses to scratch at her scalp, hoping to lose her thoughts among the apocalyptic landscape of her bed. Find an anchor outside of the dreamworld.

- It’s impossible to fully heal, isn’t it ? She whispers more to herself than anything, even though she knows how light of a sleeper the Ghost is. No one can really forget.

Almost immediately, she feels him move against her shoulder, silently turning around to meet her form ; small and trembling under a nameless terror. Pathetic, he would usually laugh, but his own scars burn so viciously that he can only clench his teeth as he faces her pain. Is that empathy twisting his guts ?

What he would do to forget that thought.

- If ya want to forget tha’ badly, I might ‘ave a solution or two.

The Silence is loud as she nods slowly, tiredly. Seeking refuge in the sulfur of his touch.

- Please, she says, quaking as his hand smears layers upon layers of charcoal upon her hips, don’t you wish for the same ?

His lips fall upon the curve of her neck, barely restraining the fangs hiding behind them from piercing the already bruised skin ; reveal the raw pulse hiding underneath.

- Yes, he answers, barely daring to break the erratic rhythm of his breath - and, once more, feeling her melt through the peculiar love of his hold.

When traitorous Morpheus finally takes control over her mind, the sun has already broken through the night, painting the firmament in blinding hues of blue, devoid of any cloud. It claws mercilessly at the Ghost’s eyes, tears a low growl from his chest. On the other side of the window, the world rises to a mix of car engines, footsteps and voices, involuntarily celebrating the light that is constantly trying to burn him to ashes.

The sky has no reason to be blue, he thinks as his forehead meets the window pane, just like his Snowflake has no reason to sigh so serenely in his presence. The atmosphere is soft, warm ; dragging a wave of shivers down his back. A frustrated growl escapes his throat, the night of his eyes sparkling at the taste of a familiar rage. That celestial blue is silently looking down on him, mocking his darkness.

He loathes it.

He loathes her.

A second is enough for his knee to dig into the covers once more, giving him enough support to guide his fingers towards her face. They slowly dance along her skin as the weight of his very existence makes the mattress whimper, before roughly circling her neck. Her blood pumps peacefully under his touch, and his own voice screams in the back of his mind, distorted and rough.

Do it. Take her. Rid us of this nuisance.

His tongue soothes the cracks covering his lips, and a twisted smile eventually slices them open once more as the words settle in his thoughts.

But in her sleep, the Hunter moves - and his excitement dies as quickly as it came to live. She breathes in deeply, her head lolling against the pillows. Instead of braving for a fight like she usually does, she lets her subconscious raise a hand to his wrist, as if she was trying to offer him her silent support.

But that’s not what he wants. That’s not what he is.

What happened to this poor human that fought mercilessly against him, fueled by an endless determination ; the one who bared her broken teeth in his face through a bloody sneer, ready to turn his words against him and burn his entire being to ashes ?

He loathes the way his own mind whispers those words in his ears, exchanging it’s usual coldness for a dry melody made of anger and fear that makes his hold tremble around his Snowflake’s throat. The peculiar understanding they both came to. The doubts this small, vulnerable thing keeps planting in his soul. The fact that he can’t make any sense of the abyss bubbling in his head anymore

So he staightens up, ignoring the way his spine crackles as he makes his way out of this way too-familiar room. He almost expects a knife to dig through his back, to whistle in retaliation for engaging in an unfair fight. Give him a taste of his own medicine, in a way. A painful warning. So he waits.

But nothing comes.

A glance over his shoulder shows that the Hunter hasn’t moved a single inch. She still lays there, swallowed by a capharnaüm of blankets, her sleep-laden breath so slow it barely disturbs the quiet of the room. Her favourite plushie is curled on top of her head, like a guardian trying to keep its treasure from the merciless claws of a nightmare. A fitting description, he thinks, realising it’s probably been months since she slept so soundly.

His teeth strain under the sudden pressure of his jaws. This is the exact kind of peace he is starting to see in the eyes of his prey - as if she was in the process of surrendering, giving up her life to his now familiar hands. He doesn’t understand how she can bring herself to look at something like him and feel so serene. It makes him want to keep her for himself even more, taint the corrupted purity of her soul. He knows she can feel it ; so why does she treat him with so much tenderness ? Even more so after the hell he’s been dragging her through while laughing at her tears ?

A sour smile loses itself to the her sleepy silence as he turns back to sit on the edge of the bed. Perhaps the only reason why he wants her to be his is to understand her better. And once he does, he might finally be able to grasp how similar the chaos brewing in their hearts is. Forging their souls from the same steel.

Or perhaps the roles will change, and he will become nothing than a frail and vulnerable lamb. An easy prey caught in the destructive jaws of the Hunter.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Think.

Above her, a string of neons blink.

The young woman has no idea of what pushed her to once again get lost in the smelly bathroom of this nightclub - the one her friends keep dragging her to. Her eardrums haven’t stopped ringing violently ever since she stepped foot through its doors - perhaps because of the music that’s way too loud for her senses, the multicolored lights tearing at her retinas, or the uncontrollable amount of blurry faces swinging way too close for her comfort.

She doesn’t belong here.

Despite the nauseating swaying of her vision, she notices a more-than-familiar silhouette lingering in a corner of the room. He seems way too big for fit comfortably in the small space, engulfing it completely with his darkness. A stark contrast to the colorful graffiti littering the walls.

- ‘Ow many times do ya plan on makin’ tha’ back an’ forth between the dancefloor and this shithole ?

If the mockery in his tone only serves to irritate her more than she already is, the young woman doesn’t have the strength to meet the Ghost’s eyes. Instead, she stares at her own reflection among the suspicious dirt covering the mirror dangling on the wall, akin to a failed portrait made by a drunk painter. She thinks about taking a picture and submit it to the first museum of contemporary arts she stumbles upon, to top it off with a ridiculous title. Who knows - with a little bit of luck, she could maybe earn a little bit of money. Make it easier to reach the end of the month.

As that thought runs sarcastically through her mind, she ignores the dry chuckle rasping from the corner behind her.

Somewhere beyond the door, the DJ makes a poor transition to another music she barely recognizes. All that’s left in the tired void of her mind is the struggle of her own existence and the calm breathing of the entity, wafting against her neck despite the small distance between them. Her eyes meet once again the cracked lights in the mirror, and she can almost see it pulsating against the wall along the beat coming from the next room. The music keeps screaming in the rancid air, and her blood almost crystallizes in her veins when it’s joined by a chorus of screeches and whistles.

- I need to get away from here, she says, knowing the Ghost heard her despite the ambiant chaos.

She can feel him shift behind her as she reaches towards the dilapidated door with a trembling hand, desperately trying to shut off the pain lingering in her marrow.

- Let’s fuck off then, he answers almost immediately, and she wonders if he, too, hopes to get rid of a loud ringing in his ears.

She barely has the time to step out of the bathroom that she’s assaulted by the sounds, the smells, the touches. The singing voices and bodies burnt by an impossible amount of toxic liquids and smokes, a violent choir telling her to get away, away, away - GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE ; and she has no idea of which is stronger between the screams of the nightclub or the cries of her heart. Almost instinctively, she reaches behind her, seeking a destructive yet familiar contact in the hand of the entity following her. But her pride is a powerful force, and her arm stays stuck to her side.

Yet the Ghost knows her well. He feels what she does as if he was the one living inside her head ; and he kind of is, in a way. Perhaps he is the one feeling all of this, and not her ? He quickly silences the thought, enveloping her hand with the charcoal covering his own, squeezing so tight it’s almost painful.

It soothes an ache in his own non-existent heart. He wonder if she knows, feels, everything about him too.

Another nightmare comes running down his back ; a memory, the laughing spectre of what used to be a majestic pair of wings, which he used to fight in the Divine’s name until It abandoned him to his own abyss, tore his feathers apart to burn them to ashes in the flames of Its arrogance.

He almost feels the need to throw his eyes into another mirror shining below the erratic lights, as if the crevices running along its surface could give him what he lost ; a new kind of feathers, way too sharp for the immaculate hands of the Gods. But the Hunter keeps walking, dragging him along.

And the Ghost follows. For she’s his only shelter in this bubble of suffering they both unvoluntarily insist on sharing.

Run. Dodge. Fight. Think.

How do you mourn a devastating loss when you’ve never had anything to lose ?

Tell an Angel a tale of love, and they will carry it in their dreams. Listen to the beating of their heart, akin to a bird’s song celebrating the rising sun. Watch the molten gold reflecting off the ink of their blood drop from the wounds their longing for such a feeling caused. Realise how beautiful the depths of their darkness is, abyssal and mesmerizing ; how empty it all is, devoid of any sense.

The Ghost isn’t too different, he who lives thanks to those who unknowingly need him, who convinced himself that he was made to serve their torment. His very existence is proof that, if he can’t find a soul to pull him forward, he is nothing ; which is why he looks for his redemption through countless paths made from wounds that aren’t his. He dips his feet in puddles tainted by the blood of mortals, the crimson life -and death- of those whose hatred and suffering only serve to fuel his own.

A long time ago, he forgot what it’s like to love.

Maybe he remembers the meaning of caring for someone. But does that mean his feelings were once given back to him ? The thought is both ridiculous and horrifying ; a description that fits him well, too. It has become impossible for him to get rid of the impression that, if he one day decides to let go of the his Snowflake, these shreds of memories would also slip through his fingers.

So he holds on, so strongly that his knuckles whiten and crack under the corrupted ink of his skin. He doesn’t know whether or not he could speak of love - if he should. Behind the deformed skull covering his face, the entity hides a terrified snarl.

Sometimes, alone in his own darkness, all of this makes him laugh. How lucky he is to have something to fear, something to drive him forward ! And how undeserving he is of it, Fallen that he is, he who fell so long ago in a bottomless well of which he will never get out !

During his most vulnerable moments, laying down next to the Hunter among the chaos of her bed, he lets his doubts break through his voice.

- You’re mine, aren’t ya ? He asks, and she murmurs something he can’t catch before clearing her throat.

- Yeah, she answers sleepily, I’m yours.

Her hands get lost in the gaping scars littering his back, and he allows himself to be lulled by such a light touch, devoid of the usually anxious trembling interrupting her days. Among his sighs, now peaceful thanks to this intimacy they barely think to share, his muscles tense periodically. She feels more than she sees the earthquake hidden behind the baritone notes of his voice ; and she knows his fears too well, these nightmares that keep trying to shatter the pieces of her heart. She can almost see his eyes look for an answer she might not really dare to give him, for she almost knows him better than she knows herself ; and vice versa. Or maybe not, whispers and echo that sounds eerily close to a mix of their voices, but she refuses to torment the already too twisted soul of the Ghost.

What made you like this ? She sometimes yearns to ask. Who made you into those ruins of a man, constantly trying to drown you in a bottomless abyss ?

But she knows she will never be brave enough to loudly articulate those questions, even if he might already know about them. So she settles for snuggling against his peculiar warmth, covering the tangle of their bodies with a toasty piece of her covers, not really knowing which one of them she is trying to bring comfort to. A yawn escapes her lips as she holds him against her chest like a damaged, oversized plushie - not unlike the one sleeping peacefully next to her head.

- And you’re mine.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Dream.

The era she lives in is made of corruption and greed, she thinks, its horrors rivalling with the ones found in the deepest pits of Hell itself. Or perhaps it’s a form of Paradise ? Maybe she’s nothing more than a demon hidden in a masquerade filled with pure, ancestral beings, her flaking skin gripping the velvet of her costume, threatening to tear it apart like the Gods did her soul. Maybe she’s one of the few who see the Truth hidden behind this never-ending show, this cacophony in the middle of which she’s forced to survive despite the fact she’s not meant to be there in the first place.

In a world covered in scorching waves and deadly shores, where is she supposed to find herself a halo ?

Sometimes, she wonders if the Angels of today pray when the sun rises, kneeling in front of the loud cries of their coffee machine. If the remnants of what were once sacred melodies dance in the ashes if their memory, disappearing behind the echo of the last drop falling into a cup they will never empty completely.

She wonders if their now blunt teeth break cigarette after cigarette, their ends piling up on the cold and dirty tiles of public restrooms, the walls around them covered in holy quotes they have long since forgotten. If their tongues happen to trip on the syllabes of a language they can no longer understand.

She wonders if their mouths are still filled with ambrosia, tainting every other food with a flavour they now know as forbidden. If they still remember lazing around in the middle of starry clouds, once upon a time when their glasses were never empty and their laughter ran along the skyline.

And she wonders if they would still be able to recognise their brothers and sisters behind the corrupted aura surrounding them, the foam born form the Lethe that lingers in their eyes. If they meet each other under the noses of the mortals species they now belong to, their sanded claws tearing the silky skin covering their bones, as if trying to find an illusion of peace in the ocean of confusion they are doomed to roam.

Are there even such beings, nowadays ? She murmurs. Remnants of sacred ruins destined to sway forever between their forgotten paradise and the hellish grounds they always feared ?

- You’re overthinkin’ again, a voice echoes at her side, and she can almost see two dots of dried blood light up at the edge of her field of vision.

She doesn’t even think about turning her head towards the sound, her own eyes focusing on the darkness of her ceiling.

- Would you be able to answer any of my questions ?

Her mattress suddenly caves in under a weight she now knows too well. The Ghost leans over her, a foreign expression carving his face behind the skull of his mask.

His silence is as somber as it is eloquent.

- Your fall, she insists, did it hurt ?

- ‘Course it did.

Of course it did, echoes a smiliar voice floating in the darkness. I felt my wings decompose as I tried to slow my fall down, the stars burning my fingertips over and over. My hands have been torn open by the lightning crawling around the atmosphere, and the clouds cried waves upon waves of salty tears upon my wounds. My scapulars tore the muscles of my shoulders apart, and my feathers burned among a sea of flames I once came to admire.

This nightmarish moment still haunts my entire being. I can still hear my own screams bounce around my skull, refusing to quiet down despite the passing of time and the crevices that line its walls.

Of course it hurt.

- Of course, she repeats once more with a pale voice, as if the memories twirling in her mind had always been hers.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Dream.

Angels are sacred beings, spells a voice lost in the young woman’s mind, whose wings have been carved in a block of purity, and whose feathers sway along the rhythm of a virtuous wind. It’s easy for them to lose it all. Remember this, for the next time you catch the eyes of a Fallen.

Inside the Ghost’s ribcage, a somber void sits where a heart once was. The cracks of the Genesis hide a bottomless abyss, cruel and bathed in despair. She never knows how to resist to its alluring call, the loving whispers twisting her soul and turning it into a palette of rotten watercolours.

She’s been standing in her bathroom for a long time now, watching her reflection in her foggy mirror. Her hair clings to her face, still wet from the heat of a way-too-long shower, yet she does nothing to move it. Truth be told, the reflective glass only shows her a vague, colorful shape ; but she knows herself well, so much that it has become impossible to ignore the marks lingering on her body. She’s the reason behind many of them, guided by the honeyed words of her nightmares, always so cold against the invisible flames licking at her skin.

She should run. She knows that too well. She should have started running eons ago, even, but something inside of her refuses to get rid of her chains. She could escape to the other side of the world - yet nothing could stop her from coming back to the entity that, despite their constant fighting, somehow keeps her head out of the water.

Migh’ be our Destiny, is what he always says, persuading her to stay by his side. And it could be true, for the Fates are vicious and cruel, always looking for a way to laugh at their pathetic efforts to stay afloat.

He used to be an Angel. Everyone is to meet at least one during their life, and another one after their death ; no matter its nature. The Divine no longer cares about the purity of the entities It sends to the mortal world, and might even find some pleasure in seeing the consequences of Its own failures, convincing Itself that none of them is Its fault. The Gods will always see Themselves as better than anything else, and the Ghost hopes she never forgets it.

- And there she is, he says as he steps closer to her exhausted form. Back again.

The echo of his footsteps sends shivers down her spine. A bitter taste haunts the dried walls of her throat, soon taken over by a nauseating sweetness - the kind that makes her want to hold even more of it between her teeth.

Run, the voice whispers once more. You poor little thing, it might not be too late to escape him. But she knows this regret will soon go silent, making it even more easier to stay. So she stays, unmoving as he gets closer and closer, until there’s barely an inch left between their chests.

- Tha’ was quick. Missed me tha’ much ?

His smile is impossible to describe. Her reflection is clear in the bloody lake of his eyes ; showing her the peculiar fascination that paints her features, sometimes broken by rays of doubt and desire. Their lips barely graze each other as he leans in, yet the touch is so vivid compared to everything else that the Hunter wonders if it wasn’t just her imagination.

- Your ego knows no bound, she mumbles, her voice lacking its usual sharpness.

The Ghost smiles, knowing too well how captivating his inhumainty is. She constantly tries to get rid of this malicious attraction that chains the both of them, dipping her finger in the spectral thoughts whispering how much better she is than all of this, than this Fallen who knows nothing about the depths of love. It’s all an illusion, a dream created by an infernal fever. A trap. She’s aware if this - so why does it all seem so real, sometimes ? Could it be that all these silent, vulnerable moments are nothing more than the sparks of futile hope she thought was real ?

She should run. But she wants to know if there isn’t even the smallest of truthful lights hidden behind this never-ending nightmare.

- You always say that Destiny’s the reason why we’re constantly brought together, she murmurs weakly, dropping her head against the Ghost’s torso as he holds her there, hands coated in a silent tenderness. But how could that be, since I always do my best to avoid you ? How do you keep finding me ?

For a moment, the entity feels his eyes widen with surprise. He quickly hides it behind a sly smile, cruel and warm. This time, he dives even deeper to really meet her lips, and she can taste the rust that seems to haunt his every touch.

She should run. But she doesn’t. She never will.

- I jus’ follow those who are waitin’ for me, Snowflake.

She sometimes wonder if she’ll ever be able to forgive their mutual sins ; and the voice in her head cackles. You’re bound to a being that lives for this, it says, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten ? The laughter refuses to stop as she realises again and again that she’s far from being Holy - something that the Ghost knows too.

- You always save me from my demons because you want to kill me yourself, don’t you ? She asks, her words bouncing strangely around her dried throat. You’re the only Death you’ll allow me to have.

He sucks in a breath, the darkness of his features twisting under his mask. Those questions -or statements ?- rouse an unknown feeling from the void ; new, complex, indecipherable. She can almost feel his usual arrogance quiver in her own heart, abruptly hidden by the melancholic sigh crossing his lips.

After a moment of silence, the entity places a kiss on her shoulder, light as a buttefly. Something loud echoes from his thoughts, a conflict lost eons ago to the abyss, while his own silence offers no denial or confirmation. So she keeps herself quiet, holding her certainty in a corner of her blurry mind.

And in her dreams, when Morpheus laughs as he asks her if she’s found herself to be seduced by his newfound vulnerability, the exhausted Hunter simply offers him a bitter smile, drinking her own tears from a golden cup.

She no longer has an answer.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Hope.

Among the universe in which she lives, the Hunter never knew a single end ; only strings of never ending realities and gargantuan burdens holding the cruel thoughts that keep laughing at her misery. Destiny has never been on her side. Which makes her laugh ; maybe she stopped believing in it too long ago to care.

She couldn’t say when exactly she lost the taste of happiness that came with the old memories of her youth. Instead, her tastebuds tremble whenever a tired and distressed breath invades her mouth in the hopes of being set free, twist under its sour flavour as she tries to swallow it. Some times are not made for sighing.

The Gods decided that she was made to wither in Chaos, but she’d rather see things differently. She doesn’t like the idea of the cruel, broken concepts They make, those that never hesitate to unleash waves of suffering on thousands and thousands of innocent souls. She tries to focus on the positive things they sometimes leave in their wake, no matter how difficult it is to find them, how easily they can crumble in her hands.

For now, she’s stopped fighting. But the cascades of her own blood are now weaved in her soul, constantly retelling tales of the wars she’s been through. She can do nothing more than to wait for the next storm. Which she does.

Among the uiverse in which she lives, comfort comes and goes however it pleases. More often than not, it goes down a path drastically different than hers, so far away that she loses sight of it. Those periods of time stretch out for so long that when this peace comes back, meeting its almost unknown silhouette triggers her reflex to fight - her soul screaming at the potential enemy standing in front of her.

Fight ! It pleads. Fight ! Fight ! Fight !

Survive !

Yet she silences it for now.

Outside of her window, the city still hides behind a thick veil of fog. As always, it should be too early for her to be awake ; but her eyes refuse to stay closed, and her mind focuses on the heavy feeling crushing her waist. The Ghost lays beside her, still fast asleep with an arm slung over her frame, his body easily engulfing hers. It’s a good opportunity for her to observe how his short, blond hair fades into the porcelain of his skin, shattered by countless scars of all colours. She dares run a hand through the blond calamity of his hair. How strange it can be, she thinks as he sighs against her breast, to sometimes boil with hatred and disdain for the other, yet still share those quiet moments of intimacy whenever the fight ends.

She used to wish for him to disappear. And yet now, she finds peace in his presence.

What happened ?

In her eyes, the entity did nothing to deserve even an ounce of kindness. He dragged her down over and over again, enjoyed building her back together only to break her again, drew tears and blood from her very soul to savour the taste. But so did she.

The Divine keeps laughing at their pain by offering them fake opportunities of redemption. But they both know they can only find their salvation in the other’s soul, walk side by side towards a new world of their own creation. If the thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, she still sees how attractive it can be to slowly burn out in the heart of the Ghost while cradling him in hers - free both of their souls of the miasma haunting them.

This is a fantasy based on nothing, cackles a distorted voice in her head. And it’s true. No matter how much they try to redeem themselves, how many times they tear their own knees apart while praying, and how many rebellions they go through in order to cut their own strings, the skies will never allow them to leave Their grasp. But they stopped caring a long time ago.

Raising a trembling arm to her eyes, the Hunter smiles. Exhaustion weighs heavy on her lips as she silently follows the too-many marks littering her skin - a familiar sight, with an ever-growing number. She realises how similar her scars are to the Ghost’s. The canvas of their bodies is covered in white lines, rugged burns and deep, purple bruises that never stop appearing, and her vision sways before she can finish counting.

Yet she can’t stop her eyes from following the crevices lining the entity’s back. They rise and hide among a valley of broad muscles, holding the memories he refuses to share. The visions he can’t forget. Her own back is probably the same. They are covered in the painful remnants of what used to be their wings, the spectres of their freedom weighing heavy against their bones.

- I know you’re awake, Ghost. Stop pretending.

She immediately feels him smile against her skin, his fangs threatening to catch on the red lines crossing her chest.

- No’ pretendin’, he answers with a low and cheeky voice. Admirin’ my work.

- Oh, fuck off.

That drives a cackle out of his throat. He could have followed up with one of his usual snarky comments, but he chooses to nuzzle the crook of her neck instead as she slowly rakes her nails along his scalp. The gesture is soft, tender - so different from the times she claws at him instead, either during their fights, or their rougher moments of intimacy. An empty glance to her face, one she tries to avoid, tells him that she probably had the same thought.

The atmosphere is strange during this morning, bathed in a shy light, but the Ghost doesn’t pay it any mind. The room is perfectly silent, and it would be a shame to ignore this opportunity to get a glimpse of her beautifully complex mind.

How many times did he see his Snowflake’s eyes hold the darker hues of a violent rage, an abyssal despair, or any other feelings she couldn’t decipher ? He reads her like an open book, so satisfyingly transparent. How beautiful it is to watch how her story writes itself to the rhythm of her thoughts, of the days they weave together ! For now, all he sees is a slow melancholy digging in-between the lines, akin to a storm brewing on the horizon. An infinite tiredness that has him silencing the teasing he was tempted to articulate.

- You miss it, don’t you ? She finally says, interrupting his observations.

She hesitates slightly, pausing in her train of thoughts. How could she summarize the entirety of their mutual struggle in one sentence ? Her own saliva becomes painful to swallow, dragging against the dry walls of her throat. It’s like a marble of lead is blocking her oesophagus, leaking the poison of doubt in her system.

- The Chaos, she continues, her voice sounding incredibly raw. You keep chasing it, but it’s getting away.

The Ghost rolls onto his back, grunting as the rust of his bones hinders his movement. She isn’t wrong. Just like Violence has tried to break her soul, his is tainted by a visceral need to ruin all order. All is boring when Peace settles in ; silent, clean. Unsufferable.

But when he looks at the Hunter and her milky scars highlighted by the rising sun, the entity thinks this moment of rest -which will obviously be too short for her tastes- isn’t that bad. He appreciates the calm floating in the air, and her presence too, even if their relationship might be far from ideal. To stay here, bathing in the misty morning glow without holding a blade to the other’s throat, is something he finds himself to enjoy quite well.

He slowly sits up, allowing his head to stretch lightly to the side. The smile he gives her is full of harmless malice.

- Ya’d miss me, eh ? If I left to pursue tha’ Chaos.

- Oh no ! Not at all !

- Always so shy, he sighs as if her reaction offended him. Neva’ sharin’ whot ya really think.

He leans above her, voice lowering, and his arm twisting in a way that can barely support his weight. It wouldn’t take much for him to fall into his previous position.

- Bu’ maybe we could create our own Chaos ?

- We already do that quite a lot, she quips back while rolling over to turn her back to him. It’s enough for me.

She feels more than she sees the way his smile now leaves his fangs on full display, showing how much he enjoys troubling the morning peace with his dark and honeyed words. He softly takes hold of her wrist, where his lips come to follow a path he now knows more than well.

- Bu’ didn’t I hold your hand ta guide ya towards peace, multiple times ?

Face halfway buried into the pillows, the Hunger grimaces. These words reflect a twisted truth, ensnare her throat like the red thread that runs along her skin.

- You hate Peace, she breathes.

- And ya know nothin’ o’ it.

Sometimes, she thinks, « dangerous » isn’t powerful enough to define the Ghost - especially when his thoughts get so close to hers. When she finally decides to meet his gaze, she finds the usual spark of arrogance dancing behind his pupils. Yet there’s also a hint of laziness and sincerity, one she seems to see more and more as time passes. Body still heavy with sleep, she raises herself towards him, and languishly runs her thumb across the traitorous curve of his lips.

- You know your offer is tempting.

Among the universe in which she lives, the Gods like to play like cowards, binding them together as one tormented soul. They both despise Them for giving them so many feelings they will never control. On one side of the coin, it’s freeing to be carried by the dangers they hold ; but on the other side, constantly standing in the eye of the storm is exhausting. Like fighting with bare hands against a raging fire.

- And I know you’re gonna refuse, Snowflake.

She simply cackles.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Hope.

She doesn’t remember much about the happy times of her childhood. The earliest memories she holds are already painful, filled with an almost visceral need to survive against the infernal obstacles that Life keeps throwing in her path. They keep repeating that it’s like this for everyone, forcing her to reduce her own armor in pieces and tear out the heart beating behind it, showing this corrupted world the gaping wounds it has to beat with ; the searing edges she had to cauterize herself in order to not bleed out on her own ; the cries she swallowed into silence to avoid being treated like a stranger to her own existence.

Maybe they’ll come to see how difficult it is for her to keep going, she thinks, to hold her head high when everything tried to drag her down.

Her eyes, circled by her tired pain, get lost in the phosphorescent stars haunting her ceiling. Their pale, green light has always been a guide, a sturdy anchor protecting her against the merciless currents of her thoughts whenever she feels like giving up. Being a Celestial must be tiring, she sometimes whispers while imagining said creatures flying among clouds and comets. She can’t imagine what it takes to bear the weight of the hopes and dreams of others when one’s has already left this world to wander in another.

She always thought she never believed in Fate ; yet when she lets herself be carried away by the abyssal timbre of her Ghost, that demon she now knows more than herself, she remembers that it’s impossible to escape its languid clutches. Sometimes, a part of her wonders if she wasn’t wrong to listen so much to her doubts.

Her body is covered in scars she is ashamed to wear. But her fight is still far from whatever ending it might follow, and something in her mind murmurs that they can’t be that bad, those white marks she shares with the Fallen she’s come to love.

Her bones crack as she turns her pillow over to meet the cool fabric of its unused side ; but it’s the touch of the entity laying on top of her that keeps making her shiver, and a light laugh escapes her when his charcoal-covered claws brush against her ribs. It’s a rare melody, and it convinces him that, somewhere, the firmament must be torn by the miraculous and silent dance of a shooting star.

His thoughts only quiet down when she slides a hand along his scalp to feel the softness of his hair, the clarity of her voice echoing through the silence.

- Don’t you want to see it from up close ? She asks, causing him to raise a curious brow.

- See whot.

- The shooting star.

The Ghost smiles, littering her skin with butterfly kisses filled with reverence. To see the one he gave his love to so eager to do the same is a beautiful feeling, and he realises how lucky they both are to have met each other while looking for a new kind of ataraxia.

- No need, he whispers, nuzzling in the crook of her neck.

I already have one.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Kill.

Run. Dodge. Strike. Live.

[tiramissyoucake]

Hidden Bride

Sae itoshi x reader, royalty x commoner marriage au, characters are 18+, Sae is a little ooc, reader is female, Shidou being gross cameo, reader has a considerably younger sibling, approx 2287 words

CW: none, maybe very VERY slightly suggestive towards the end? No proof reading

Note: I’m so sleepy waaa blew off studying to finish this lol sobs, not super proud of this but I was gonna explode if I didn’t write prince Sae related thingy so enjoy !!

news spread like wildfire in the kingdom when the Royal family announced their oldest son was looking for a bride, everyone had assumed that Prince Sae would marry a woman of similar status however he had refused any offers and suggestions of who he should marry and insisted that he would choose the woman who would become his bride. 

His parents tried talking him out of it, they introduced him to a wide selection of women who were of age to marry and yet Sae didn’t spare them a glance, most girls were either after his family’s wealth and status or they had fallen for his mysterious nature without actually knowing a lick of information about him to which he found pathetic. No matter who was presented, he would be filled with irritation and would discard the suggestions with a disgusted frown.

Sae’s denials echoed in the palace hallways to anyone who dared mention the topic to him, insisting that if he’ll marry a woman then he’ll make sure she’s worthy of him and not just because of the coincidental similarity of their blood being royal.

No one knew what method he would go about for choosing a bride, his routine consisted of finishing his daily responsibilities and he would head out with a single guard (a hand-picked guard he decided was fitting to stand with him after monitoring a training session, although he could do without his blabbering and lewd comments), the guard had told him his full name but he’d only caught ‘Shidou’, not caring enough to remember his full name.

For weeks, Sae would follow his usual pattern of searching: walk around the marketplace, study the civilians who would sell, purchase or just peruse and then go home unsatisfied. His search would be unsuccessful every time he went left, no one displayed behavior that promised an obedient queen, all he saw was nonchalant faces or slack-jawed surprised expressions at his presence, as if his people couldn’t believe he’s a real person and not an unreachable deity of some sort.

Every time he returned to the palace, Everyone around him nagged him that he can’t just stare at civilians and hope to magically find a bride, to which he’d always reply: “as if you have the capacity to understand”, these advisors, his parents, no one understood the vitality of the issue. He believed his parents’ marriage was sheer luck, that their marriage and the fact that they loved each other was the outcome of some bored wager made by fate. As for his advisors, what do they know anyway? They were all old men that cupid himself would be repulsed by, either divorced or destined to die alone.

The one time he leaves palace walls to unwind in the fields beyond the town borders he finally saw a chance of ending these foolish theatrics of bride hunting.

Sae walked down the path trying to think of his current options, either continue his needle-in-a-haystack search for a bride or accept some air-headed rich girl. His main goal out of wedlock was to simply produce an heir and mold them to perfection, he figured he should be able to find a tolerable lover to make this burden less bothersome.

before his mind could even reach a conclusion, he felt something hit his back, he froze in confusion and slowly turned to find… a child? with what he assumed was an angry face, the child’s attire seemed to imply it was from one of those families that preferred to stay on the outskirts of the territories for god knows what reason, the fabric and cut looked different than the ones civilians would wear deeper in the town. A wooden carved toy was on the ground near him, so that’s what hit him.

“Go back to your dumb palace, royal scom!”

‘Scom’? …Did it mean to say ‘scum’? Sae’s guard, Shidou who had been quietly following behind him approached the child with an irritated expression telling him to back off, he was almost tempted to stop his guard to see what this child was raving on about.

Sae knew there were people who opposed the ruling family but he hadn’t known that the influence would reach kids like this, how did this child even recognize him? Before anything could escalate, he saw another figure approach

The figure looked to be near Sae’s age, their features and clothes matched the child’s save for the fact that her features were more feminine and her outfit was best described as a common everyday dress, one that a family with decent savings would give their daughter. He watched her hold the child’s hand and reprimand them softly yet sternly, at least that’s what he assumed from her expression and whatever words his ears had caught

“Where did you go?! You know better than to run off!”

“But he was-“

“No buts! You’re in big trouble! Do you know who this is..?!”

Her voice was laced with concern, she didn’t have the cruelty to be angry at a child for their simple curiosity yet she couldn’t let this child frolic away from the situation without proper lecturing. Sae stopped his over-analyzing as his eyes met hers, Shidou moved forward.

“Listen missy, get that kid of yours on a leash! Or else-“

“Shidou, back off.”

The prince stepped forward, he approached the girl and as he did, the child lifted their small fists as if ready to fight, the girl immediately ushered the child behind her legs stuttering excuses.

“Its.. an honor to be in your presence like this, your royal highness! I apologize for my sibling’s behavior- they’re very wary of strangers.“

‘Sibling’? So this isn’t her child, Sae assumed that she was unmarried then as usually commoner families children would not be married off at this age, unlike royal families that rushed to build family trees and secure heirs.

“What is your name, maiden?” He examined her as he spoke, she acted like a cornered wild animal, worried that she and her sibling would receive punishment for the child’s careless words. She responded with her name.

“I see, I’d like to have a word with your parents.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Your parents wouldn’t believe you if you told them the prince himself was in the fields outside town, its a good thing he’d insisted.

Your mother pulled you aside to help prepare a meal for the prince even after he assured he wasn’t hungry, you could hear your father try to interrogate him discreetly and Sae replied smoothly to everything he threw at him. You could feel Sae’s calculative stare as you tried keeping busy assisting your mother at preparing the meal.

You were called over by your father, you mentally thanked the gods for their discussion ending, you could not have prepared yourself mentally enough.

“Your daughter possesses the proper attributes to be my wife, I will be marrying her.” the prince’s utterance sounded more like a command rather than a question.

Your heart fell to your stomach, immediately a look of shock was evident on your features, Sae didn’t know whether to laugh or awe at it. Your father had a look that did not hide the murderous intent, he wanted you to hear this directly from the supposed ‘honorable prince’.

After your parents took a moment to discuss this seriously, the prince waited outside your home ignoring his guard’s rambling about you. Your family decided to allow you to choose, they didn’t want to throw you to the prince however they were worried about what would happen if they denied him a bride. 

You thought about how this position as the prince’s bride would help you help your family directly, at least you would be able to live in the town instead of making those exhausting back and forth trips, even if the prince would move the small home you lived into town as it is you would be happy.

Opening the front door after your parents had a tearful last discussion with you, the prince turned away from his guard.

“And I’m telling you- those hips? perfect for-“

“Shut your mouth, horny demon.”

The prince swiftly silenced the guard, you suspected what they were talking about given the smug look on the guard’s face but decided against thinking about it. The prince approached you, waiting for your answer.

“Well, maiden? What is your answer?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You felt out of place, like a doll made of wood among porcelain figures, Sae had hired trainers and tutors for anything and everything he deemed necessary for you to learn as his wife. An etiquette consultant for dinners, dancing instructor for balls, to top your busy days off the tailor regularly visited you in your quarters to drop off dresses and such you were expected to wear around your husband or in the ‘comfort’ of your new home.

The change was exhausting to deal with and even now, a month after the overly extravagant wedding, you found yourself struggling to keep up with Sae’s expectations although he seemed lenient enough towards you.

Speaking of your husband, he rarely showed you any affection at all. he had small ways of showing you he did care but it takes a sharp eye to notice.

on your wedding day Sae kept his hand over your shaking one as a silent way to comfort you, in a moment of privacy during the wedding he had whispered to you lowly and smoothly as if you were an antique fragile doll: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you”

he would reprimand your instructors if he received word of them being cruel to you, Sae was usually calm and collected but you had wondered what happened for your ballroom instructor to apologize so earnestly to you the next time you had a lesson.

The last thing you can think of that reminded you of Sae’s genuine feelings was his cool gaze, if his eyes were to sweep a room and briefly stop at you- you could feel it. an enveloping feeling overwhelms you whenever he stared at you, even if you were in your deepest sleep you could feel it. You never felt threatened or scared of his observance; it made you feel safe in this foreign setting, as if a constant reminder of your wedding day.

Another day in this royal hell has been completed, you recently bid farewell to your tailor who had dropped off the final batch of clothes for you, the newest garments were nightgowns soft to the touch made of the smoothest silk Sae could find. as you examined one of the many nightgowns you felt flustered at how revealing they are, some were translucent others were a bit short- you had no idea how royals were able to indulge in these.

You heard the room door open and close, turning away from the clothes you saw your husband removing his baroque-patterned vest allowing his white shirt to flow off his chest, you heard him putting away the vest while you were putting away the nightgowns and that familiar feeling would wash over you; he was examining you.

The room was quiet and you could hear him slowly approach, Sae took his sweet time examining the view, you looked adorably clueless trying to act oblivious to his movements until he settled his hands on your shoulders. He had to hold back a smile at the way you squirmed at the feeling of his cold hands contact your skin.

“They look lovely,” he muttered, looming over you to examine the clothes. He leaned down to your ear as if to coax you out of your shyness that you harbored so closely when you were around him “would you like to wear this for the night?”

“.. Are you sure? Is it not too revealing..?”

“Nonsense, you’re my wife and I am your husband, I would love to see you in any and all appearances.”

His suggestion made you more flustered than you already were and yet for some reason you found yourself nodding slowly, he took the liberty to help you out of your dress unable to keep his eyes from wandering across any newly exposed parts of your body. He found you divine, a hidden gem in this cave of boring rocks who weren’t even worth a second glance.

You knew your place, he loved that about you, you kept your head down when you needed but you weren’t completely submissive to the point of being pushed around easily by equals.

Removing the dress fully, he took this chance to glide one hand down from your shoulder to your arm and slipping to your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he let out a sigh that made your heart quicken.

“You’re radiant, whether fully dressed or completely bare.”

The nightgown he chose from the collection showed off your shoulders, he landed a kiss onto your exposed shoulder, his hold on your waist returning after he’d helped you slip on the silk comfortably. This is the first time he’s been this openly affectionate with you, the stress of his search and the relief of finding a bride were the only two things he could think about right now.

He kissed at your neck, featherlight kisses tickling your skin as he resisted the urge to continue, he didn’t want to force you into intimacy so early into your marriage as to not scare you off. he snapped out of his lustful haze when he felt your hands settle over his that were around your waist as if to assure him that you’re here, his bride, his queen.

This night would bestow another sound slumber to the newlyweds.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Empress

This AU really starts when Anakin finds his mother in the Tusken camp, but only truly works if there is a little set up before.  It is imperative, for reasons that will become clear, to note that in this Palpatine has been manipulating Anakin with the Force, as opposed to only psychologically, since he was a child.  Palpatine has been seeding the darkside, hidden deep so that it was never discovered (even by Anakin), waiting to sprout and spread the darkside like an infection at the appropriate moments. 

When Anakin finds his mother as she dies, he loses it, but not to violence. Instead he panics and shoves every bit of Force that he can into his mother’s body to try and bring her back and heal her. Every bit of the Force, including the darkside seeds that Palpatine had been planting.  Because healing is primarily a light sided technique, thus somewhat purifying, Shmi does not get the full force of the darkside infection that would have hit her son (so we avoid Vader!Shmi or even Full Sidious!Shmi) however there were a number of long lasting effects to the way Anakin panicked and brought her back (incidentally Anakin has now created two new deities for the Tuskans, which Shmi does note and will make use of later).  These include:

A Force bond between her and Anakin that gave her Anakin's memories and feelings for the past decade. 

A working knowledge of what Palpatine knew (From Palpatine’s Dark Seeds), though no firsthand memories. 

Force Sensitivity that is powerful enough to use the various techniques she just gained the knowledge to use.

A significant hit to the moral centers of her psyche.

A Soul Deep and engrossing ambition to rule the Galaxy.

Now Shmi is not evil in the way that Palpatine is (Palpatine is the kind of evil that not only does whatever he wants to accomplish his goal, but actively goes out of his way to create as much collateral as possible and will in fact even mildly inconvenience himself in order to increase collateral damage) but she does now fall closer to Amoral than not. Like her first option is not to kill kids, but it is never not an option. Shmi does justify her new desire to rule the galaxy, based on the fact that she would be better at it than Palpatine. 

By the time Anakin and Shmi have made it back to the Lars homestead, she has her son wrapped around her finger even more than she would have. She had also, through the careful recounting of how one of the men who had seemed so kindly to the slave children had actually been a child murder (couching it it in terms that one of Anakin's childhood friends, who it turned out had been a victim of this man, grave had been found and the man brought to a rather brutal justice), partially broken Anakin’s trust in Palpatine without ever letting on that she knew who Palpatine was.  

After they get back to the Homestead, Shmi tells Anakin that she wants him to visit again and to bring Obi Wan (It was after they had talked about what had been happening since he left). Anakin loves Obi Wan as a brother, and as such Shmi loves him too. Padme has also fallen quickly under Shmi’s influence, which is good considering that Shmi intended to make Padme another daughter in law (Both because Anakin had a crush, and she wanted Anakin to have what he wanted, and because Senator and former Queen of Naboo is actually a decently powerful set of titles).  Shmi gently shoos her sweet, oblivious son off the planet with her future daughter in law (it is for the best that her Jedi Son be off the planet for what she is about to do next) making them promise to visit soon. 

Cliegg and Beru also fall quickly under Shmi’s spell. Owen holds out a bit longer (I am fully convinced that his ability to hold back Skywalker BS comes from growing up with Shmi, not his few interactions with Anakin) but is just as willing to follow Shmi’s lead within a tenday.

While a galaxy wide war is breaking out, Shmi quietly but very firmly takes control of Tatooine. Then, in spite of the fact she had not left the planet in decades, she quickly takes control of the rest of the Hutt Empire.  Her identity remains hidden; she does not want to fight her son or his Jedi family because they do not yet understand her vision for the galaxy. They will, of that she is sure, but it will take time.

One of the many things she does is abolish slavery within her new Empire.  It is both easier and harder than it would appear. Easier in that she does not care about the power or money of the people who made their living in trafficking of sentient life, so she does not care about the economics of the systems she dismantles. Harder because the Hutt Empire was built on slavery; there are significantly larger portions of every population of the Hutt Planets then anyone realized who had spent most of their lives enslaved, with no training or education and very little idea how to exist without being enslaved (with all the psychological and sociological implications therein).  But she does it, quietly absorbing the fledgling Zygerrian Empire as well. 

A year and a half into the Clone wars Shmi is finally ready to make her move. 

In that time she has become well connected with Padme, who asks for approval to marry Anakin six months into the war (Approval that Shmi grants, on the condition that Padme also get approval from Obi wan, as Anakin’s older brother/father. Padme asks, and to the surprise of both Padme and Anakin immediately gets Obi Wan’s baffled, but pleased, approval. In this one marriage is not forbidden to Jedi, it really isn’t even discouraged. No one seems to want to marry a Jedi, as far as the Jedi are concerned. Date a Jedi, well that seems to be common fantasy. Sleep with a Jedi, all the time. But never marry. This all serves Shimi’s true purpose, to continue to break the trust between her son and Palpatine). They do decide to wait until after the war, when they can have everyone attend; in part because Palpatine is pushing them both in a really creepy way. 

She makes her move by going on vacation with Cliegg to a world she knew, from her own spies, was about to be attacked by separatists. A world that it was highly likely the 212th would be deployed to. In the time it takes for the 212th to liberate the planet, it is a relatively minor battle so only takes a few weeks, Shmi and Clieg have connected with the battalion and convinced them to transport them (Shmi and Cliegg) to Coruscant.  If asked, even Obi Wan, Cody, or the Natborn officers are not sure how they came to agree to take two civilians to the Core but everyone Shmi meets becomes absolutely convinced that it was a reasonable decision. During this trip Shmi bonds with Obi Wan, as her son’s brother/father/teacher.  This was one of her goals, to get a clearer picture of who Obi Wan is, and through him the Jedi Order; Anakin’s memories and feelings are a bit mixed on the Jedi as a whole but she also knows, from Palpatine’s knowledge, that Palpatine had been manipulating those feelings for years.  She finds that she does like Obi Wan. Because of this Shmi intends, beyond even what her plan calls for,  that she would ensure that Obi Wan found happiness in her Empire. 

Upon arriving on Coruscant Shmi sends Cliegg (in disguise) to meet with various criminal underworld leaders who know of her fledgeling Empire, while she meets with members of the Jedi council to plant the seeds of her Galactic Empire. 

It is in this that we truly see the difference between Shmi and Sidious. Shmi wants to Rule the galaxy. Sidious wants to Subjugate the galaxy. Now granted the difference between the two is not as much as people who want the former would protest, but is greater than what the people who want the latter would claim. In this case ruling is a small group having a disproportionate amount of power over a larger group. Subjugation is a group or person asserting total control over another group or person. While a ruler can abuse the power they have, in order to subjugate someone, a being MUST abuse them to break them in such a way the subjugator can control them.  

In spite of her forced amorality Shmi is actually a good person and wants to be a good Empress for the galaxy. So for her, subjugation is more work (realistically 90% of the galaxy is not going to notice if they are in a republic or an empire, and not just because the Empire had been disguising itself as a republic for a decade. That same 90% have comparatively simple needs and are going to be fine with a ruler who provides them. Whereas requires constant control measures to apply the exact correct amount of pressure to bend the populace to your will, without breaking them into rebelling. Ruling well is actually less costly) for less benefit. Because of that having the super powered warrior monks, who most of the beings that would oppose an Empress on principle are going to look to as a paragon of wisdom,  buy into the idea that Shmi should be Empress and that they would be happier in her Empire makes more sense than eradicating them.  Also, complicated feelings aside, the Jedi make up part of Anakin’s family and she does not want to hurt Anakin’s family.

Shmi also, at the behest of Anakin, took time to go with him to meet his friend Palpatine.  While in the waiting room she speaks with Fox, on guard duty, who she recognizes from her talks with Cody as the person to place a bet with(No one suspects the stern commander of the Coruscant Guard to be the biggest bookie in three systems). After about an hour of chit chat (During which Palpatine has no idea he has met someone with all of his knowledge, who is planning to abscond with the Grand Sith Plan) Anakin and Shmi leave the Senate. Anakin semi anxiously asks her what she thinks of Palpatine, babbling a little bit that Obi Wan doesn't like him, but Obi Wan hates most politicians. Shmi, after letting a long pause stretch, says that Obi Wan has good instincts (Look I really want Palpatine to be faced with his own manipulation tactics) and casually mentions Obi Wan’s time enslaved and how that must have hond those instincts- which he had not told Shmi about but that she could guess.  Again without directly accusing Palpatine of anything, Shmi manages to get across to Anakin that as the Chancellor, Palpatine actually currently has all the power and has used it to effectively enslave the clones and the Jedi. Fully breaking Anakin’s trust in Palpatine and tying him closer to the Jedi (where Shmi wants him).   During this exchange Anakin asks what she had been talking to Fox about and she answers with ‘placing a bet’. Anakin lights up and guesses it is the ‘CodyWan Bet’, because literally everybody noticed their pining and that neither will admit it (Shmi uses that to drive the point home that both are effectively enslaved and do not feel free to be together if they might be ‘sold’ apart-a concept that Anakin is very familiar with).

I am not sure where it ends, except that Shmi does indeed become Empress and her Force powers work as such that she gains power through being loved, so in being a good ruler she stops aging. The Jedi do buy in and Palpatine does end up dead. Someone in Shmi’s smaller Empire, before she becomes Empress, discovers the chips and their purpose, which leads to the entirety of the Clones transplanting themselves (GAR, Cadets, everyone) to a planet in the former Hutt space (deeply freaked out over what they could have been made to do to their Jedi) and refusing all calls for like a year, while they dechip. The Jedi (all of them) transplanted themselves to the next planet over, waiting semi impatiently to be allowed to visit their men again.  Shmi meeting Ahsoka after she becomes Anakin’s Padawan and deciding that, as her oldest grandchild, Ahsoka would have the option to be her heir if she would like (Ahsoka really wants to be a Jedi, but agrees to hold the status until another heir comes along-she gratefully passed the heir status to Leia when Leia was born, as she could not be knighted while still the Empress’s Heir). 

Oh and Obi Wan does get to be happy with Cody in the new Empire, with frequent visits from Satine (I like the idea that they were childhood sweethearts/first loves that knew they would not fit well romantically but still loved each other and got to be overprotective of each other-Satine adores Cody, thinks he is perfect for Obi Wan and thy find time every so often to take an evening to drink over whatever ridiculous situation Obi Wan go himself into this time)