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ultra-raging-ghost · 9 months

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It's midnight here and I'm tired and soft so! Here's some thoughts that don't make sense (every time I see videos of foster kittens or like kittens in one of those little enclosures, I think of Bagi and Cellbit for whatever reason.)

Do you think there's a world where Bagi and Cellbit weren't separated? Do you think there's a world where Cellbit and Bad walked off the battlefield together? Do you think there's a world where both of those are true?

A world where a demon walked off the battlefield with two young teens (they can't remember their names, they are fifteen, and that's all they really know anymore)? A world where a demon sees the brother and sister, that he taught indescribable violence to, sleeping peacefully in a hotel room bed (nobody questioned them, they probably should have)? Is there a world where the demon teaches the twins (they're twins, they remember that) how to be human? Does the demon know what it means to be human?

-miscellaneousplusmore.

Oughhhh ive never thought about this before... i was gonna hit you with angst but its 2:30 am and im also feeling soft.... so im gonna write you something like fanfiction but not quite.... just how i imagine it :3

On the battlefield there was hushed whispers about a pair of little demons, wild children mirrors of one another, in looks, instincts, actions, demônios da guerra. They spoke to no one but each other, and barely that, in growls, yowling, grunts, noises. They slept huddled on top of each other in bushes and trees during the day, and at night four glowing, amber eyes haunted the earth they roamed.

Silence, yowling, screaming, rips, tears, gushes, chewing, a cannon, silence.

The only thing you heard before death, it was rumored, was the pattering of bare feet on grass, and the soft rasping breaths of a child who's been running for too long. You couldn't even bother with the flora of the area, if you were close enough to hear the gentle purring that indicated someones were sleeping inside, you were already dead.

Some weeks into the war, tiny mouths were gasping between bites, gorging themselves on as many mouthfuls of human meat as possible before it was too dangerous to stay out any longer. A cannon had fired, birds scattered, and the two children had looked up from their meal. Their first time making eye contact, not only with each other but with themselves. An almost perfect mirror image. Nobody else was there to witness it, but cellbit's first word with his mind running wasn't even a word at all - it was a soft whine, something in the lower part of his throat that didnt fight its way out like most things that escaped him. Bagi's didnt happen immediately, she was chewing, chewing, chewing, mostly human teeth was not built to chew mostly human meat, she had just chewed and chewed and acknowledged the boy with handfuls of chunky red food in his hands with wide eyes, not even a smile.

And there is a demon on the field, and there is an uninvited guest on the field, and there's death, and there's his scythe and there's his not-too-full change bag waiting to be fuller because if it is not filled the souls of people who had passed were going to stay here, and they're going to haunt this land, but the thing is most soldiers dont exactly intend to die when put in battle, on a sunny day. Every soldier expects to win. The smart ones prepare for the alternative ending, but there aren't a ton of smart soldiers out there in places like these.

And after every cannon fire, a cold air sweeps over the battle grounds, and it settles, and it settles, and then it gets colder, and then sometimes the cold leaves, but most of the time the cold stays. And over the course of this war, the grounds keep getting colder, the fog keeps getting denser, the amount of eyes that watch this war don't change much. They should be going down - but only smart soldiers mean less eyes.

I remember my first memory, and there's something that happens when you get your first memory, and there's something that happened to Cellbit and Bagi when they got their first memory. Something starts working, the gears start turning, like someone switches a lever and suddenly your eyes are light bulbs and your active, moving thoughts and transcribing mind is what makes the lights not turn off, and you know you were moving and breathing and living before, and you know these people around you who youre just seeing for the first time, and you dont know why but despite it being your first time being conscious and aware of this person you've known for however many years, you care about them so much.

There's a certain attachment that comes with sharing your first memory with someone - a parent, a brother, a home that you're acutely aware that you're not staying long in - and Bagi and Cellbit were only intending to share that between them, and of course the body they were eating, but by the time the light bulbs turned on and the gears started turning it was already cold, it was already so cold and they weren't running or hiding they were sat there because the gears were turning and the first thing you have the urge to do when your mind starts working is drink in the face of the first person you see - its your first real time seeing a person after all.

The feeling of cold didn't scare them like most people, it settled around them. The dense fog and the freezing mud against their bare knees and the bone chill that seemed to bake into their skin didn't scare them, its their first memory and although their instincts would usually scream to run, get away, their freshly working minds were just... confused. Quiet for the first time in a long time. Settled in spot.

Death itself had seen the corpses left around, chunks bitten out of them and claw marks mangling throats and something that had split the bones and sternum of the corpses. Death expected some big animal, something over 300 lbs that had somehow made its way into the battlefields by accident and was stealing kills and eating to survive - but what greeted him was two small creatures of desperation, of habit, of instinct and bonds that were aggressively apparent, they stunk of the same blood, of the same skin, of the same origins in one way or another. Death has seen many of kin, more often than not after their time when one was stone cold in its hands, but he was able to identify these two.

He had appeared to them, quite literally, and he did not look like any man - did not smell like any man, probably didn't taste like any man they had tasted, but cellbit had still swung his knife at Death's midsection, the softest part of the belly which usually allowed guts to spill and people to fall if placed correctly. Unfortunately for him the knife had only cut into smog, and his face made contact with knees and shins upon far-too-late realization that he had not only not hit his target, but under-stepped and instead fell to this demon's feet. The only thing he could utter was a soft "que diabos?" as large, freezing, soft hands reached down and wrapped themselves under his arms, bringing the boy to his feet. The only response to him was a firm "Language" and Bagi's own first word - a strangled cry of fear.

The soldier had nothing for Death, and Death had nothing in return but another degree of cold for the land.

The twins second emotion they experienced together was fear. Fear for one another, this thing that had found them, had appeared from nowhere, had picked cellbit up off the floor and taken the knife from him. They were afraid, which was understandable, and even expected, but as the demon's hand guided the knife into untouched flesh of the victim, and raised the slice of flesh to his teeth, a sense of familiarity washed over them. The criticism "tough." rattled around their minds, rolled around, made indents in the mold that would form them in the future. It was tough, it did stick in Bagi's teeth, it wasn't worth saving for a future meal, they could get better - they have gotten better, at least they think? A memory didnt wash to the forefront of their mind, but a feeling did. Of the warmth of a fresh kill, someone who hadn't been fighting for very long - who was mostly fat and not game. Of something they should've savored longer.

Death is not the ideal way to be Born, but neither is War, and Unfortunately the feeling of cold, of fog, of a hand guiding a knife into fresh meat, was now home for Bagi and Cellbit. Demon children and their demon guide, walking alongside Death. They had come to the conclusion that with death at your side, is there even reason to be afraid in a war? But Death had warned them "I am your Shepard as I am for all else, not your folding, nor your straw nor your pen. The coyote still come to feed, and you must be the stock, and you must be the water the stock drink, and you must be the folding, and you must be the Shetland who defends you." And they were the water, and they were the dog, and they were the stock, but they were never the pen that contained them.

The two left standing after the final cannon had fired were born of the same blood, and forged in the same fires. They were guided by the same Shepard, they were each other's sheep, they were each other's Shetland, they were each other's folding.

The unfortunate thing about a Shepard, is that although he may raise his stock, and he may buy dogs to defend them, and he may build housing to shelter them, the coyote are hungry, they are dangerous and they are stronger than sheep and in enough numbers they may even be stronger than the Shetland. In the dead of night, when the only thing standing between the coyote and the sheep is a fence, the Shepard leaves his stock to fate.

"They will be coming to collect you tomorrow." Death had whispered to the children he had cared for, had guided and watched as they honed their skills, sharpened their claws, survived and clawed their way up.

"Vindo nós pegar?" Bagi's soft voice rasped back at him in her mother tongue.

"There's nothing I can do, before you ask." Death had preempted, "I cannot join you, I cannot stop it from happening. I'm sorry."

Death's ears were familiar with the rolling sounds of tires, that were approaching from miles away. They would be coming to collect the children before dawn, the men would rush the cave they had made their temporary home, and they'd have to wade through the thin layer of blood both dry and wet that coated the floor, the bones that were strewn about - the best meal they could get in this environment. Death would stay the night, and Death would stay the morning, but the soldier's would only see two sleeping forms in the cave, and despite the smoldering fire it would be cold.

"Você vai ficar bem?" Bagi had spoken again, looking up at death. Her hand found its way to her twin's head, sleeping in his cot next to where she was sat on the floor, his head by her knee. They had allowed themselves to eat as much as they wanted tonight, it was their victory after all.

"I will be fine. But I can't join you." Death confirmed to her, a strange feeling bounced around his ribs. Something he was unfortunately, continuously familiar with.

"Quando vou te ver de novo?" She had finally asked, a frown tugging at her expression. She didn't fully understand what he'd meant. Of course something would happen after they'd won, but why couldn't he join them? He'd won alongside them, hadn't he?

And Death responded, "One day I will. Someday, when it's your turn to be put to rest, i'll be there. I'll be there to guide you again, and when that happens we can go for a boat ride together."

The girl was tired, she was full and although anxious she was content, and she had leaned her head against the demons arm, eyes fluttering as she fought sleep. "Um passeio de barco?" It was so silly to her that she was excited about it, had she ever even been on a boat? She couldn't recall even if she had.

"Mhm." He'd hummed, "A boat ride. I just need you to remember to carry some coins on you, okay? We have to pay to get on."

And Bagi fought to keep her head up, aggressively rubbing her forehead against Death's arm to try and wake herself up, but the only thing she could do before dozing off was mutter a confirmation. Coins. She could carry coins, that didn't seem too hard.

And in the morning, when boots stomped into the cave, and rough hands grabbed the two bone-chilled children from their cots, and yowling and screaming filled the cave, eyes watched the occurrence from the walls of the cave. And tears stained the wall where the eyes had watched, and from the cave a coldness was sucked out as if it was sealed from the world, never to be touched again.

As two children were loaded into the Prison Bus waiting for them on the road down the hill, they were screaming for Death. And Death watched.

'Never get attached to Mortals. You always get yourself hurt.' He was familiar with this, but he couldn't help the tears that fell into the dirt and killed the grass they landed on.

He knew he'd only see the mortals again when it was time for their eternal rest, but there were a lot of corpses on the war grounds - now abandoned, cold, foggy.

Badboyhalo's heart sunk like a stone down to the bottomest part of his ribs, and it beat against his sternum.

He has a job to do, he has souls to ferry.

He turned from the bus.

#qsmp #q!badboyhalo #q!cellbit #q!bagi #okay so i told u it was 2:30 am #that was when i began this #its now 3:45 am #hashtag worth it #i hope this was ok ijhkujhvghbjnkl

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