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laurancezvahlslefteyebrow · 9 months

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SHADOW KNIGHT HEADCANONS

aka things from my rewrite

idea from @xerith-42 <- <- <-

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Appearance:

They have pointed ears. They’re not as large as an elf’s or half elf’s ears, really just the size of a human’s ear… But pointed.

They’re skin sparkles. (Edward who?) Idk why I added this I just like the idea of Laury lookin like he’s rocking body glitter 24/7 ig. It’s most noticeable in direct sunlight.

They’re eyes are reflective, like a cats, and often glow in the dark. They’re eyes also appear more… empty… than a regular person’s. Almost uncanny.

When in their full Shadow Knight form, their irises become red, and the whites of their eyes turn black. The skin around their eyes also becomes red and cracked, almost irritated looking.

They have fangs. Much like this v

They each have a scar pertaining to the way in which they died. (Assuming it wasn’t something like poison). It is usually a dark grey or black color, but not always.

When they are premature, their fingers and toes are blacken. This is called the corruption. Each SK has at least some, but the amount tells you how long they resisted gaining their immortality. The longer they go without gaining their immortality, the further up the corruption creeps, only stopping at the shoulders and hips.

They have Rune Scars and Tattoos. The tattoo is located on their palms and is the source of their SK abilities. It’s embedded with the curse of binding so it cannot be removed or carved out. The scars are on their face, three claw marks on each cheek. These are referred to as The Tears. These scars enhance their SK abilities.

While in their full SK form, their scar runes turn black and emanate pure darkness. Their fingernails also grow into claws that are extremely sharp and nearly unbreakable.

All SKs appear pale, no matter their skin tone. They have no red/pink/orange undertones bc their blood technically no longer flows.

They often appear very ridged or mannequin like. Standing either too perfectly or too hunched over. Again, uncanny.

Because of all these physical traits, Shadow Knights are very easy to spot, assuming you know what to look for. Many trying to hide or blend in, will hide their heads, faces, and hands.

THE… OTHER STUFF:

Their body temperature fluctuates quite a bit. Generally, theyre cold to the touch, because yk their dead. But when they feel strong emotions like anger or happiness their temp rises, possibly to the point where they feel feverish. The only emotions that actively make them colder are sadness and fear.

Their temp also rises when the Calling comes a knocking. Rising hotter and hotter the longer they try to ignore or fight it.

^ Inspired by a convo with @xerith-42

It’s impossible to sleep in the Nether, though the reason is unknown. Because of this, Shadow Knights don’t require sleep. They still can sleep, but it’s not a necessity. Premature Shadow Knights however, still become tired and can still feel the physical repercussions of having no sleep.

Similarly, SKs also no longer need to eat or drink. However again, prematures do. Since not much grows in the nether, they’re forced to eat Nether Wart. It’s essentially a very tough, charcoal tasting mushroom. It’s their only source of food OR water as water cannot be found anywhere else in the Nether.

While they’re in the Nether, their blood becomes cold to accommodate for the extreme heat. Because of this they need to be careful about regulating their emotions while in the nether so their blood doesn’t overheat.

Nether time is faster than Overworld time. A year in the Nether is only a few months in the Overworld, if that.

Premature SKs can be killed the same ways a human can be, due to their lack of immortality. A full SK however, is a bit more tricky. Their physical form can be killed, though it is more difficult due to a combination of things, but they respawn. If their body dies, is will *poof* disappear and reappear back in the Nether on an alter. The amount of time it takes to respawn depends on the severity of their injury. A full SK can only be permanently killed with an enchanted Netherite weapon (hehe minecraft reference). These are extremely rare and hard to come by. …Zenix has one…

When a PMSK (Premature Shadow Knight) is trained, they fight against real, full SKs. They could very well be killed during their training, call it natural selection. The PM is expected to kill the Full SKs they’re fighting against.

Soul sand houses the souls of innocent lives taken by Shadow Knights. Their souls not only add fuel to their power, but also gives strength to the Shadow Lord/Shad.

In Shad’s eyes, someone with magicks or brains is often more valuable than someone who is physically strong. Though physical strength is needed in order to be a SK, if they are not particularly clever and they have no magicks, they aren’t very useful. Often used as simple pawns or sacrifices.

The first ever Shadow Knight was some random guy named Randal. He didn’t fit any of the criteria, in fact he was just some farmer who ate a bad potato and suffered the consequences. Shad only resurrected him to experiment a bit.

A Shadow Knight’s armor isn’t actually armor. It’s more like a shell that pops out when their body recognizes it’s needed. Or at least when it thinks it does. These shells are generally identical, but they do each have some variations depending on the person and their alignment. Their weapons are an extension of this shell as well, and can be any hand held weapon. Weather is a sword, hammer, mace, or even daggers. Swords are just most people’s go-to. Along with this, they cannot drop their weapons as they are basically a part of them. The only way to rid of it is by… sucking?? it back into the shell. Think of venom. But less… slimy.

They’re impervious to fire/lava. At any stage, full or pm.

Oooookay that’s all I got

Thanks for reading this far love ya mwah mwah

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year

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the fall of icarus

Pairing: Suguru Geto/Reader, hinted Satoru Gojo/Reader

WC: 3269 (do not perceive me)

Content warnings: canon typical violence, for both Star Wars and Jujutsu Kaisen. Also, I borrow some plot beats from the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arcs, so there are some potential spoilers if you haven't seen those yet.

I saw the lovely @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes A Galaxy collab and immediately knew I had to write something for our greatly beloved tragic bastard.

This was so much fun to write, as a mash up of two of my favorite universes. I did kind of play fast and loose with the lore of both series, but it was all in the name of ~drama~ so I feel like it was for a good cause. Two things I do want to mention, just for clarity's sake, is that Reader uses a modified version of Force Empathy, and that when a force user falls to the dark side, their eyes turn yellow. IDK if that's technically canon in Star Wars anymore, but I thought it was a cool detail from the older stuff and decided to use here.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don't have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

There is a specter that dogs your steps in the halls of the Temple. A name, only muttered in hushed whispers in the shadowed corners. Most will refer to him as the fallen one, as if saying his name will bring misfortune.

You know him as Suguru Geto.

He was your friend, once.

You remember his smile, and the way it made his dark eyes crinkle and his whole face soften. The way his big hands felt warm even through your layers of robes as he would correct your form during saber drills. The low, smoky timbre of his voice that made even the driest of texts hypnotizing to listen to.

Most importantly, you remember the day he left. Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo, freshly Knighted and already being hailed as some of the Order’s best and brightest, sent on a mission so important that they couldn’t tell you anything other than they were leaving. Gojo ruffled your hair and promised that he would bring you back something sweet. Geto pulled you into a hug and promised that they wouldn’t be gone long. You remember the sound of their laughter in the hangar, and the smiles on their faces as they waved goodbye from the cockpits of their starfighters.

Geto was right, they weren’t gone long. Just a few short days, long enough to miss them but not long enough to worry. When you got the ping that their ships had docked, you ducked out of meditation and hurried to the hangar to greet them.

When they emerged from their ships, you didn’t need the Force to tell you that something went wrong. You reached for it anyway, drawing it around you like a comforting blanket as you took in their expressions. Gojo had his eyes covered, a rare sight on Temple grounds, and walked without his usual boisterous charm. He half-heartedly ruffled your hair, resting his hand on your head for a moment before moving past you.

Geto avoided your touch entirely. His face was dark and drawn, black eyes inscrutable. He met your eyes for a second, before hurrying past you into the Temple. You reached out to him with the Force, and felt a wave of anger and pain so potent it hit you like a punch to the gut. The contact lasted for just a second, severed on his end as he turned to look at you. The expression on his face reminded you of a wounded animal backed into a corner, savage with pain. It was the first time he’d looked at you and made you believe that he could hurt you.

Things changed, after that. Gojo seemed to recover the fastest, bouncing around the Temple with his usual antics. He started seeking you out more, and finding increasingly transparent excuses to touch you, like draping an arm around your shoulders as you walked in the halls or dropping his head in your lap when he would find you studying in the archives. Each time, you would reach out with the Force, tapping into your abilities to connect to Gojo’s emotions. His control was ironclad, so you rarely were able to forge a connection, but there were sometimes where you caught a trace of a deep sorrow. On those days, Gojo seemed more withdrawn, and would burrow into your touch like a small child seeking comfort. You let him, using your abilities to push feelings of calm through the bond you shared.

Geto began avoiding you. Like Gojo, he made an effort to return to normal, but it fell through quickly. He no longer joined in on Gojo’s teasing commentary, and avoided your touch. You reached out to him with increasing desperation, trying to rekindle the embers of your connection, and were met with silence at every turn.

There were moments where you would wake up at night, sensing Geto’s presence outside your door. He would linger just outside your room, as if he couldn’t bring himself to knock. Each time, you would get up and go to the door. At first, you would open it to invite him in, but he would disappear before the door could slide open. After, you would stand behind the door, feeling his presence and letting him feel yours. You would rest a hand on the cold plasteel, and for those moments in the dead of night, it was almost like you could feel the warmth of his hand on the other side.

You also began to feel eyes on you. It’s not uncommon to be watched in the Temple, but it usually happens during lessons, sparring, or meditations, with instructors keeping an eye on students who might need assistance or masters looking at prospective padawans. Those eyes are usually calm and detached, the gaze feeling almost clinical as it passes over you. This gaze is heavy, like a physical touch. It feels almost… covetous. You feel it most when you’re alone, usually poring over a holocron in the archives or practicing your lightsaber forms late into the night. In those moments, you can feel those eyes following a bead of sweat that slips down your neck into the loosened collar of your robes like a lover’s touch, soft and possessive.

In your heart, you know who those eyes belong to. The Jedi teach their students to let go, and that attachment leads down a dark and dangerous path. But you can’t deny that you’ve looked at him the same way- stolen glances admiring the curve of his jaw, or the way his muscles flex under his tunic as he moves effortlessly through his saber forms. You’ve felt it, a need that simmers low in your gut, a dark whisper to sink your teeth in and never let go. It’s something that you’ve spent many hours of meditation trying to will away, very carefully thinking about anything else. It’s an honor to be chosen, to be brought to the Temple and trained. You won’t let this temptation lead you astray, and you won’t let this feeling call one of your dearest friends away from the Light.

Geto begins to spend more and more time in the archives. You see him moving like a specter, the light of the holocrons casting strange shadows over his bone white face. His eyes are dark and the bags under his eyes are darker, and you notice that his robes hang more loosely on his body. The next time that you see Shoko, you bring it up, and she shrugs helplessly.

“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want help,” she sighs. “All we can do is be there for him. Don’t worry too much, little light,” Shoko ruffles your hair affectionately. “He’s a big strong boy. Focus on your studies for now. Look for some fancy theological problem you can argue over with him once he pulls himself together.”

You swat Shoko’s hands away from your hair and smile. A voice calls her name, and she hastily puts out the very against Temple rules cigarette and throws it into a nearby wastebin. “Duty calls. Take it easy,” she gives you a little salute as she makes her way in the direction of the voice.

The smile on your face is weak, and fades when Shoko turns her back. She’s older and more experienced, and has known Geto longer. Still, you can’t shake the feeling of wrongness that has been dogging your steps, and is getting steadily more insistent as Geto continues to withdraw into himself.

Gojo is the next person on your list, but he’s been increasingly more difficult to pin down. Since being Knighted, he has fully come into his powers, and is a darling of all the masters. You hear whispers in the halls, calling him the strongest knight the Order has seen in over six hundred years. He is regularly dispatched on high profile missions and sent as an envoy of the Order to the Senate- you hear his name everywhere but rarely catch a glimpse of the man himself.

You never see him without his blindfold, anymore.

Geto is the moon to Gojo’s sun. He is still respected as one of the strongest of this generation of knights. He takes the missions he’s assigned without complaint. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s going to be back, and you have to make a nuisance of yourself to have any idea where in the galaxy he is. When he is at the Temple, Geto makes an effort to act like things are normal. He laughs and jokes with Shoko, and assists with the training of the younger knights when he can. His smiles don’t reach his eyes, and he still won’t touch you. You’ve reached out to him with the Force, and it’s like there’s an obsidian wall between you, glittering black and diamond hard.

Looking back, you think the catalyst was the Jinata mission. You don’t remember the details, but you vividly remember the pyre.Yu Haibara was your age, a new knight sent on one of his first missions without the supervision of a master. He was outgoing and friendly, liked by everyone around him. Even though the body was covered during the funeral, you could picture his warm brown eyes and bright smile. Kento Nanami, another young knight your age, had gone on the mission with him. His face was badly beaten, the firelight of the pyre flickering across the yellowing edges of bruises that spattered across his elegant features. He was stoic, face set and hands folded in the deep sleeves of his robe. You wished you could offer him a hand, any reassuring touch to soften the grief you could feel roiling off him like a storm cloud.

A few days later, Geto disappeared.

At first, you assumed that he had just followed his normal procedure- taken a mission and left without telling anyone. So you waited, despite the anxiety clawing at your stomach. A week later, you woke up, gasping from a dream filled with so much blood and fire you could taste the iron and smoke on your tongue. You hadn’t been able to make out any faces in the carnage you had witnessed, but your instincts told you that something had happened to Geto, wherever he had gone. You threw yourself into meditations, playing the dream over and over, trying to glean any clarity or information from the chaos. You knew the masters would dismiss this as an anxiety fueled nightmare without proof, so you searched for some kernel of truth that would prove this was a Force premonition.

You were still searching when the news broke. Suguru Geto, Knight of the Jedi Order, a murderer. He hadn’t returned within the time allotted for his mission, so the masters had dispatched a team to investigate. The knights had arrived to find the village Geto had been sent to help burned to ash, and every one of the villagers dead. The damning evidence was the distinctive wounds of a lightsaber blade on the corpses, burned almost beyond recognition.

Flight records showed that Geto’s ship had returned to Coruscant, and the Temple began a manhunt for the rogue knight. Gojo and Shoko joined the search, both of them dropping everything. The masters squawked in indignance at having their most recognizable knight and one of their only healers leave their posts to trawl Coruscant’s underbelly, and in the resulting chaos you were able to slip out and search.

Your abilities made you uniquely qualified for this. Closing your eyes, you reached out to the Force and let it wash over you. The noise of the endless city faded away, and the duracrete jungle bloomed with color as the auras of the people around you came into view. You shuttered your mind against the rising tide of thoughts, focusing your attention, looking for one signature as familiar to you as your own. You cast your net wide, and let yourself float in the sea of noise. You could be patient.

It caught you off guard, when you finally sensed it. A presence, so close to you that you could taste it in the back of your throat. You recoiled at the seething mass of anger and malice, and opened your eyes to see a figure shrouded in black, backlit by the flickering neon at the mouth of the alley you had hidden yourself in. You scrambled to your feet, putting a hand on the hilt of your saber. Before you could make another move, the figure moved, so fast it looked like they teleported the short distance down the alley. One hand caught yours, gently pulling your wrist away from your saber. The other grasped your chin, thumb and forefinger softly but firmly pulling your gaze up to their face.

Under the hood, you met their eyes. Blazing yellow irises, set in familiar fine boned features you’d dreamed about running your fingers over. Geto stood over you, radiating a power that he had kept locked away all your years together at the Temple. You felt your knees weaken under you, and the corner of his lips quirked up as he felt you sag in his grasp.

“Hello, little light,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over your face. “So brave of you, to leave your pretty tower and come looking for the murderer.”

“I don’t believe it,” you bring a hand up to his face, and he lets you touch him. His skin is warm, almost feverish. There is more color to his face than you have seen on his features for a long time, and the bags under his eyes have all but disappeared. All you can look at is his eyes. His deep inky gaze used to draw you in, and now you can’t look away from the burning gold of his irises. “Suguru, please. Tell me it isn’t true,” you beg, hand dropping to rest on his shoulder.

He grabs your hand, flattening your palm over his heart. You can practically feel it racing through the layers of muscle and black robes that now cover his chest. “Look for yourself, little light. All my secrets are finally open to you.”

You close your eyes. It’s not strictly necessary, but you find yourself looking for solace from the way his eyes seem to pick you apart. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the beat of his heart and tap into the Force. Geto fully opens himself to you, and you have to fight to orient yourself as the riptide of his emotions and memories threatens to drag you under. You find yourself choked by feelings that are not your own; grief so sharp it feels like a knife in your ribs, rage that feels like a fire in your throat, and beneath it all a yawning chasm of despair that slowly begins to drown everything else out.

Frantically you search through his memories. His most recent ones are a mess of blood and fire. You recognise the burning structures from your dream, and through his eyes you bear witness to the humming green of his lightsaber blade cutting through villagers.

You feel tears running down your face as you watch the carnage in Geto’s memories. Gasping, you sever the connection, jerking your whole body away from the man in front of you, achingly familiar but now wholly a stranger. He doesn’t let you get far, pulling your hand back to his chest and looping his other arm around your waist, preventing you from pulling away.

“Don’t run away, little light,” he croons, looking down at you as you fight to catch your breath through your tears. “Let yourself feel. You tried so earnestly to reach out to me, to ease my burden. The perfect little Jedi,” he sneered, his face twisting into something ugly for a moment before his features smoothed out again.

“The Order teaches us to be ashamed of feeling anything other than tranquility. They train us to be perfect little emotionless soldiers, ready to fight and die for their cause. How many friends do we have to watch die, how many funerals do we have to attend without being able to grieve?” he smoothed a hand over your hair, cupping your cheek with a gentle hand. “It shouldn’t be like this, little light,” he turns your face to meet his eyes. “We shouldn’t be running around the galaxy, solving every little problem for every person too weak to fend for themselves while being afraid of our own emotions, our own desires.”

“The Force made us strong so we could help the weak,” you counter.

“Why should we be given all this power to only serve those without it?” Geto asks. “Do you truly believe that because you were born with this gift, you are to live your entire life in servitude?” You see a gleam in his eye, a teasing twist to his mouth that sends a shiver down your spine. “Tell me, little light. When was the last time that you did something only because you wanted to? How many chances have you passed by to take something that you want?”

“I know of at least a few,” he purrs, his hand sliding back to the nape of your neck, his lips close enough to yours that you can feel the soft puffs of his breath. “I don’t need your empathy to see the longing glances, the way you would start to reach for me but catch yourself.”

Geto closes the gap between you, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’m right here. You don’t need to stop yourself anymore,” he whispers against your mouth. He’s so close, all it would take is a slight movement of your head. He waits for you to close the gap, and in that moment you think of all of the times you wished to be in this exact position, wrapped up in his arms and a breath away from the kind of kiss you’d only dreamed of.

He is a siren. The promise of his kiss and what it would mean calls to desires long since hidden in your heart. He is offering you everything you’ve wanted, and for a moment, you almost give in.

Almost.

“Not like this,” you whisper against his waiting lips. Calling the Force to you, you blast him back down the alley with the palm still pressed against his chest. You meet his wild eyes and settle into a fighting stance, pulling the hilt of your saber to your hand. The blade ignites with a hiss, the light casting harsh shadows in the dark alley. “Suguru Geto, I must take you in for crimes against the Galactic Republic.”

“So this is how it’s going to be,” he says with a sigh, standing to his full height and running a hand through his hair that had been blown out of its tie by your push. He pulls up the hood of his dark cloak, and steps out of the alley. You run forward, saber in hand, only to be greeted by a busy street of underworld denizens who recoil at the sight of your ignited blade. You frantically search for a trace of your old friend in the crowd. You feel a tug at your neck, as a familiar hand reaches around you to grab the pendant you wear.

“I’ll see you again, little light,” Geto whispers in your ear. He waves at you when you whirl around, your pendant twinkling in his hand, before he fades into the crowd around you.

#jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #jjk star wars au #if you made it this far mwah ily #thank you for indulging my insanity #ves.writes

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gonedreaminggg · 9 months

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Alright.

Council, we've got some work to do.

@laurencezvahlslefteyebrow @xerith-42 @cinnamontoastcroonch

I've been thinking about all of our shadow knights headcanons, and how they make sense in the grand scheme of things. Because right now, we are a bit disorganized.

We've taken bits and pieces from canon and fanon and smushed into this little autism creature. But if we want our headcanons to work, they have to work cohesively.

We're starting from the beginning, folks.

This whole shitstorm started with the doll headcanon. The mighty titan that got us to where we are now. We tossed around a lot of ideas, but I'll sum it up.

It all began with that fateful anon ask...

Mutually, I think we've decided that the doll headcanon can be boiled down to a symptom of the Shadow Knight transformation. No matter what kind of SK you are, you show symptoms. It's worse in premature SKs, and SKs who are farther from or trying to rebel against Shad. Seeing as the symptoms are part of the Spirit Magicks used on SKs, it makes sense that their condition also depends on distance. The symptoms also depend on Shad's power. While he doesn't have his physical form, his control over the SKs is more widespread, but not as strong. Once he has a physical form, his power is condensed, yet multiplied. Those closest to Shad have no control over themselves, but those farther are as free as ever.

The general doll symptoms are...

an uncanny valley appearance

episodes of paralysis, whether in certain limbs or the whole body

physical marks, in the form of whatever doll the SK most resembles (Gene with porcelain cracks, Zenix with strings on his wrists)

jerking, seizure-y episodes (either mentally present or not)

symptoms get worse the longer they resist. if they resist for too long, they succumb to complete paralysis, even if they're still sentient. since this only happens to premature SKs, they will still die eventually.

the progression of the symptoms stops when the SK completes their transformation.

This is where we sort of floated into the next idea.

What happens when Shad dies?

Since we decided that Shad's control over the shadow knights is an immensely powerful form of Spirit Magicks, we have to know what happens when he's gone.

Many ideas were tossed around for this one. Mostly because some of us want to save our favorite characters, and others will succumb to the whump.

What we (for the most part) decided on was that full SKs pass on into the next life, rid of the burden that's plagued them for centuries. One last gift from Shad for answering the calling. And premature shadow knights are done for. They succumb to their symptoms entirely, imprisoned in a body that they can't move, with a mind going 100 miles an hour.

With Aphmau's determined nature, and the extremely powerful friends she's made on her journey, she'd find a way to get them back. Specifically, Laurance and Vylad. However, they're husks of their former selves. They're not shadow knights anymore, but they certainly aren't human. They have episodes akin to what they've experienced from the doll symptoms. Staring off into space, pure catatonia and dissociation. These episodes can last from seconds to days. And they have no recollection of what's happened in between.

Basically, they lost the parts that Shad took from them. Then, they were replaced with Shad's Spirit Magicks. And finally, it was all stripped away one last time, turning them into these subhuman husks.

This was all wrapped up neatly, with a bow on top to seal the deal. You can see where things connect and how the two ideas relate. There's a clear stream of thought.

And then, we get into Xavier.

Oh my, Xavier...

You guys have completely sold me on Xavier being the first shadow knight. Like, this is canon, no one can say otherwise. I am putting my foot down.

However, we know he founded the Jury of Nine. But when did this happen? Before or after his transformation? And also, what type of SK is he? He couldn't be a full SK, because Irene would be the one he'd have to kill. Theoretically, Xavier gets killed and Shad resurrects him to experiment with minions and whatnot. So, he's probably the most rudimentary SK you could get. So, does the calling even exist yet? Because it doesn't have to.

This is the timeline I've come up with.

Xavier dies, either protecting Irene or fighting against her. Shad, who's already been banished to the nether, has a spiritual connection to Xavier. So he's able to resurrect him, even if he died in the overworld. Shad experiments with his Spirit Magicks, killing and resurrecting Xavier until he has the perfect monster.

But in this time, he gets so used to having Xavier around. And Xavier's so used to being in the nether, like there was nothing before it. Plus, with the constant resurrections, his mind is pretty scrambled.

Eventually, he gains a part of himself back. He remembers what's out there waiting for him. And he prays and prays to Irene to bring him back. And she answers.

He lives in the overworld for a while, already having the immortality of a full SK. His friends pass on, Irene hides away in her dimension. And Xavier finds purpose in the Jury of Nine. But he'll always be a failed shadow knight. At some point, something does him in and the world goes on without him.

We've also agreed that Laurance is Xavier's descendant. And sometimes, their memories bleed together. During Laurance's imprisonment in the nether, he has flashes of Xavier's long talks with Shad. Or fighting with Aphmau, he remembers arguments that they've never had, but Xavier sure did.

And this. This is the turning point.

This is where we get into the blue flames. And the rebellion.

Xavier was the first to rebel. I mean, there really was nothing holding him back. His blue flames come from his spirit, because he's still holding on to what's left. He uses his spirit to push through, and create the Jury of Nine, and help those in need. And also, give Shad a big fuck you.

Then, after Xavier's big show of rebellion, Shad invokes the calling. He inflicts every shadow knight with this, to give them incentive to stay. Because he gave them too much autonomy.

The blue flames become even more noble after this. Because it's a display of spirit, and strong will. And as time goes on... a display of anger.

As a shadow knight; to have control, you need to supress your emotions. Almost completely. This is what Vylad has been able to do. But in the process, he's bottled it all up. Then, the blue flames started to show.

Blue-flamed soldiers run hot, even hotter than regular shadow knights. When their rage is almost bubbling over, they would probably burn you if you touched them. We see Vylad and Laurance on the beach a lot, near the water. If they jump in to cool down, the water would start to boil.

Over time, the blue flames have become a symbol of rebellion. Something that shows you've overcome Shad's control. And then, the actual rebellion forms. With Laurance and Zenix leading the charge. Zenix, already branded with the blue flame, calls the rebellion Api Biru (blue lava). Informally, they're known as The Blue Flame.

Now, how do all of these things connect?

Shad's life energy.

Every shadow knight is endowed with part of Shad. It's the only way he knows how to gain control of the SKs. And all of our headcanons depend on how much control Shad has over someone.

The doll symptoms are worse when Shad has less control.

He'll let you pass on into the next life if you were loyal to him.

He didn't have enough control over Xavier, so he created the calling.

The blue flames being a symbol of rebellion against Shad's control.

IT'S. ALL. FUCKING. CONNECTED.

#jesus christ #what have i become #jury of redesign #aphblr #aphmau #aphmau mcd #aphmau minecraft diaries #laurance zvahl #minecraft diaries #shadow knights #shadow lord #vylad ro'meave #zenix mcd

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xerith-42 · 6 months

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dude. xerith. idk if you saw my reblog of madcatlad’s post, BUT. they cooked. the issue on the table: nether withdrawals. i’m insane about this.

very much exploring the idea of the calling being more about fighting the addiction that is the nether itself for shadow knights, rather than purely the aggression part.

thoughts? musings?

Oh Cinn, oh Cinn you've brought my attention to something beautiful.

Little known fact about me because I'm still pretty decent about over sharing on the internet, addiction is something I've actually thrown hands with before. The idea of the Calling as an addiction to the Nether?? Now that's a concept I can latch onto.

I think that there could be ways to satiate withdrawal, but not in an exactly helpful way. The Calling is in Shadow Knights brains like "Oooh you wanna kill your loved ones and come back to the Nether soooo bad." But minor acts of violence and arson can make it shut up. Enough bloodshed, such as what happens at the Werewolf Wedding, is enough to make it so a knight isn't drawn to the idea of killing their loved one anymore because the urge for blood has been answered. Of course... Most Shadow Knights fighting the call aren't exactly happy when something like the Werewolf Wedding happens to them.

As for the urge of the Nether, they could always try to answer that with things that are like the Nether or remind them of it. Sitting by a fire, setting things on fire, sitting in a pool of hot water that can at least try and simulate lava, setting things on fire, existing in the bitter dry heat of an Arizonan morning, or setting things on fire. The Calling always responds best to the most violent solution, and even while trying to satiate it, it's still pulling at the mental strings of a knight to make the most violent decisions possible.

That idea of being able to sit by a fire instead of setting something ablaze really sucks for Knights who might have been traumatized by the Nether and struggle to be around fire for very long as a result, Laurance.

A lot of moments of a premature Shadow Knight lashing out aren't necessarily because the Calling is making them want to kill, it's because it's making them want to go back to something they know is bad for them. It's a drug that they've overdosed on and are trying to run away from still present in their veins and urging them to take another dose, regardless of its lethality. That kind of mental gymnastics and battle wears down at a person even when they aren't actively fighting. Even if they aren't in their head fighting the Calling and it's urges, it's still there. They still think about it.

Laurance doesn't want to go back to The Nether. He would rather die again than go back there. But when he sees the frame of a portal, when he's nearby one that's unstable, he has to fight. He has to fight his body and its urge to go back to that hell. Just one hit will make him feel better. Just a chance to touch netherack and breathe that ashy air will soothe his worries. Because being reminded of the Nether, even if it causes a trauma response, does cause a part of his brain to feel good. The Calling sees fire and gives him a shot of dopamine and excitement.

Wouldn't it just be so nice if he went back? If he didn't have to feel this constant drain? If he was in the Nether then the Calling would shut up, right? Wouldn't it be so amazing to just feel this good all the time? He's already dead, what damage can be done to his body afterwards?

Of course the Calling has two components, both addictive. One is of course the urge to go to the Nether. The other is that urge to kill your loved one and gain immortality. Doing one only makes the other feel stronger. Oh, you sat next to a Nether portal and made it so you're now comfortable in the over world? Bet you wanna kill your lord right about now, huh?

What's that, you actually killed your lord? Well, don't you just wanna come home to the Nether where you're surrounded by people who have all done the same and won't hate you for it? Go on, you know you want to.

Like everything else, it comes down to the Shadow Kings need to control. If he can make Shadow Knights into addicts of stuff directly associated with him, they'll be more loyal. They'll serve him to get a fix of bloodshed and hell fire. They'll come running back to him after ruining their lives for his enjoyment, and they'll fall at his feet for the chance to become a higher up in their army. He deprives them of everything they ever could have had and calls it freedom.

#not to like #get real personal #but I have been falling back into some of my vices due to an ongoing depressive episode #so being able to project this onto my favorite block shaped brain worms is really nice #hope you liked what I cooked up Cinn #you usually do :)#minecraft diaries #aphblr #text post #laurance zvahl #mcd #answering asks #minecraft diaries laurance #mcd laurance #shadow knights

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the-martyrfication-of-the-matron · 9 months

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I love all the world building you’ve shared so far and the details about the religions !!!!!!!!! Will your version of the nether have the same type of world building ? In jessons story the nether really just contained a castle and then the rebellion’s safe hold. Though here are you going to take it an actual kingdom with surrounding villages or forts or even temples for worship of the judge ? You said before that the shadow knights only made up a part of the judgements kingdom, so is there paths to travel in the nether ? Are you going to go into detail about how all of the judgements groups plus SK work together in both worlds ? Also are you going to talk about the premature shadow knights or any ruins of the first base that was created after the judgement was sealed in the nether ?

Fukcing love getting Judge questions lmao yayyyyyy. also tyyyyy

(was going to answer it yesterday but was busy, sorry)

The Nether/The Abyss will be getting a bunch of world building too, because i'm a completionist and I will not create (or adopt) a world and not fully develop it lmoa.

The Abyss, at its very heart, has the fortress. It's almost part of the abyss, instead of being a structure built within it, and it is obviously where Judgement rests, and keeps his sacrifices and personal prisoners. It's bare of most furniture, since he has no need for physical comforts when he is not a physical individual, but he has his throne and his dining table, where he hosts feasts bc every god needs to show its followers some sign of love occasionally. his throne is like surrounded and adorned with candles and bones, and generally just offerings from his followers who would (and are trying to) end the world just to please him.

SKs (or just 'Knights' in my rewrite) at first began camping up around the fortress in tents and small hiding holes, when they were first created, however over time, they began to create more complex structures to house themselves and exist within. Humans also contributed, when they began being invited into the abyss to worship, so a fully-fledged society and culture began to develop, with art and entertainment, and music all individual to the city. The city around the fortress is actually liveable for the average person, if the average person were able to stomach violence and such enough to not run into the dark corners of the abyss in fear and disgust.

Temples do exist around the city, though they do serve different purposes. For example, temples on the outskirts of the city, closer to the wraith fields (i'll... get to that... at some point. Also, wraith = shadow souls), are used for human occupants to sacrifice themselves to host wraiths, however those closer to the centre of the city are unable to do this, and so they will be used for other means of worship, which i won't go into right here bc it's religion talk. i'll save it for another post (potentially).

Large communities of Destroyer worshippers that live in their own villages and such do have access to the nether, though it can be rather... inconsistent. Doorways don't stay open forever, especially when made by weak magic users, so they will only have access every couple of weeks for a few hours at a time. However, this is enough for them. Messengers are sent back and forth, as are resources, materials, prisoners etc. These particular communities often have at least 1 knight within them, usually between 2-4, and the ones with more knights are considered more highly by other worshippers (hence why Cotk is one of the most well-known judge-worshipping communitiy, since there are 10 knights) and other knights will try and fill the space if one that inhabits an overwold village dies. The city is great but many knights do enjoy the freedom of the overworld, and ruling over their own small community.

They function very similarly to normal villages, except they don't have a lord. The hierarchy has humans that converted to the religion at the bottom, then the humans who were born into the religion, then the human priests and priestesses, then the Knights, then human prophets, and then Judge himself. The hierarchy within the Knights also exists, with 'heretic' (irene-worshipping) prem knights at the very bottom, and Judge's generals (usually mutated or magic-using knights who were born into the religion) at the very top. However, Knight hierarchy can be easily cheated, depending on how violent or cruel a knight is getting them landed higher on the pyramid than they are meant to be.

The human inhabitants of the over-world villages often act like normal people, except they have a more... peculiar relationship with death, and willingly send their dead to the abyss hoping they would be turned into knights (though that is often not the fate they meet). They also have a similar, though undeniably particular, culture to the city, with their own personal flairs and quirks.

The City within the Abyss functions similarly to that, of course, except the humans within the abyss are often thought of (and think of themselves) more highly than over-world humans, and are put on a similar level to low-level knights instead of on an entirely different tier. They are able to score a variety of jobs, however most humans try to get jobs in the temples, in the fortress, or trying to service the high-ranking knights however they can, as those are the more... high-value jobs they are able to achieve. They cannot get much higher, and if they show any potential to, they will be turned into knights to 'keep the balance'.

Prem knights are treated kinda like babies, and are always being spoken about as if they'll always end up killing their most loved individual. For the first few years, this is how it's spoken about, and then slowly, as the other knights begin to realise that they don't seem to be maturing any time soon, begin to accuse them of heresy and not being fully committed. Knights and humans alike will then try and pressure them into maturing, and if they don't bow to the pressure, will sacrifice them to Judge to display what a true knight should act like.

Prem knights that don't want to mature will then often run off outside of the city to try and find somewhere safe to live, but will often be eaten by wraiths before they even manage to past the Field. Those that do manage to cross will likely be eaten by something else that resides where the light of the cities fires cannot reach.

#aphmau #aphverse #rewrite #aphblr #minecraft diaries #mcd #ranthredo #lycoris radiata/ranthredo #abyss lore

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silverjurors · 6 months

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Hii!

So, I wanted to ask, how did Janus lose his eye in ur rewrite/what's ur hc?

(PS. Finals are killing me, send help.)

Hiiii I want you to know that I love this question and I wish you the very best of luck with the results of your final exams (I have mocks soon AAAA) because the education system is hell and I too cannot wait to escape it

Okay. So in my rewrite, Janus lost their eye when they were about 19-ish. I have already said on one of my previous headcannon dumps that they lost it preventing an assassination attempt. This is still true! But here is some elaboration on it and the aftermath that occurs :3

- Yes they lost their eye protecting Zane (Yes I am aware that I base a significant amount of their character around Zane it's the ONLY CANON THING WE KNOW ABOUT THEM OKAY DON'T JUDGE ME)

- Once again, all of this (and by this I mean trauma) is for Zane because they have exactly 3 people they care about and Zane is top of that list

- Zane wasn't actually the target of the assassination attempt (it was Vylad) but they look rlly similar in my re-write so the assassins decided that it would just be easier to try and kill both of them

- These assassins were a small group of premature Shadow Knights who were working as mercenaries that may or may not have been hired by Garte

- Vylad did in fact die (v sad rip Vylad u will be missed bestie) but Zane gets to live and was mostly unharmed because, unlike Vylad's personal Guard who saw Shadow Knights and promptly bailed, Janus has no self preservation instinct and went "OK we fight until either I die or you all die"

- So Janus then proceeded to straight up beast-mode 2 premature Shadow Knights in 1V2 combat and got a poisoned arrow to the eye for their service

- The minute the adrenaline ran out they collapsed because OW

- This did actually put them in a medically induced coma for like two weeks afterwards while they got healed

- Also this did have a slightly weird shift on their biology, like sharper teeth, that definitely has nothing to do with my eventual plan to make Janus a Shadow Knight by my S3 definitely not but that's not relevant so let's just collectively ignore it like they did when they woke up

- Janus spent a good chunk of time afterwards re-learning how to fight and use their swords because their depth perception was terrible

- He also walked into several walls and almost fell down several flights of stairs a few times

- This was the incident that gave them the idea that they can't die

- Which led to reckless behavior when they could finally re-join the battlefield, but it's totally fine because for some reason they seem a lot less affected by pain than they used to be

- Sometimes they have Visions in that eye. They are convinced these are probably PTSD nightmares (they aren't)

- Their eyes also get tired really easily after all that, because ow, so they don't read very much

- Chronic pain. Like, holy shit, so much chronic pain in that eye specifically

Uhhhh that's all I got I think, thank you for the ask I love to talk and never ever shut up <3

#minecraft diaries #mcd #mcd rewrite #janus the silver death #janus mcd #janus aphmau #minecraft diaries rewrite #please send me more asks i live to scream into the endless abyss that is the internet #implied zanus #because its not THERE but it is canon and present in terms of character motives #zane ro'meave #is mentioned #and this was also how #vylad ro'meave #died in my rewrite so he gets a tag too

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ghostfan3 · 6 months

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I said I wouldn't publish this short story but my friend convinced me to do it... It's all on you @negativerockstar (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

I hope that @skylertheminish forgive me for using characters of Ceru, Arma and Carer in my short story.

It's basically the short story to the picture I posted of Cassandra the Mismagius trying to adopt the smol knight.

"Galar, region know for it's league, tea, extensive history and many castles and ruins around the land. Willow was mostly interested in ruins aspect of the region since many ghost types made they home in them. She really wish she had time to study local ghost living in this ruins, but unfortunately this was not the reason for her current visit to the region. Local organisations specialized in pokémon rescue, call her asking for help with tough case of ghost type that proof to be too difficult for their staff. She made an appointment with a representative of the organisation to visit the following day to assess the situation and possibility of taking this pokémon under her care. At the moment she was doing her best to be ready just in case in this difficult sytuation, but with her trusted team she manage to get everything she may need. Warden the Dusknoir got all kinds of medicine and herbs they may need to calm the overwhelmed with sytuation ghost. Onyx and Jade, her knight fire brothers got all kinds of foods and ingredients to cook a delicious meal. Right now the only missing in action was Cassandra the Mismagius who was supposed to bring berries and sweets. Willow was walking around looking for her, hoping she just got disorientated in the crowd. Shade her trusted shiny Gengar, her ace and best friend try to calm her down as she started to panic a bit. Thankfully, she spotted a familiar witch pokémon among the crowd, only to notice her in company of particular kind of pokémon.

-" You must be joking..."- Willow quickly approached her Mismagius who was sharing bought berries and sweets with young pokémons. Shade was fallowing behind in Willow's shadow a knowing smile on his face.

-"Missss?"(Can we?)- Cassandra ask floating beside two small knights as Willow stop in front of the group and took deep breath.

-Oh for the love of Arceus... NO! You can't adopt them!- Willow said tiredly, after yet another attempt by Cass to adopt some baby pokémons. Worst part the little ones weren't even aware of what was going on.

Willow breath big sigh of relief when the trainer of the little ones was not that far away. He was kind young man that even have small laugh when white hair girl explained the sytuation to him. He even allowed himself to be invited to a afternoon meal at a nearby café as a apology for all the fuss. A ghost specialist bought both meal for a gentleman and little ones. She smile as small knight were playing with both Cassandra and Shade while she and their Carer have a pleasant small talk. She must have caught a lucky strike from Victini since the Carer of small knight work for organisation that call her. After explaining who she was, young man rember that someone mentioned to him that they call a specialist to help with recent ghost type case. Before soon conversation came to topick of little Ceruledge and Armarouge

-"Premature evolution you say...."- Willow look at little Ceru with sadness in her eyes. She wished it was a first time she heard of such think but unfortunately it wasn't. Her memory quickly moved to the little Froslass she took care after taking her from trainer who evolved only few hours old Snorunt, poor baby girl at lest she was doing better now. That at lest explained how such young Ceruledge could actually exist. Arma story wasn't better.

-"They doing better now, but there is still a long way to go"- said the Carer.- "Anyway you look a bit lost earlier, are you not familiar with city?"

-"Not particularly"- Admited Willow.-"Most of me time in Galar was usually spent in ruins and other wild areas, I'm not familiar with city layout accept for shops and pokémon centers locations."

-"If you like I could be your guide for now and give you a lift to organisation headquarters tomorrow"-Carer offered.

-"Oh? I would not want to cause problems..."

-"It's not a problem, beside Ceru and Arma seems to be already fond of your Pokémon, I'm sure they would like to play with them again."

White haired girl couldn't deny it. Cass already in her big auntie mod adopted small knights into their little family. Willow thank Carer for a offer and promised to repay him somehow. But before she could ask what she can do in return, she felt a tap on her leg. She looked down to noticed Ceru looking at her with her arms up. How she could not fulfil this adorable request? She pick small Ceru on her arms and was meet with happy chirps in return. Look like her pokémon got her into another big adventure with new friends again. Willow giggled as she couldn't argue this adventure definitely wouldn't be boring one."

#ghost type #trainer willow #pokemon #mismagius #gengar #dusknoir #armarouge #ceruledge #smol knights #skylertheminish

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benevolentcalamity · 2 years

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Vampire Lord [Dreven] x Female!Paladin!Reader

If he isn't hubby material when I'm done with him then what point is there in doing a vamp-

I'm kidding, I'm kidding. But yea, this was sooooo overdue, yannow?

Warning! Contains: Smut, blood drinking, tooth-rotting fluff.

CURTAINS!

Perhaps you've seen him, maybe in a dream.

Within a dark castle, erected in the heart of the otherwise serene heartlands, a fearsome vampire rests, as though willed to exist by the wives' tales and the deepest nightmares of every child. With a wave of his hand, he sent even the bravest knight to his knees, and spread his poison throughout the lands. Quickly he reduced the beloved monarchy to naught more than a glorious crypt of nothingness, and ruled the island with an iron fist.

But then she - ye, rather - was born.

In the pits of despair itself, a babe blessed by the gods grew into the next hope of the island. With a holy sword clenched tightly within her hands, she set out upon a snow white horse into the castle, as the hope of her people. As though sensing the defeat of the Lord, the flora came back alive, and the sun emerged from the murky clouds.

However, the hero was also said to have been killed in the fight, having laid down her life to stop him.

As though witnessing her sacrifice, the gods granted her a gift of immortality, and she rose again from the ashes. To protect her village, and stand against the Vampire Lord for the rest of his days - a blessed hero, a legend forevermore.

This is where you, "[Name] the Everlasting]", and your story began.

... Of course, legends change to match the stories writ, and thus many details and names are eventually forgotten, until you never died at all. Now, you are simply the Everlasting Hero, a living legend among the mortal humans whom die and leave their legacy and progeny to carry on.

Enough.

Rolled up scroll tightly held in your fist, you leave your cavalry behind, crossing the black iron bridge into the almost-fortress the castle has become. Like a theatre play the bats come flying out upon your entry, the horrified yelps of your men prompting them to stay away. You are used to it by now - the pleas for you to come back safely don't even faze you anymore.

Once your horse is safely hidden in the shadows you dismount, rubbing her chin with assurance of bringing her back safely to the stables of the kingdom. You say kingdom, because, well... We'll get to that.

The inside of the castle is a sight to behold, let it be known. It’s slowly evolving, maintaining its roots in gothic romantic architecture whilst embracing the machinery in various rooms. Elegant candlelight illuminates the pipes protecting electric wires as well as water, the occasional thumping of a distant steam hammer keeping everything functional not even an earthquake.

Paraphernalia of past heroes that attempted to take your role to ‘relieve you’ or something rests also on the walls collecting dust. This alone had been a lesson to those whom attempted to slay the Lord instead of you, as... pure as their intentions had been. All you yourself can hope for is that they learned, and no more souls have to be lost fulfilling a destiny that’s not their own.

Thankfully they have, only needing your blade to assure them they don’t have to try.

You know this layout like the back of your hand, having fought him basically all over. If he’s anything, he’s crafty, and so you’ve been ambushed here and there and wherever only to come out on top once again. A scourge like him could never overtake the forces of justice, after all, and his numerous defeats brought prosperous flowers to mark victory.

Seeing no more need, you unclasp your cape, and it glides graciously to the banister down below you upon your ascent the of oak stairs. At your back, the light of the foyer and main rooms fades to the wind, leaving only the flickering of the candles to keep you company. Outside, the wind howls as though in premature grieving, the clouds darkening, mimicking lighting of a theatre tragedy.

Your one hand falls to your blade as you ascend to the top, the grotesquely stretched awaiting hallway greeting you with the little flames slowly turning crimson. Clearing your throat, you progress, and eventually the two standing candelabras light a bright gold, illuminating the awaiting black doors. Intricate woodwork carved with love and dedication to the craft, portraying a figure blotting out the sun over a thorny glen.

Once you approach, they open, the moonlight shining through the increasing rift, and there stands the Lord himself.

Icy blue skin crinkles in delight, deep red eyes amidst dark sclera lighting up with glee as his lips stretch into an impossible grin showing indescribably ferocious fangs. A curtain of snow white hair billows in the night’s bitter breeze, creating a portrait of elegant evil. Dressed to the nines in a suit holding elements of death and ornate propriety, he is ready to receive you in this next encounter.

“So you’ve finally returned to me,” He purrs. “I must say, t’is such a shame I cannot come see you for a change of pace... You and me, tangled up in our beautiful bouts over your beautiful kingdom, t’would be a scene only a poet could hope to replicate.”

“I didn’t take you as one to enjoy poems and sonnets,” You retort, crookedly smirking. “Perhaps come by a tavern when you’ve the time, you’ll enjoy what the bards come up with for song, maybe.”

He palms his chest, eyes widening as though you’ve dealt a blow to him already. “Why, how you belittle yourself! You should know by now, I’d rather hear you sing of me, be it in battle, or...”

“Oh, would you shut up,” You snort, advancing, closing in on him like a shark.

And you wind your arms around his hips, him towering over many a man, as his cradle your shoulders. Leaning down, he places a kiss at your crown, before cupping your face and locking your lips into his. They’re cold, as the dead well are, but they taste of cider and raspberries, as though he had prepared for your return. Leaning back so he can lift you, you part your lips to welcome his surging tongue, arms winding around his neck to keep stable.

Snorting with amused impatience he strips you of your armor, leaving only the paladin’s tunic and pants underneath. Wrestling with your tongue as he carries you to his iron peacock bed, only breaking from you to drop you onto it, climbing over you to carry on once he’s sure you’re comfortable. Cradling your face, he purrs at your fingers combing through his hair, finally breaking the kiss truly so you’re able to breathe.

“You can’t keep prematurely withering nature just so you can see me sooner, you get that, right?” You tease, fiddling with his collar.

“Not in the slightest.” He accompanies the jeer with a grin of his own, leaning down and giving your jaw a nip. “But they won’t be able to tell - you’ll be spending another autumn and winter fighting the fearsome Lord.”

Leaning down, he gives you another kiss, laying down beside you and easing your hair from its braids, pulling a [h/c] tendril to his lips. Elegantly letting it fall, he tugs you closer to him, fitting nicely against you as he does. One hand resting on your stomach, he cradles your head with his free arm, peppering your forehead with kisses, unashamedly basking in you like you’re the most beautiful work of art this world has ever seen.

“Our time apart does seem to stretch into eternity, even though it truly doesn’t,” You admit, welcoming his knee between your legs. “I admit it, the spring and summer aren’t short enough.”

“And yet I must acknowledge they must be, and you must be allowed apart from me.” He gives your cheek another kiss. “My darling... Would it be so wrong for me to seek you in the nights of these seasons? You have said it would be...-”

“Shhh...” You reach up, kissing him. “You and I both know it’s a risk we can’t afford to take. If someone were to see you...”

“The kingdom has become lively, even at night,” He sighs. “And you’ll be noticed leaving and followed... Nettlesome, truly.”

“But that means we have to cherish the time we do have,” You assure, giving him a comforting smile. “We will always have enough time - you remember that, right?”

Immediately he brightens once more, nodding. “Yes. Listen to me, being so foolish. We have but eternity, as is our vow.” He leans in, nipping your ear. “Wife.”

Centuries ago - or an entire millennium? - you had a particularly ugly, theatrical duel. You must’ve thrown each other all over this castle, reshaping and even flattening some of the architecture in the strife. Ferocious as he always had been, he was determined to finally best you, and rid himself of this neverending squabble. At last, it seemed he would fulfill this dark desire, as he had you defenseless underneath him, his fangs prepared to drain you of your eternal blood.

But then, a question burned into his mind: the same that had tortured you even before that.

Is this worth it?

He exists as a foil to the king from way back when; the darkness that could never truly be purged. In his rage towards his undying fate he threw his might against the kingdom and slayed the king. However, tragically his abyssal hunger wasn’t quelled, and his anger led him to kill any hero that would rise to lay claim to his head.

When you were born, he only became even angrier. Not at you, never at a babe that bears no sin - at the knowledge he would never find rest. He himself was doomed, in his blackened heart; he would not know satiation, rest, or warmth, for he was a being meant only to suffer and inflict suffering in turn. All in that time he lived, he was only ever angry at his own existence, taking it out on those who tried to disturb the peace he tried so hard to make for himself.

What would he do after you were truly dead? Would he finally be satisfied, or would it be the king’s death played by a different actor? He would be waiting yet more centuries, millennia even, for another that could finally bring him to the rest he so desperately cried for. Not to mention, it wouldn’t make him the least bit happy to kill you.

Realizing this, he relented, but just as you began reaching for your holy blade, he wept. Wept that he was truly doomed, wept that you would share the misery of immortality even with your blessed existence. Once he calmed, he asked that you not end that bout the same as the last ones, but not in surrendering to him. When you asked what he meant... Well, even you don’t recall his answer, only that you put your animosity aside and just... talked.

This is where your being gone for autumn and winter began: you would simply start coming here to speak with him, or just keeping him company to muse over what comes next. Before long it was like you never fought at all, like you were born just to be together; like you weren’t meant to cross blades to begin with. Forgetting his hunger, perhaps even exiling it, he began to smile, laugh, and dance. Even you, who had once grown tired of acting happy and bright, grew to sing and twirl and find warmth even in this place.

But it wasn’t enough. Your hearts began to ache for more, until one winter’s night he held you close and kissed you.

“If you’ll no longer take me as your foe,” He said so tenderly into your ear. “Then please, embrace me as your husband.”

That was a good nine centuries ago - to the both of you it came and went in a blink. He put a crest on your heart, and you entrusted your blood to him, and you only parted when the flowers began to bloom once more, to keep up appearances with the legend and, more importantly, keep yourselves safe.

“Dreven.”

He raises his head, acting as though he hadn’t begun drifting away. “Hm?”

“I...” Your cheeks turn pink, and you turn onto your side to properly face him. “Have you ever... well...” Faltering like you are isn’t helping him understand, and it shows in how he looks at you with the eyes of a curious pup.

“Speak, sweetheart.” He comfortingly wraps his arms around you. “Centuries later, and you’re still so shy when you entrust me with your heart.”

“... Do you want me?” You ask after a moment of trying to unfreeze your tongue.

For a moment he’s visibly confused, trying to understand what you mean. He’d not thought about it, considering he’d asked about sex only once and mentioned it never again when you dismissed the very notion. Not to say you coldly refused him anything, but you were so uncertain that you even could have kids, let alone care for them. And he, being undead, has no hope of having them himself. This knowledge he’d long accepted, however; you’d just not known what to do.

Then it clicks, and he smiles.

“Of course I do. Do you want me as well?”

Not feeling as stable laying down you sit up, him following. Scooping up your hand, he gives it a squeeze.

Swallowing, you nod. “I... I love you so much,” You murmur. “I want to share not just this eternity with you, but every essence of who I am, so you can embrace me as I have you.”

It dawns on you. It isn’t sex for the sake of pleasure you long for, nor is it children just to feel some accomplishment - it’s the joining of your soul and his, an expression of your love so pure. The completion of your love, consummating your marriage, it’s all you really want.

You just want to be with him.

Just as your innate self-doubt can try and take it back, he leans in and kisses you, eyes holding a tenderness he only allows you to see.

“What a thing to say...” He whispers, cupping your face. “My sweet, I want you so badly that it pains me. But I would never disgrace you for acting without invitation. If you’ll let me, then I will happily hold you close, and make love to you.”

Your heart swells with adoration, and you tug him in, and as his arms wrap around you your body warms and cools with reassurance. Raising your arms above your head, you exhale with a soft smile as he unties and frees you of your tunic. Once your breasts are freed he cups them delicately, leaning down to knead them like dough. Just as gently he lies you down, laying between your legs to better access them.

“Mmm...” He purrs. “Oh, [Name]... Every inch of you is so perfect...”

His kisses are deep and bracing, his body melting into your every crevice. Even with all your clothes soon being on the floor, he doesn’t overstep and act without your permission. Even as his erect cock begs to be inside of you, and the carnal instinct to take gnaws at his mind, he is showing great care in responding in kind to your vulnerability.

“I love you...” He breathes between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you...”

Breathing hitched from the arousal bubbling in your hips, you wrap your arms around his neck, spreading your legs. You jolt, if slightly, when his cock graces your clit.

“Please...” You whimper, feeling your wetness dribbling down your skin. “... I-I... Oh, Dreven, please...”

“Please what?” He purrs, nipping at your jaw. “What does my sweet wife want?”

You look up at him, vulnerable, pleading - and fuck are you sexy. “... Please, come inside...”

The unintentional joke towards him needing permission to enter a house has him chortling, kissing your lips as he readies himself. Ohh, he’s big, you can feel it already...

As though to assure you of his care for you, and his promised delicacy, he cradles your body sweetly, kissing you less with animalistic desire and instead with love stretching into the end of time. For a moment it feels as though something is shifting inside of him, but before you can ask if he’s alright he’s pushing slowly inside you.

“Gh-!” You arch up into him, hanging on as if for dear life, to which he pauses and peppers your cheek with kisses of assurance. “I-it’s so big...”

“I know,” He murmurs. One hand goes to your clit, rubbing it to prepare you some more. Like magic, he has the right pace, rubbing you all the right ways, and before you know it you’re moaning and mewling as he watches you completely engulf him.

For a moment he doesn’t move, giving your body time to adjust to his size. Holding you close with one hand on the bulge it creates, he nips at your neck, kissing you sweetly.

“You’re doing so good, darling.” He sweeps your hair behind your ear. “You... ha... You feel divine.” Is that a...?

“I love you...” You breathe. “Oh... Dreven, my love...”

Once you’ve adjusted, you nod, and he holds you tightly as he begins to thrust. Every time he glides back inside of you he swells, getting more aroused each time. His breathing grows labored with desire, eventually sounding like a caged beast, his restraint palpable despite it. Even you can feel it: he doesn’t want to risk hurting you and taint your memory of entrusting him with your virginity, traumatizing you out of ever opening up this way again. He loves you so much, and it’s killing him that he can’t unleash the animal and keep you safe at the same time.

Cool lips gracing your neck, he coils like a spring, soon sinking his teeth into you as he has before. The sensation sends a warmth through your skin, and a moan follows an uneven gasp from your throat. One hand going to the back of his head you arch, his drinking of your blood adding to the pleasure until you can think of nothing else but him. How he loves you, how he cares for you, how badly he wants to keep you close that nothing in this world can harm you, but at the same time trembling before the might you display. Every bit of you is perfection in his eyes, a limitless sea of beauty he will happily drown in.

Opening your legs more widely, you soon pull them up, hooking your knees in your hands. Letting his cock in even deeper, you mewl as he finally hits that sweet spot he’d been looking for. Belly stretching slightly to show how deep he is, your body happily pulls him deeper and deeper, and before long he’s letting go, both of your bodies unable to restrain any longer.

“A-aah!” You cry out, him finally ceasing drinking and licking your wounds until they heal. “O-ooohh! Aah! Y-yes-!” Your insides mold to his shape, intending to let no other dive into it. “Yes, yes, yes-! Aah!”

Cupping your face, he pulls you into a deep kiss. The taste of your blood doesn’t last long on his tongue, your mewling mixing perfectly with his growls and groans as he wholeheartedly claims you whilst professing his eternal love. It all fits together so well, until you can no longer live without each other. The very realization makes your heart swell with affection for your husband, and before you know it tears are pouring down your eyes.

He notices, and his eyes go wide in alarm as his pace comes to a screeching halt. “Sweetheart, are you alright?” Feeling around with his hands, he tries to find a wound or some way he had hurt you without realizing it.

Your hand delicately rests on his face. “C-Cum with me...” You whimper. “Please, Dreven, cum with me...”

He relaxes, smiling with a nod. Wiping your tears from your face he tugs you back into that kiss, continuing his pace. He grows hotter and hotter inside you, swelling until he almost can’t move, until-

His head raises up as though to let him roar, and yours falls back as you cry out in shared orgasm. Snapping his hips, he cums inside once, twice, thrice... four? Five, nay, six times with a driving thrust. Pulling out with an oddly comedic ‘pop’, he falls beside you and tugs you into himself, holding you delicately as though worried he’ll break you in your already fragile state.

“Are you alright, my sweet?” He whispers, brushing some hair from your face. “Did I hurt you at all? The bite?”

You smile. “You should know by now, my wounds will always heal.”

Chortling at his own ignorance, he nods, kissing you sweetly. “... Thank you.”

You tilt your head, a bit confused. “You mean, for the sex, or...?”

His tenderness surfaces once more, and he rolls back on top of you, slender fingers tracing your features in feigned interest.

“You’ve poured so much of yourself into me; given me so much of you in but a single night... My darling, I feel as though I’m going to overflow.” Tears begin welling in his eyes, the first time since that last battle, but now they’re of the purest joy. “Darling... [Name], my sweet, my eternal rose... I will love you and stay at your side, until eternity itself withers.”

Leaning down, he gives you a kiss, resting his forehead on yours. An indescribable emotion crosses his eyes, lighting them like the very stars.

“Ah... Such bliss...” He whispers. “I thought the abyss inside me unquenchable, insatiable... But now... Now, I am satisfied...”

Sitting up, he brings you with him, holding you so near and dear as the sky turns pink - to which he responds by telepathically drawing the drapes, casting you into the sweet veil of darkness.

“I love you so much...” He rests his face in the crook of your neck.

You smile, your own tears falling into his hair. “I love you too.”

Pulling back a bit, he cups your face, pulling you back into a kiss, eventually laying you down once more...

#monster x human #monster x y/n #monster x you #vampire #vampire x you #vampire x reader #vampire lord #monster fic #my writing

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