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sinner-sunflower · 4 months

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P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 22/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

I totally forgot to post this yesterday alksjdlksajkl

It's literally in my drafts but the day was too busy I honestly forgot. So here's a treat!

Also, I know there's a lot of mystery and questions of what's going on but I never planned to fully stay on the POVs of those in Heaven. I just wanted to give you guys a glimpse but I didn't want to tell it all.

You are all as clueless as Luci. Just as I intended hehe

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Lucifer feels cursed. He can sense it. Even without Roo, he's certain that all this misfortune is deliberate. Given everything that has happened in the past few months, he didn't think it could get any worse.

He should've known not to jinx it.

Everyone jumped up, alarmed by the cannibal demon's frantic cries for help.

Outside, they were met with a chaotic battle as sinners and Hellborns fought against the supposedly dead angels. Both side have bodies that lay lifeless on the ground amidst the pandemonium.

Lucifer: What the fuck is going on?!

Cannibal Demon: We were piling the bodies up in the Embassy for burning, as you instructed, Your Majesty. But then—a body suddenly sprang back to life and attacked one of our workers! The next moment, we were all being attacked by the other bodies! They don't seem conscious, sire. They were snarling like rabid animals.

At that moment, an angel turned in their direction and charged straight at Lucifer. He extended his hand, and the angel burst into flames, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain until it died.

Charlie, the hotel residents, and the other Overlords sprang into action, fighting to kill as many angels as they could.

Lucifer saw what the cannibal demon was talking about. The angels didn't seem truly alive. Instead, they screamed and attacked blindly, targeting anything in their path. Their forms were as mangled as the one that had fallen before him.

Then an angel was tossed at his feet. It twitched but the body was too destroyed to attack again. It looked up at him with blank eyes, black liquid streaming down its face like tears. The angel reached a hand towards him and tried to speak.

Heaven Angel: K-k-ki- me. P-ease

Lucifer was too petrified with shock to even register what the angel was trying to say. Was it begging him to kill it?

The angel gasped and attempted to crawl closer until an axe buried itself in its head, instantly killing it. Lucifer looked up to see Adam standing there.

He wondered when Adam had arrived.

Adam: Dude! Snap out of it! The fuck are you doin'?? And what the shit is happening?

But Lucifer couldn't answer. He just stared at the first man blankly.

Lucifer: I thought you were at the palace?

Adam: Seriously?! Gah!

Adam swung his axe again, killing an angel that had gotten too close.

Adam: One of these fuckers got in and I'd rather not die in your stupid house!

Another swing, another fallen angel.

Lucifer: They're angels....

He saw Adam's gaze harden but he does not falter one bit.

Adam: Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are you gonna do something?!

Lucifer snapped out of his daze, the reality of the situation sinking in. He looked around, seeing the chaos unfold as his allies fought for their lives. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his strength and stepped forward.

Lucifer: Let's end this madness.

He extended his hand, conjuring flames to incinerate the embassy, illuminating Pride like a giant flaming beacon.

Lucifer: Toss them all into the fire!

Lucifer's voice boomed across the city, echoing with authority. Soon enough, angels were screaming as they were engulfed in flames.

He took to the sky, setting fire to every zom-angel he could see. Reminding himself that they were no longer their normal selves, he saw this as an act of mercy.

Lucifer flew higher, his eyes scanning the chaos below. He could see Charlie, the hotel residents, and the Overlords fighting fiercely, holding their ground against the onslaught. Each flame he conjured was a prayer for the end of this madness.

As he incinerated bodies left and right, a troubling thought gnawed at him: Was this still Roo's doing? The state of these angels bore a striking resemblance to the infected creatures he had encountered in Sloth.

Roo: Not me, fallen. Looks like someone upstairs messed with something they shouldn't have. How thrilling~

The voice startled Lucifer.

Lucifer: What are you talking about?!

Roo: Hell's not the only one harboring a dark entity.

He cursed her silently but the Root of All Evil just laughed.

Roo: Corruption is such a wonderful thing.

The battle continued, and it didn't take long for them to rid the area of the reanimated corpses. However, the toll was immense. Everyone was on the verge of collapsing. The relentless series of events in the past hour had drained their remaining strength. If Heaven were to attack now, they would be fighting for their very lives.

Lucifer landed, breathing heavily, his mind racing. The angels’ corrupted state pointed to something far more sinister than he initially thought. If Roo was telling the truth, then Heaven itself was compromised.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Char-char, you guys okay?

Charlie: We're all fine.

Adam: Speak for yourself, girlie.

Charlie was only slightly surprised by Adam's appearance but didn't question him.

Lucifer: Are we sure that's the last of them?

Charlie: Alastor has his shadows canvassing the city right now.

Lucifer looked around at the carnage, wondering how much more they could handle. Before he could think further, Adam spoke up again.

Adam: I know those angels.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: Most of these are my girls.

There was a hint of sadness in his voice. Despite being a misogynist douche, Lucifer realized Adam genuinely cared for the angels in his army.

Lucifer: Exorcists?

Adam: Yeah... shit, what the fuck is going on up there? Why did they turn into these things?

Lucifer had no answer, so he remained silent.

They see something twinkle in the sky, followed by a beam of light. Lucifer quickly raised his hand to create a barrier just in time to deflect the blast. Even he struggled against Michael's powerful weapon. Multiple blasts rained down, but they were erratic, not aimed directly at Hell.

Something in the distance was getting closer and closer, dodging left as another blast exploded nearby.

Was Michael aiming for that?

They couldn't tell what it was until it drew nearer. It was an angel, struggling against another as they plummeted. Soon, more angels came into view. A particularly strong blast from Michael shattered Lucifer's barrier, and they could only watch as more angels fell into Hell.

The war had arrived.

And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Roo: Play time~

Lucifer should've known not to jinx it.

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enderwoah · 2 years

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expanding upon my watcher grian pix and zedaph vs listener jimmy oli and martyn post, id like to say that pix is actually the most obvious out of all of them and here's why.

zedaph is rather experienced with it. he's probably been one for hte longest and he makes it a point to not hide it, which is basically the best way of hiding it. nobody is going to ask how he's everywhere at once, how he crosses over servers without actually connecting to them, or how he can simply Know things that he shouldnt Know because it's zedaph. zedaph is always like that.

grian isn't the most experienced, but he at least knows to duck into a room if hes going to start spying on people with all the eyes lined across his wings. and he has the life series, which is basically a watcher dream, so thats his creative outlet in which he can pull on strings as much as his sadistic (/nsrs) little heart wants to and its all perfectly normal.

pixlriffs? pixlriffs has no idea what the hell is going on.

on any given day someone could walk in on him staring down an ancient ruin, trying to See what it looked like at its prime and being met with giant purple eyes surrounding the structure, unblinking and unmoving until they all shift their gaze to the poor intruder and he turns around, shrieks, and the eyes are gone. he doesn't bother trying to hide the watcher's insignia plastered on the top of his bucket hat because it'll appear on whatever headwear he dons and he needs to wear a hat. pixlriffs runs a series recapping the events of a server that he is not even on. subtlety is absolutely foreign to him. he falls into sickness and workaholic mode and people start seeing his projections of the ancient capital in its former glory, then he sneezes and they see it as it was torn asunder and engulfed in flame, then he clears his throat and the giant purple eyes dotted above his empire turn to you and stare you down until you fly away.

the funniest thing is that people see this and simply elect to ignore it. like, yeah, its empires, everyone has their little quirks. honestly, they would have been more suspicious if pix really was just that awkward archeologist architect that lives alone in an ancient city inhabited by birds and corpses. they see the eyes in the sky and ask him if he's had water in the past few days. they welcome his help when he approaches them to help with something he never should have known about. the only person that's terrified of the guy is oli, since his listener ass literally starts sounding alarm bells in his mind any time he does something out of the ordinary.

before he knew what was up with pix, oli probably went to go find him in the ancient capital once. he crossed through the doors, found where pix's base was, and an eye immediately appeared in front of him, scanning him up and down. oli probably almost pissed his pants and ran away screaming.

pix resurfaced from the catacombs wondering where the hell his visitor went. it dawned on him a few minutes later that crap, right, maybe people would be scared of a purple eye showing up in front of them and staring them down. he just wanted to see who it was!!!!

#insanity approaching #i love these guys theyre so silly #watchers #watcher!pixlriffs #watcher!grian #watcher!zedaph #pixlriffs #grian #zedaph #oli theorionsound #theorionsound #empires season 2 #empires smp #empires s2 #hermitcraft

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pttucker · 11 months

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"God damn it! Isn't there anyone else? Isn't there any other friends of Kim Dokja still left somewhere?!" No matter how much Han Sooyoung racked her brain, she couldn't come up with anyone that could help. Both the Statuses of the Black Flame Dragon and Uriel were gradually declining now. [Constellation, 'Demon-like Judge of Fire', is glaring at 'Scribe of Heaven'.] [Constellation, 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon', says he still can't use the 'Right Hand of the Void Destruction'…] The fog of darkness had enveloped the 'Isle of Reincarnators', which was about the same as it having finished its preparation to devour this place whole. It was around then when the specks of light akin to a car's headlights shone from the distance. Along with loud screeching, something arrived by their side after breaking past the deflagration. A vehicle rather familiar to the members of < Kim Dokja's Company > appeared from beyond the choking dust. [Hmm. It'll get rather troublesome if you get injured here. You still have three more adverts you need to shoot for me, after all.]

Okay, first off, I love that Sooyoung isn't even calling for people who want to stop the Nameless Mist just because it's, ya know, bad or dangerous or anything like that. Nope. She's calling for people who care for Kim Dokja.

Secondly, Mass Production Maker! And Breaking the Sky Sword Saint! And Yoo Hoseong! And Jang Hayoung! And 'Prisoner of the Golden Headband'!!!!!! Ahhhhhhhh!

I actually completely forgive Prisoner of the Golden Headband for constantly scoffing at Dokja's prior requests for help because his big entrance was so worth waiting for.

Jang Hayoung extended her hand out and the world's heaviest staff found itself in her grip in the next moment. Boundlessly arrogant and aloof eyes glared at the azure sky, and every cloud in the world trembled all at the same time. [Go and rescue Kim Dokja.] Those words were not spoken by Jang Hayoung. [Constellation, 'Prisoner of the Golden Headband', has incarnated into the scenario!]

And he's focused on rescuing Dokja too! Ahhhhhhh!

Sooyoung called out for all of Dokja's friends and they freaking showed up. Look at all these giant names who care so much about this itty bitty baby Constellation.

Which is a little worrying actually because I swear this feels like some kind of big finale...but we still have 30% of the novel left???

I can only imagine that it's all going to come together for the big "Twist" that keeps getting mentioned, as well as Dokja's new Modifier and his Myth-grade story that's germinating. lmao his new name should be Loved and Hated In Equal Measure or something because everyone seems to either immediately adore him and are willing to cut down literal mountains to help him...or they absolutely detest him with every fiber of their being. 😂

Though...even the ones who detest him sometimes come around...

#orv novel chapter 410 #orv spoilers #orv liveblog #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kdj #hsy #mass production maker #prisoner of the golden headband #jhy #also the fact that mpm is so powerful due to his coins reminds me that dokja is freaking LOADED #we haven't seen his total in a while but it does make me wonder just how powerful he'll be money-wise when this is all said and done #not anywhere near mpm obviously but he's honestly been more wealthy than several other constellations since before he was one himself

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imagine-darksiders · 2 years

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War X Reader

Hey! A wild writing commission appeared!

Requested by the lovely @olenstarbreezeze who asked for a War X Reader fic with Chaos War and hurt/comfort.

I uh... I might have gone over the word limit a wee smidge :S

Also, while this is set during the first game, I tried to take more from War's personality in Genesis.

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“Beware the loyalty of a Horseman...”

That had been Ulthane's rumbled warning to you, spoken in the dull hush of his underground hovel.

Between clucking over the wounds you'd sustained from your run-in with the Griever and grumbling about the state of his front door, he'd sent a surreptitious glare at the cloaked figure looming on the other side of his home.

“Havin' a Horseman on your side is like havin' a bloody army at your back,” the maker had continued in a low thrum, meeting your eye once again and giving you a look as stony as the bench you'd been sat on, “Take care how you use it, eh?”

That had been a week ago.

At the time, you'd simply smiled and patiently agreed to be careful. You certainly weren't about to argue with the giant who'd been kind enough to offer you a safe haven from the demon-infested world outside, whilst the Horseman regathered his strength and planned the next leg of your journey.

You had merely found it hard to imagine that the Apocalyptic Nephilim could be loyal to a human he'd only known for a few, short weeks.

Now however, almost seven days after Ulthane told you to tread carefully with the Horseman's loyalty, you're starting to wonder if the old giant had been right to warn you after all...

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“You can change back now, you know...”

Your gentle suggestion cuts through the silence that has cocooned the dilapidated city hall for the last half an hour, and although you'd made an effort to whisper, you still wince at such a jarring shift in volume.

Regardless, you think you've posited an issue that needs to be brought up sooner rather than later.

War, the battle-hardened and stoic Horseman of the Apocalypse, isn't quite himself.

Literally.

He hasn't been 'himself' since he came thundering into that demon encampment over an hour ago, whipped up into a frenzy and enraged like a maddened bull, hellbent on rescuing his unwitting charge.

A Phantom General had thought it would be a good idea to not only kidnap you right out from under War's nose, but to ultimately force you into the role of 'bait' in some harebrained scheme to ambush the Horseman and cleave his head from his shoulders.

Of course, the General and his legion of Phantom Guards had been expecting to fight a Horseman.

They never thought they'd instead come face to fanged face with a flaming, bipedal juggernaut that came charging towards them, its skin charcoal dark and solid like basalt, and an eternal fire enveloping its body as if it has been doused in gelatinous napalm.

With your neck caught in the cruel, crushing grasp of the startled General, you'd watched on in horrified awe as War's most vicious and primal form demolished the unsuspecting demons, tearing them asunder with immense, cragged jaws and sweeping horns that curved out in front of his head and stretched their fiery tips towards the sky.

Power and outrage given a physical form...

He'd become Chaos. Fierce and devastating Chaos.

Even now, tucked somewhat safely inside what had once been a bustling city hall, 'Chaos' is still maintaining control, and he's planted himself squarely in the entrance with his colossal shoulders quivering in agitation and his whip-like tail lashing back and forth behind him.

The flames licking up his back haven't dimmed in the slightest.

He's been in this state for some time, wound tighter than a coiled spring as he growls quietly at the closed doors, either unable, or unwilling to allow War to reclaim control.

“War?” you croak again, raising your brows expectantly, “I really don't think anything's coming through that door for a while... You cleared the whole city block.”

That isn't an exaggeration. The streets had run crimson with the blood of innumerable demons, whose shrieks and death-cries will likely haunt your dreams when you eventually lay down to sleep tonight.

Though the almighty beast's ear twitches towards you, he otherwise doesn't react to your words.

Clicking your tongue, you shake your head and mutter, “Stubborn Horseman...”

Realising that you're getting nowhere, you cast your eyes down to your left ankle, chewing apprehensively on your lip.

You hadn't escaped that encampment entirely unscathed...

You've yet to pull your injured leg from the confines of its boot, admittedly hesitant to acknowledge the extent of the damage within. You don't have to see the Ravager's bite to know that it's bad. The fire burning under your skin is painful enough to clue you in on it.

The only consolation is that the hell-dog that gave you the injury is now dead, crushed savagely under Chaos's earth-shattering fists.

Still, while you've got a moment, you suppose it would be prudent to find some water and clean the wound of dried blood and dirt.

Hissing through gritted teeth, you swing yourself sideways on the rickety, wooden pew you've claimed and haul your leg up alongside you, bending at the waist to reach your shoelaces. Lips pressed into a thin line, you barely manage to hold onto a whimper as you peel the boot and sock loose, letting both drop off the bench to reveal the mess of flesh that has grown sticky and brown with your congealing blood.

“Oh, boy,” you breathe shakily, ghosting your fingertips around the tooth marks, “That's probably gonna sting tomorrow, huh?”

All of a sudden, the sound of a deep, strong inhale draws your gaze up to the red behemoth standing guard by the doors. Chaos has raised his head to give the air a generous sniff, only to abruptly heave his bulk around to face you with an urgency that puts you on edge. Those wild, golden eyes drift down to land upon your damaged leg, and you mentally admonish yourself for your oversight.

In taking off your boot, you've essentially saturated the air with the stench of your blood.

When he'd carried you away from the encampment, Chaos had done nothing but try to lap at the bruises around your neck until you shoved his snout away and told him sternly that his sandpaper tongue was hardly helping matters.

Evidently offended, he'd been immensely huffy about it. You can only imagine what the smell of your blood is doing to the primitive hindbrain that takes over whenever Chaos is brought forth.

With a resonant, guttural bark, he takes two strides on his digitigrade legs until he descends upon you, dropping heavily to his forelegs with a 'whump' that causes the linoleum floor to squeak under his impressive weight.

There's an instinctive part of you that fears the giant maw pushing rudely into your space, and you shrink against the bench at your back, angling your gaze away from his fangs.

A gush of hot, damp breath washes over you when he parts his jaws and grumbles unhappily at your ankle, and before you can stop him, that broad, coarse tongue is lolling out of his mouth to thwack dully on top of your calf, giving your leg a firm lick.

“OW!” you squawk at once, jolting at the sting of pressure on your tender wound, “War! Knock it off! That's gross!”

The beast just grunts in response, but he does slow down as he rolls his tongue to your ankle again and steals a second lap.

Pulling a face, you plant your palms on the rock hard tip of his snout and lean your whole weight against him, fruitlessly attempting to push him away. “For goodness sake!” you gripe, “I can clean it myself. With actual water.”

When all you receive is a churlish huff in response, you let out a groan and take the rather hopeless notion that you could escape his persistent tongue by simply hopping off the pew, ducking under his horns and hobbling off to find the closest bathroom you can lock yourself in.

Of course, as soon as you try to stand, Chaos lets out a sudden growl and firmly - but recognisably gently - bunts his snout into your chest, pinning you against the back of the bench with his lips peeled apart in a clear warning.

Your hands fly up at once, held placatingly in the air.

It's easy to forget sometimes that while this may be War, it's a side of him you hardly know in the slightest. He seems more beast than human in this form, and you're not keen on testing the limits of his patience....

“War...” you murmur, eyeing his bared teeth warily, “War, please... You're scaring me.”

His scalding, yellow gaze bores into you for a few more seconds before he blinks and his eyes suddenly grow wide.

In the next instant, his massive head pulls away and he stares down at the spot where you've huddled yourself into a tiny ball on the pew.

And then, all at once, he's dropping his head until his jaw hits the ground, and in an explosion of red light and thick, black smoke, Chaos is gone, replaced instead by the hunched, hooded figure of War, in all his armoured glory.

Substantially smaller than Chaos but still able to utterly dwarf you in stature, the Horseman is crouched on the ground in front of you, his fists pressed to the linoleum and his white, blonde hair spilling out of his hood as he gives his head a firm shake.

Even on his knees, he's still a figure of immense proportions.

Slowly raising his eyes to you, War adopts a familiar scowl and through clenched teeth, he growls, “What... were you... thinking?”

Taken aback, you scrunch up one side of your face and blurt, “Excuse me?”

Curling his lip, the Nephilim glances around at the room, spotting your backpack leaning up against the side of the bench. “I told you to remain close,” he grumbles, bending down to rummage through the pack and straightening up a moment later, this time with one of your scavenged water bottles clutched in his too-large fist.

Bridling, you protest, “I had to go to the bathroom! I wasn't going to go with you watching.”

“And that demon was able to capture you,” he spits venomously, "Because you were alone."

“Yeah...! Well...” You press your lips together, irked. He's right, of course. The second you tried to leave his side, you were taken... It wasn't your proudest moment, getting caught with your trousers down by a horde of Phantom Guards who happened to round the side of a building at the most inopportune time imaginable.

Tutting noisily, you cross your arms and sigh, “You got me out of there eventually... So, all's well that ends well, I guess.”

War lets out a hot breath, nostrils flared in aggravation.

He closes the top of the bottle in his fist and gives it a sharp twist, letting the cap topple from it and clatter onto the floor nearby. Then, lowering himself onto a knee in front of you, he reaches up to grasp the fabric of his scarlet cowl, and with one, strong tug, he rips off a strip and pours a few glugs of water onto it, soaking the fabric a deep, wine-red.

“War?” you say incredulously, mouth falling agape, “Your cowl!”

The Horseman's sizeable shoulders rise and fall with a shrug as he sets the bottle of water to the ground without bothering to replace the lid, though only because his gauntleted fingers are too large to allow for such dexterity. “It will have to suffice,” he tells you matter-of-factly.

“But... But, you never even take it off.” Falling silent, you watch him bring the damp rag up to your injury. “It's important to you.”

Almost at once, his eyes snap up to lock with yours. “And you aren't?” he growls.

.... You don't think even he expected to say that out loud.

Swallowing thickly, you remain quiet under the Nephilim's scorching, blue glare until he blinks, blowing out a rough exhale and dropping his eyes to your leg.

You can't keep yourself from flinching slightly, even though his touch is feather-light.

For such a large and intimidating Nephilim, War's ability to be gentle with you continues to astonish.

'A millennia of discipline,' you suppose.

His hand stills when you jolt though, and he glances up at you, his expression never once shifting out of the scowl that seems to be a permanent feature on his rugged face.

Knowing that he won't wait forever, you offer him a tiny nod.

Just then, too fast for you to really get a good glimpse, War's expression seems to relax by a fraction, but before you can be sure you aren't just seeing things, he tips his chin down so that his hood shadows half of his face, and as if he's handling the finest china, he slides his prosthetic hand underneath your foot, propping it up in his palm.

You're so surprised by this, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts while he works to meticulously sweep the scrap of his cowl over each of the four puncture wounds decorating your ankle.

Gradually, one of your eyebrows slides up your forehead. “Uh, War?”

Silence.

Your other eyebrow shoots up to join the first. “You know you don't have to do that, right? I can take care of it.”

The Horseman's mouth opens, but only for a brief moment before it snaps closed again and he substitutes words with a shrug of his immense shoulders. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he looks guilty.

But that would be absurd.

.... Wouldn't it? He is glaring at your injury as if it has somehow personally offended him.

Slowly, your brows come together and create a deep furrow in the centre of your forehead. “War,” you say again, carefully, “What happened – You know it... it wasn't your fault.”

That, at last, provokes a response. A rather explosive one, at that.

The Rider's head shoots up so abruptly that his hood goes tumbling back to pool around the base of his neck, revealing the extent of his long, white hair.

“Do NOT try to coddle me!” he snarls, showing off his sharpened canines, “If I had been more vigilant, this would never have happened!” With a jerk of his chin, he indicates your leg. “I swore an oath to keep you safe, and I have already failed you!”

… Taken aback, you blink.

That's... news to you.

“An oath?” you echo, scrunching up your nose, “When did you do that? I don't remember you making any oath?”

“I-...” War stops in his tracks, his eyes darting to the left before they return to meet yours again. He holds your stare for a while, and you're shocked that he's the one who looks away first.

Dropping his focus to your ankle, he seals his lips into a tight, unhappy line. Well... unhappy-er.

“The Horsemen...” he starts, and for the first time since you met, he actually sounds uncertain of himself, “We do not have friends. We were not created to build connections. Only to uphold the balance.”

Your face falls, but War resolutely refuses to meet your solemn gaze.

“For millennia, I have always believed that...” Quite unexpectedly, he raises his head once more and you're stunned to see genuine confusion creasing the lines under his eyes, far more prominent than the ones he gets when you try to engage him in a joke.

“And then I met you,” he utters as if he can't quite believe it himself, “And I -”

He's struggling to get his words out, baring his teeth in frustration.

Patiently, you fold your hands in your lap and wait, making no move to rush him along.

Your patience is eventually rewarded as the Horseman squares his jaw and continues, “I think you are a friend.”

This time, you don't miss a beat. Cocking a lopsided grin at him, you reply, “Well, I should hope so! You're kind of the only person on Earth left to be friends with!”

You think you see the corner of his mouth twitch, but quick as a flash, his far more fitting frown has slipped back into place. He's stopped cleaning your wound, not that there's much blood left to get rid of now anyway. Instead, with your foot still resting in the palm of his prosthetic, his other hand simply sits on top of your calf, a steady and solid warmth that distracts from the sting in your leg.

“You should not have been taken,” War utters, lowering his eyes down to your wound. You see the muscles in his jaw grow suddenly tight before he adds, “I should not have allowed it to happen...”

The Horseman falls silent, and you know why. There's an apology hidden in there somewhere. But War, as you well know, does not apologise.

He's still eyeing your ankle, nostrils flaring, and bright, blue eyes flashing with barely suppressed outrage.

To think... a Horseman of the Apocalypse... blaming himself for letting you get hurt...

He's always been a dour and austere man, but seeing him like this tugs at the residual humanness that still clings to your soul and keeps you from rocketing off the deep end.

It strikes you as very wrong that the proud and stalwart Horseman should have his eyes cast down to the ground...

Without any real thought behind the action, your hand slowly inches towards his face.

War's eyes snap up to you just as your fingertips brush gently against his cheek, and he turns stiff as a board beneath your touch, stilling you in place.

You swallow.

Back and forth, he looks between you and the fingers resting delicately against his cheek bone, a wariness bleeding tension into his shoulders, as if he expects that at any moment, you're going to strike.

You wonder if he's ever felt a kind touch before in his life.

After several moments pass and he neither snaps your hand off nor wrenches himself away from your touch, you ever, ever so slowly slide your fingers around the curve of his cheek until your palm meets his warm skin.

Again you hesitate, tentatively seeking permission. When his expression doesn't shift in the slightest, you gather your courage and press your palm flat against his face, cupping his pale cheek and knowing full-well that you could be treading into uncharted waters.

"You didn't allow anything to happen, War," you tell him kindly, watching the tension in his jaw gradually ebb as he stares back at you, rapt, "You got me out of there. You saved me before those demons could kill me. I don't blame you, and I'm the one who got kidnapped, so don't you start blaming yourself, okay? You've got enough on your plate as it is."

... The quiet stretches on without a response from the Horseman, long enough that you start to feel the stirrings of awkwardness in your chest. And yet, just as you're starting to think you should pull away and apologise for touching him, the mountainous man knelt in front of you gives the slightest shift, a barely noticeable turn of his head that you would never have even seen if you didn't have your hand on his cheek.

By the tiniest degree, War leans his weight into your palm.

You very nearly let out a breath, but at the last second, you swallow it down.

For several moments, the two of you find yourselves caught in a staring match, Human and Nephilim, neither sure of the other's thoughts, but both absolutely certain that this is a turning point in your relationship.

'Ulthane must have been right after all,' you muse, 'Guess War sees more in me than I thought.'

And maybe the Horseman isn't the big, bad, heartless world-ender you thought he'd turn out to be. God, there has to be blood flowing through the veins underneath your finger tips, his face is almost hot to the touch.

"Y.. you're like, really warm," you tell him in a soft laugh.

In response, his eyelashes flicker as he emits a questioning hum from his chest.

Of course, as with all good things, the tender moment has to end.

Blinking, War's eyes burst open wide and he very gradually leans back, as though you've just broken him out of a trance, causing your hand to slide from his face and flop down into your lap.

"Ahem..." Coughing into a fist, he replies, "Well... I was on fire only moments ago..."

"I know you were," you grin, "I got a front row seat... Thanks for the weird tongue bath, by the way."

War's head cocks to one side, his snowy, white brows knitting together in a baffled frown.

By way of an explanation, you purse your lips and lower your gaze pointedly to your blood-free leg.

It takes the Horseman a few more seconds to catch up with you, and once he does, he's quick to find sudden and inexplicable interest in the far wall behind you.

"Ah... That," he falters, mumbling through his teeth as if it pains him to admit, "I am not always... coherent when I turn."

"S'okay," you shrug with ease and wave a hand through the air dismissively, "You were only trying to help.... And~ speaking of help..." You throw the Horseman a weary, if mischievous smirk. "What do you think, Doc? Do I need Ulthane to stitch me up again?"

At the query, War's face pulls into a tight grimace. "Hmph. I confess I do not know. Perhaps it would be best to visit the maker, just to make sure."

"You don't seem too happy about that," you remark.

In an occurrence so rare as to be nonexistent, the Horseman's lips twitch briefly, and before your very eyes, they tip up into a hangdog smile. "Nor should you be," War retorts, pushing himself onto his feet to tower over you once again, "Because once he sees the state of your leg, we're both going to be in trouble."

#darksiders #darksiders 1 #darksiders war #War x Reader #whump #blood #injury #hurt/comfort #chaos war #big monster is soft for the human he likes? oh yeah

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choppedtitties · 3 months

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What would have happened if another entity had brought the Change: A The Magnus Archive Headcanon

!SPOILER WARNING! This post will explore themes of the Magnus Archive Lore, please be aware of spoilers.

So, in canon, i think its pretty much confirmed that The Change could only have been brought by the archivist. This is because the Archivist is the Archive of Fear. However, i believe that another avatar that might have had experience with all other entities might have also brought the Change, with the Host being another entity.

The Eye brought the Change as a circle around the Panopticon where the Eye can see all the others fears and their domains, but what would happen if, for example, the Buried would have brought the Change?, well thats what this post is, I will explore my headcanon of some of the entities as host of the Change.

The Buried: I believe the buried is the easiest to headcanon. I believe the Change World of the Buried is a labyrinth of underground tunnels with chambers for each domain, all of them of course in a constant state of near collapse to give the Buried the most fear. Now, some might think that this would go against the whole Only One Fear thing that Jonah Magnus said, so my proposal is that there WOULD be a exit to the labyrinth, a whole unending sky ruled by The Vast. There of course would be constant earthquakes in this world that periodically keep bringing back the people that were able to escape.

The Lonely: In a Lonely world I think that the geography wouldnt change that much, its of course so much lonely to see a city without people. However, there would also be a mist surrounding the whole world, so thick you cant see in front of you. I believe most people would be walking through the world in a constant escape of their own loneliness with every building being a fear domain; so in this world you're either alone or in constant fear of other entities. The Eye could benefit by having access to every single camera in the whole world. Now there is an obvious problem of that you could just not go into a fear domain, maybe there's a constant rain to make people go into the domain? this one needs a bit of work to make it make sense.

The Hunt: Now this is a personal favorite, i believe the whole world would be a giant forest, with fear domains being clearings in this forest. Now, apart from being tormented in fear domains, people would be hunted for their entire time in this world. I think a mix of paranoia with the constant fear of being watched and the feeling of a stranger lurking. This of course is very subjective as the Hunt is very primitive. I think it would also be fun having a normal neighborhood but full of police constantly wanting to catch you on a crime. This of course needs more work because people would have to either choose to be hunted or be in a fear domain, and killing them if the hunt catches to them would be very boring and would benefit too much to the End.

The Desolation: This would be very easy to say just like literal Hell full of Fire, but i fear that this may lean too much in the fire part of the Desolation. So instead i would argue that the whole world is in a constant Free for All with avatars having to run around the world fighting other entities in a constant stage of pain and loss. Of course, the lightless flame being the worst of them all, constantly terrorizing other domains by burning them to the ground. This one needs a lot of work. I havent tought of how the other fears would have domains.

This is all i have for now. I might make another post about the other entities.

#the magnus archives #tma posting #tma podcast #tma spoilers #headcanon #the change #fear entities #spoilers #my headcanons

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poetryinsilence · 2 years

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Oceans and Engines (part I)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female!Reader

part I | part II | part III | part IV | part V

A/n: It's October so you know what that means! ✨Whumptober✨ Fluff to Angst fic. This is a love letter; signed, sealed, and undelivered with unsaid things to no one in particular. I wanted to make myself cry because life got me in a chokehold. And what better way to do this than write a fic that takes away -1hp with every word written. This is a full-on SOBFEST, so, enjoy :) I wanna apologize beforehand because there are just so, so many metaphors and ocean-themed and that's on me :')

Summary: So what if you've found the right person; so delicate with love that he could run his fingers lightly on your face and you would burst into flame? But what if he’s also the wrong person, one that doesn’t put up a fight and runs away? Loving Robert Floyd felt so easy, yet hurts so much.

Wc: 2,290

His breath felt heavy in his chest, tightening with each inhale he took and exhaled with a shaky sigh. Hands sweaty as he wipes it away with the fabric of his pant legs and swaps between what's clutched in his hand. He got on one knee in front of a crowd of party people and drunkards at The Hard Deck as his trembling voice asks:

“I love you from the moment you walk into this bar, and I will always and forever love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

The gathered crowd gasps at the scene in front of their eyes; you could hear a pin drop at this moment as they await your answer. You were stunned by this sudden proposal proposed by your boyfriend; eyes gazed into yours with affection and adoration. A few strands of his golden hair curl just above his cerulean blue eyes- hiding behind big gold-rimmed glasses. His boyish grin radiates warmth, but his affection cannot penetrate your heart because you know that you are undeserving of taking his last name and starting your own family with him for the rest of your life. You do not deserve his unconditional love because, to you, he’s not the love of your life.

Minutes seem to slow down at the very moment when your eyes travel to the entrance of The Hard Deck, and there he stands tall and upright, with his wire-framed glasses shaped perfectly on his pretty face, just as you remembered it. He gave you a soft smile and a nod. The light behind his ocean eyes flickered with a twinge of sadness, but he knew it was what he must do.

The swarm of people crowds this beautiful moment; he’s the only one that stands out and captures your attention. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd. He was once your dream. A story of the future that you had, but the pages crisped and torn without knowing what the end truly holds—the one true love that entangles with your soul. And the one that also slipped away.

———

You decided you needed a change of pace from the small town you once grew up in, but now it's just a place blended into one giant shade of monotonous grey. Its cultivation in prime time is long gone and people who remain there either moved away to find a better future for themselves; or are just halfway through death’s door.

That’s when you wanted a clean slate; at the age of 24, to cut out the suffocation and the repetition of your old, stuck-up job. Where else would you rather be other than California? The literal opposite of your childhood town. A place where the heart of the city and its people are, well, alive!

You sat on the beach with that sweltering sun beaming down at you; the grainy sand cradles your feet. You wonder when was the last time you ever felt this feeling of hope and excitement spilling out from your core.

As the hues of the sky entwined with the ocean at the horizon in a sunny shade of orange, the waves draped along the shoreline one moment and pulled back the next, leaving a brief imprint of their existence. Eyes drooped closed as you listened to the crescendo waves ripple in tempo until a sudden searing pain smacked dead across your arm and the backsplash of rough sand splattered across your face.

"Oh God, I-I-I'm so sorry. I-It's my fault! The ball slipped out of my grasp and-and are you alright?" A panic and concern in his trembling voice. You look up to see a black silhouette blocked out by the sun; the shape of his outline appears lanky— hunchback with his shoulders rolled forward.

He crouched down to inspect the damage he had done to your arm. Now in full view, you see his features; eyes wide and filled with blue mimicking the vast ocean, his hair slick back with hair gel or sweat— maybe a mixture of both— along with an old school wire-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of his nose and tightly fitted with a saffron colored shirt. His lips are pursed together as worry has taken over his face.

The pain in your arm no longer matters when you catch sight of his gaze. He softly smiles at you, and without missing a beat like the waves pushing against the shore- everything about him pours right into your world. The warmest blue eyes and that innocent, boyish smile— you drink it in. And he does the same. Take in your deep-set eyes, trailing down to the top of your nose and lingering on your bitten red lips. You felt intoxicated simply from just one look; the butterflies in your stomach threatened to escape and flutter out to the world, embarrassingly exposing yourself.

He opens his mouth to speak before getting cut off by distant shouting. “Got your foot stuck in the sand? What’s taking so long?” A handsome man, flexed with washboard abs and flocks of blondes. He yells out. He’s good-looking, you’ll admit it that much, but his lack of mannerisms took a toll on you. If he wiped that cocky-ass grin and pretentious personality off his overconfident face, maybe you might just tolerate him.

“I-I think she’s injured! I’ll take her to Penny’s. You guys go on ahead!” He swoops up the football and launches it in one full motion. What surprised you was your underestimation of his physique when he swung the football back to his teammates across the beach with a rough estimation of 30 feet apart. If you weren’t impressed by him before, you sure are now.

He turns back with his brows knitted together. “Let’s get that iced before it gets any worse for you.” He helps you up on your feet and offers support on your elbow. When his touch grazes your arm, the heat of his fingertips lingers and sends a shock of warmth down your spine. Goosebumps light their way on your arm, and you hope he hadn’t noticed as he guides you across the beach to a homey-looking bar with ‘The Hard Deck’ inscribed on the front. He pushed his way in and worked around before seating you on the bar stool.

“Seems like you know your way around here.” You broke the silence with curiosity, as he rummaged around behind all the beer taps. You glance around, taking in the sight of this shack; rows of cups decorated and hanging low from the ceiling, and a piano sits isolated on the opposite side of the bar while the jukebox plays a slow, sultry tune in the background.

It's unusually quiet for a bar, with barely any patrons or servers in the early afternoon. You listen loosely to "I’m in the mood for love" and think to yourself about the irony of this situation. Sure, you just met this guy approximately 15 minutes ago. But he's also the first person you’ve actually had a proper conversion (kind of) in the state of California, where you’re a million miles away from where you came from, and yet, there’s something unique and different about him but can’t quite put it on a canvas.

He whips back around with a bag of ice ready in his hands and treats it gently on your already purple bruise. He frowns. “I um, I-I just come here quite often. I don’t drink, but um- the guys outside hang around quite a lot, so I usually just join them.”

He pursed his lips together again, wondering if he had said the right thing. The icy coolness seeps across your injury and follows up your fingertips, but this arctic temperature could not calm the flush spreading along your cheeks.

His posture slumps, leaning on one hip and still hunched— making himself smaller than the space he’s occupied, but correct himself once he sees you observing his every move. You can’t help but chuckle.

“It’s probably rude of me that um- that I haven’t introduced myself.” He sheepishly pushed up his glasses, “I’m Robert, Robert Floyd. But you can call me Bob. That's what everyone calls me anyway. But also, that is kind of my name.” Bob mumbles on, reaching out his hand for you to reciprocate the handshake, but was immediately taken back by him.

“Oh, sorry…I didn’t- that was your injured arm.” He casually collides his palm back and forth with the side of his shorts before reaching out. You gladly accept the gesture and, in turn, unveil your name. His lips softly repeat your own back to you; in slow syllables, causing your heart to skip a beat. Or possibly just stop beating all at once.

“I think that should be my line since you’re the one that’s helping me. Well, cause the damage and then patch me up.” you jest but noticed the colour drained from his face. You shook your head and wanted to tell him you were joking. But he interjects,

"I-I-I am really, really sorry about that. It's unusually clumsy of me and-and—" fingers fiddling in anxiousness, his chest rises. With a heavy sigh, he opens up again. "Can I buy you a drink as-as an apology and to make it up to you?"

Bob swallows, awkwardly looking down at his shuffling feet against the hardwood floor, waiting nervously for your answer. You can almost see the thoughts in his head, screaming out: 'Is she going to reject me? Am I being too straightforward?' as you hold in a giggle.

"Yes, I would like that very much" a beat, "and...apology accepted."

Bob's shoulders relaxed, and his face beamed with relief and delight. He hadn't noticed the breath he held in with his mind fully preoccupied with the thought of your rejection and possibly resentment for his own little football mistake. But he felt grateful it gave him an opportunity to have the courage to talk to you.

He noticed; you sat by the shoreline, mesmerised by the twinkle of ocean waves, attentive to the sound of nature clashing and contemplating. He wondered what you were thinking, what you were feeling. He wanted to peek inside and see. The mellow breeze blew past you, strands of hair caught across your face as you tucked them behind your ear with your delicate finger, and a few locks weaved freely, where he thought they were radiating in the sunlight. His soul was screaming at his feet to come up to you and strike up a conversation, yet in his gut, he knew he wouldn't have the bravery to be able to keep you around. But all it took was one brawny pass from Hangman, and an accidental slip-up sends Bob landing at your feet as the fates have it.

Conversations flow effortlessly between you and Bob. How he was growing up, living off his family’s ranch on the outskirts of Texas, where he helped raise cattle and sheeps with his father. He remembers every Saturday, his mother would make him omelettes with an extra side of buttermilk pancakes and explained that's his favourite. His eyes twinkle with childish joy as he runs through his nostalgia, and you laugh along when he exaggerates the motion of hands, so immersed in his stories that made you wish you had witnessed it too. In return, you shared your side of the story.

Little by little at first; then all at once, you spilt them out. You’ve never met someone that listened to your life story as intently as him before. Most people you’ve met quickly brush you off as sensitive or overreacting, but Bob, he listens. He laughs along with you at the parts that made you happy and frowned at the memories you lived through that made your eyes wet. He understands how lonely you felt, living in a repeated cycle, but you’ve always looked on the brighter side of life. A life that’s filled with nothing but love, and he hoped that he could be a part of it someday.

Aviators started to roll into The Hard Deck, and that’s when you both knew it was your cue to leave. Bob insisted on walking you home, but you politely declined and reassured him you lived close by. That it’s perfectly safe to walk home while the sun is still up. Before he leaves, he turns and blinks at you, debating something inside his head but decides to ask anyway.

“C-can I see you again? I hope this isn’t too much, but I want to um- talk to you again. I uh- Oh, I work nearby- I-I’m a naval officer, like one of those aviators, well, a lieutenant. Actually, a weapon system officer, w-which is-“ he sealed his lips together to stop himself from babbling on any further embarrassment. But you find his reaction rather cute.

“I knew you were special,” you whispered inaudibly to yourself.

“What?”

“Nothing…Um, of course! I’d love to meet you again.” You flashed a toothy smile in response.

Bob instantly melts into your grin, and the word ‘love’ echoes inside his head. He never had anyone use the word ‘love’ to him before, not in a genuine way. He heard his teammates use it in the context of things like 'Hangman loves the feeling of the need for speed' or 'Rooster loves to beat the shit out of Hangman when he steps out of line.' All of these were in the context of things. But hearing in your silky voice, it’s something he never learned until now. That the word ‘love’ has such a powerful feeling— this intense warmth he never wants to let go of and one he can’t bear to lose.

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fic #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #fanfic #fanfiction #⭐️.doc

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setthishouseablaze · 9 months

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Spotify Wrapped - Miss Americana & The Scarf

The video opens on this pair, Miss Americana and an anthropomorphized red scarf they are standing inside TS right eye. Being hidden within her eye they are just below the skyline, between the Cornelia St sign and the dice roll. There are two shots of them. In the space of a few seconds the sun (her pupil) rises behind them as they meet, join hands, drop hands off-camera, but then come back together and press against one another back to back, they disappear in a literal blink of an eye just before the final zoom out. The sky is blue, fluffy cartoon clouds go by, seagulls fly through the shot, and orange-red leaves fall from the mask worn by the scarf.

Miss Americana is one of the few characters completely unmasked in the video only glitter obscures her face, I interpret this as her being a facet of TS who is more exposed to the public eye, she wears a tight pink dress with a giant bow covering her chest, very feminine, she's wearing the Miss Americana title spelled out in black friendship bracelet beads like a beauty pageant sash. The black and white beads are a notable contrast to the blue/purple/pink beads of the other friendship bracelets worn by Mountain Taylor. Both of her wrists are covered in bracelets and I think that her earrings are made of tiny versions of those beads too but they're all illegible, the earring looks like lazy daisy petal outline.

Daisies have history in Taylor's lyricism "I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy" and in her online public presence particularly in the run up to the launch of Lover and in the context of her relationship with KK.

The Scarf is a woman clad in a loose red satin robe layered with a giant red pointed scarf, aside from a toothy smile her face is obscured by orange leaves (shades of a Cheshire cat smile.) The leaves that make up the mask are the same colour as the flames of the burning house and the leaves in the snow-globe/crystal ball. Her left hand is always hidden.

The All Too Well scarf is represented another time in the video, wrapped around a cat in the foreground, but, TS says that whenever we see a cat it's just to remind us that she really likes cats so maybe that one is ignored by association?

Miss Americana is most obviously paired with The Heartbreak Prince, so does scarf-lady represent the prince as well or is the prince just absent? If so were they ghosted in favour of 'the castle' or are they just missing a direct representation because every figure in the video is part of her personal mirror-ball? All Too Well og version was on Red and the scarf represents innocence/girl-hood, is that something she could be reclaiming or, uh, re-gifting, through Miss Americana in the Lover era?

Pageants are pretty universally a feminine pursuit, and in the TS universe they're something that can be worn as a mask, and something that might be avoided to frustrate old fashioned expectations. In MAATHP "no cameras catch my pageant smile" as she ripped up her prom dress "running through rose thorns" when she saw the political landscape and ran for her life. In Dorothea the muse is "Skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes."

In MAATHP she addresses a You throughout the song, no pronouns, but "the damsels are depressed"/"we're so sad, we paint the town blue" it's easy to read THP as being female. It sounds like an apologetic plea to a lover a - you know I love you but this is a terrifying time of loaded dice and there's an unfavourable scoreboard so lets not fight with each other lets just run away together and we'll come back to this battle when the time is right. I can't help but wonder if it was originally written as Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Kid.

The image of a rising sun in music always reminds of the song House of the Rising Sun which despite the popular radio version has its origin as a folk song in which the protagonist is either a prisoner or a prostitute or both. The idea of being trapped/caged/locked in to a certain image is a theme throughout Taylors work. Of course there are more obvious connections to Taylors own work, Lovers pre-launch name was Daylight, and the song Happiness references "a glorious sunrise" both of which I've blogged about here before with the general theme of Sunrise being a metaphor for coming out of the closet. Sunrises generally signify beginnings, it's interesting that in this clip the sun rises over this relationship but never sets, just becomes hidden away.

The seagulls in this clip reference a prevalent part of the imagery for 1989 both og and re-recording, they have long been rumoured to be covert symbols of sapphic love in the TS universe. Here are some 'lesbian seagull' references if you're curious. :) [1] [2] [3]

Eye Theory is another really straight-forward link to this clip and as it's a well established piece of gaylore so I'm just going to pop a link to the @9w1ft master-post. [4]

[1] https://www.nytimes.com/1977/11/23/archives/extensive-homosexuality-is-found-among-seagulls-off-coast-of.html

[2] https://medium.com/ostem-ucsd/how-lesbian-seagulls-changed-the-gay-rights-movement-dd88493da8e0

[3] https://genius.com/Engelbert-humperdinck-lesbian-seagull-lyrics

[4] https://9w1ft.tumblr.com/post/707733730978037761/been-seeing-a-lotta-people-on-twitter-asking

#gaylor #lgbetty

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sillovn · 10 months

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Colours of the Lands Between (1/?)

Wanted to get this out of my head. Not a coherent lore theory, just throwing out ideas and rambling about colour and factions in ER.

Gold

Colour of the current world age and the powers that forged it; domain of the Greater Will.

Gold seems to have been introduced to the Lands Between by the Elden Star - which brought the Elden Ring and the Greater Will's influence over the world.

In ER, Gold is commonly found as a 'tint' or 'layer' over preexisting things. For example; the Erdtree has a glowing canopy and a corporeal root. Similarly, the eyes of people in the Lands Between have a Golden glint within - to be Tarnished is to lose that glow.

Therefore, Gold does not create in the Lands Between, but rather brings existing physical creation into the Greater Will's sacred order? Pure or unalloyed gold does exist, but it is a recent development by Miquella - supporting the idea that Gold was previously only found in association with other things.

Additionally, Golden Order incantations (many from the Fundamentalist School) are considered a distinct school of incantation from the Erdtree. To me, this suggests that Gold is related to the fundamental power of Greater Will; as opposed to something that originates from Marika's Erdtree.

Yellow

Colour of the One Great; elementary stew of the universe.

The Frenzied Flame shares motifs with the Greater Will; their colour similarity and shared finger servants. (ie. the counterpart to cosmic order is primordial chaos?)

There's not much else to say here; the Gold-Yellow spectrum is related to fundamental laws of the universe - order and disorder.

Cool Hues; Blues, Purples and Cyans

Colour of the celestial bodies; the moons, stars and agents of gravity.

There is a clear cool hue spectrum of (purples-blues-greens) that spans the heavenly bodies of the night sky. Gravity agents in purples, mainline Glintstone magic leans toward the blue-cyan, Night and the Moons span pale to deep blues.

Spirits and Others

Besides the heavenly bodies, there purple-blue-green spectrum is also found among a few unrelated factions. Ancestral Worshipers, Spirit Summons and St. Trina/Sleep magic. These are all very enigmatic and don't have a clear connection to the stars, so I don't have much to say here.

Reds

Colour of the world, fire and life and possibly unity/convergence?

This probably the most 'out there' section, where I claim a connection between all the red coloured factions in the Lands Between. Also that there is a distinction between factions that are 'red only' and 'red-gold'.

The Formless Mother is a divine reservoir of burning blood and who is said to crave wounds. She is the source of Bloodflame Incants.

There is a theme of birth/new life in the Bloodflame faction; from the name of their deity to the fact that blood is involved. The spontaneously rise of flies from the blood swamp. Mohg's plan to found a new dynasty with Miquella using the power of Formless Mother.

Seeing the Formless Mother as a birth deity pairs well with the next red faction; the Scarlet Rot. The Rot God manifests as a decay that afflicts landscapes and even divine beings. Its motifs are flowers, stagnant liquids and insects.

The Ancient Gelmir/Great Serpent Cult seems to form a bridge between fire-life and glintstone (though the latter may be innovation by Rykard in more modern times?).

There are some parallels between the Formless Mother and Great Serpent. The Formless mother's devotees spread her blood, while the serpent devours its worshipers - uniting them as a single flesh. Both also have themes of fire - literal burning blood vs magma; which symbolically is the world's burning blood. Therefore, 2 entities with fire-blood themes - one that gives it's blood to the many, another unites the many as one? (there is maybe a caveat that the Great Serpent Cult and the Volcanic magic of Mt. Gelmir are not synonymous)

The Fel God/Giant's Flame does not explicitly have a life connection, but it does have a role in being the prophetic burning of the Erdtree; a source of boundless life (more on this later).

'Red-Gold'

The Crucible is the/a previous Erdtree, and is associated with rampant growth and chimeric beings. It's equipment is made of 'red-tinted gold'. Ancient Dragons wield Red lightning and have Gold plating their wings, they are associated with the timeless storm and ever-crumbling city.

Going to argue that 'red-only' is the 'nature's colour' in the Lands Between - the factions that bear it are associated with cycles of birth/life-decay/death and geological forces. Adding in the Giantsflame + Erdtree; cycles of forest fire perhaps? Existence of ancient red-gold factions suggest that the Elden Star arrived deep in the past; and the Greater Will has influence on the Land's Between indigenous inhabitants for many ages.

'Red Death'

Red appears somewhat in death-related factions. The Deathbirds are associated with pale fire, but one of their weapons - Helphen's Steeple features a red gem. More strange is the Rune of Death; which seems to take on several colours - Red-gold in its 'full form' used by Maliketh, or colourless Blackflame as the 'sealed form'.

(There is also the dull yellow of Godwyn and associates, but that is not death-rune, rather the result of demigods slain by it?)

A distinct Elden Ring appears in Farum Azula; shwoing again the long history of Gold in the land's between. Is Marika's innovation of removing death (red) from the ring the reason why her age is solely Gold and not gold-red like that of Placidusax; the previous lord of the Lands Between? (again, this probably deserves its own post.)

'The Blood Star'

This one probably deserves its own post - but tldr; the only extraterrestrial source of red? Again very enigmatic. But note the manifestation of life in the form of thorns.

Summary

Gold-Yellow = fundamental universal forces, order/chaos

Cool Hues, Purple-Blue-Cyan = heavenly bodies

Red = terrestrial world

Deathbird, Red Glintstone, Sleep and Spirits are enigmatic

#elden ring #elden ring lore #mad ramblings #colours?

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seherie · 2 years

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say you won’t let go (i)

rambheem modern au x magadheera style fic (basically my post-exam monstrosity, you’re welcome)

In the linear progression of time, there is a beginning and there is an end. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, there may be an in-between too, one that is worth telling anyway. But, in this story, there isn’t a beginning or an end.

Rather, there is only an in-between.

And within that in-between, there is Ram.

Bheem wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, there wasn’t much logic to it anyway, but the one thing he could tell you is that it began with rain and ended with fire (well, as much as a story with no beginning and no end could allow anyway).

He thinks that he first met Ram from across a courtroom.

It was a hot day, the kind that bleached the life out of people, like color in a black and white photograph, and Bheem felt like he was both on the brink of melting and a step away from bursting into flames.

It was in a moment like that when Ram walked into the room, obsidian robe fanning the ground, hair slicked back and grinned at his rival lawyer with a charming ferocity that suggested a hunter with his prey. That’s what intrigued Bheem, his smile.

Their case was before Bheem’s and he watched with unbridled curiosity as Ram commanded the entirety of the courtroom with an ease that shouldn’t have made sense for someone as young as him but Ram? Ram made it work.

Bheem had been summoned to court for attacking a despicable bastard of a security guard after witnessing him abuse the dogs he was supposed to protect. It had been a low point for everyone involved, including his partner Sahira (a staunch believer of non-violence) who literally had to tear him away from the security guard with a screech that was more animal less human and equally as terrifying as it sounds.

Long story short, the little tiff had landed him in court and here he was, trying to gauge whether the young lawyer called Ram actually cared about what he was saying or not instead of focusing on whether he himself would be spending the next few weeks in jail.

The lawyer had somehow managed to convince the entire court that the lake pollution allegedly caused by the corporate giant he was representing wasn’t actually their fault, but the consequence of farmers shifting to a different cropping plant for the winter months. And, truth be told, with the way he spoke, Bheem probably would have been convinced as well.

Ram was simply one of those lawyers you only ever thought existed on TV shows, the kind who gift-wrapped poison with fancy words and had a mouth set like a declaration of war. But then, he finally met him outside the courtroom, where his words were less poison and more honey.

(It’s strange how people forget that honey mixed with hot water can be deadly, like poison. Like them.)

“That was an impressive show.”

These were his first words to him, they were the truth too. Their eyes meet. A glint of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed in question as he turns to face Bheem. Hip resting against the arched pillar, he meets Ram’s eyes, breathes in all the little details he wouldn’t have noticed from across a courtroom, a faint scar on his cheek, a golden warmth to his skin, a smile on his lips. God, he was beautiful.

“Thank you.”

The words come out as both a question and a statement and Bheem smiles a little at that. It was raining around them, the sky breaking apart while the roof over their heads wept on its behalf. Ram’s left palm, fashioned into a bowl, had reached out to collect the rain, droplets of water escaping from in-between.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself first,” he extended his palm forward, “I’m Bheem.”

The older man looks down at the hand, at the meaning behind the action that neither could comprehend just yet, before telescoping his right hand around it, “Ram.” A pause. A smile. A half-laugh. “It’s nice to meet you, Bheem.”

Their hands join, a warmth within them that parallels winter spent by a cabin fire, and Bheem couldn’t help but revel in this warmth against the rain.

But, it is at this moment, when their hands are still together and time has managed to remain a linear concept that memories begin to flash.

There is a boy, he couldn’t be older than ten, and there is a train, a mechanized monstrosity suspended from a bridge like the pendulum of the clock of death. There is water and there is fire and then, there is him.

Their bodies merge above the bridge and collide beneath it and there is a moment when Bheem is within the fire. He is consumed by it, whole and soul, and all he can think about is him, him, him. He emerges, safe, and there is a hand telescoping his (just as one had been in this linear version of time). Is he real or am I dead?

“My name is Ram,” he grins.

“Akhtar,” he breathes.

my victims: @irisesforyoureyes @adrakchutneyofficial @manwalaage @lil-stark @thewinchestergirl1208 @contemporarykafka @gauri-vishalakshi @aurora2238 @itsfookingloosah @rambheem-is-real @darlingletshurttonight @redirection04 @slurrrrp @miriseven @bromance-minus-the-b @rambheem-is-real @acekive @kajaaaaaaal

#rrr #rrr fanfic #rambheem #seherie🪞#anyways idk where im taking this but hopefully yall get the mood so far #also for all those people who expected an enemies to lover IM SORRY YALL THAT'S GONNA TAKE SOME TIME

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madametrashbin · 3 years

Text

Of Gods and Stars

Brain went brr at work and while thinking about lovely Dainsleif (sir, please come back soon I miss you-) so Khaenri’an Reader. God!Darling is a Khaenri’an.

That’s it. Everything else in this story is pure improvisation from whatever dramatic story I can come up with through the power of memes (that’s really just how my brain functions at this point haha I’msofuckinghopeless).

@nicebonescomrade wanted something like this so I’ve tagged the creacher of skeletons that has some of my bones right now (not that I mind since I don’t make optimal uses for them).

Huge divergence in plot, I guess? Uhh... I apologize, but I’m dogshit at warnings as you might’ve witnessed. Still, hope you like this. Am going on a posting spree because I gotta make up the time span from last post.

Might also be super messy and short because it’s just brainrot I need to clear my head out of.

You grew up a little isolated from the world... your parents, middle-classed as they were, treated you as though you were something else that wasn’t their child.

(That all started when you told your parents of the weird dreams you had, of a bountiful world where only nature and its creatures thrived... civilization was no seen then, and many giant creatures roamed the lands as though they belonged there.

You never understood the faces your parents made then... you were still but a child in heart and mind.)

People, just about everyone in the kingdom, treated you with something you couldn’t pinpoint- something your young childish mind couldn’t comprehend at the time as you grew up pampered and spoiled rotten with the luxuries of the Kingdom at your fingertips.

You were so young then, so you didn’t understand the significance of your existence.

As years went by, you learned to understand things better. You understood the meaning of why people acted the way they did now. Everything you’ve seen, felt and experienced in the moments growing up made more sense.

The voices you heard from the land, sea and sky... the way the animals never ran from little old you... the way everything seems to be in your favor, or how it followed your moods.

(You learnt on your own that you were a God reincarnated... a God so special that created the world you walked on. It was hard to take in though... even if you finally had answers to why you were treated so well and essentially isolated from the world and its people.

But... there were other memories you saw in your dreams, one that had nothing to do with this world and of something entirely unknown to you... you couldn’t figure it out at all, but that place looked a lot better than what you had now.

You were more free over there.)

Your world comes crumbling to pieces, literally as the kingdom you lived in burned... Gods and their followers alike had attacked out of anger for reasons you knew not of... but Gold, a friend who was a constant source of comfort and company when everything felt like too much, had told you to leave the Kingdom and hide before calling upon an endless sea of terrifying monsters to fight back.

The last you had heard of them was after the Twilight Sword had carried you up in his arms tightly, running out of the kingdom as he had strange black and blue marks crawling up the right side of his body amidst the flames and strange cubes as though his very existence depended on it.

(Perhaps it did, because it was you that they wanted... and as a Khaenri’an through and through, he could not allow them to have you. You, the Creator, was reborn a Khaenri’an... so it was obvious that you belonged to them the same way as they were all made for you to use to your heart’s content.)

You cried the day Khaenri’ah fell... tears falling endlessly until you had nothing left within you to share your grief.

The white stars that one dazzled in your gem-like eyes turned black from grief, the anguish you bear in your heart became unquenchable even if the knight that stuck by your side for centuries had tried to console your weeping soul but was met with no avail and could only be there for as long as he could.

The stars had fallen with your tears... and just like them, never returned to where they belonged.

Home is gone, and all you have left are the remnants that linger on the world as stains filled with sins.

#self aware genshin #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #I feel like this was bad #I'm so sorry for the lack of updates btw #Veil of Starlight is kicking my ass with building plots for blank characters #Good grief how do you people do it?#I can't come up with anything but bullshit at this point lmao #I'll be posting two more things later #tomorrow at least #though that depends if my dentist appointment doesn't ruin my thought coherency #I regret everything I write #but at the same time #I don't #anywayshavefunandenjoythis

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liz-allyn · 3 years

Text

shudder, part 5/6 [agent mobius x gn!reader]

After disaster places your life in danger, Mobius makes a consequential choice.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.

Words: 4k

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Language; Graphic Violence; Whump; Angst; Panic Attack; Hurt/Comfort; If the movie Titanic stresses you out too much-this isn't for you, chief; Mobius x reader

2889. Hell was erupting on the planet of Olympus-V in its final hours.

A fierce rainstorm barreled down on the alien world’s rocky cliff face. A dangerous surf crashed on the rocks, the sea threatening to scale the cliffs. The sky glowed crimson, illuminated by a Red Giant that was hours from its own collapse. The red light gave the rainstorm an eerie hue. It looked like it was raining blood.

The landscape was crowned by the fiery wreckage of an alien ship. It was the intended getaway vessel of a dangerous variant that managed to escape your team through a hijacked Time Door. Your team followed him boldly, not realizing it was never a getaway. It was a suicide mission. And you walked right into a kamikaze attack.

The variant was dead. Eight other Minutemen were dead. Your still-sorta-new analyst partner was dead. B-15 was badly wounded and unresponsive. You and C-20 were stumbling through the corridors of the ship, both sporting nasty head wounds, as you dragged-carried B-15 towards refuge.

Catastrophe was a mild description, never mind the looming apocalypse outside.

“Help!” another voice rang out from the distance. It was U-91. “Somebody help me!”

You turned towards the sound of the man’s voice, stopping in your tracks. You looked at C-20.

The ground beneath your feet was subtly moving, quaking the ship with every inch. The rocky soil beneath you was giving way under the weight of the wreckage. You and C-20 knew that soon the ship would be a fireball at the bottom of the cliff. But you couldn’t leave him behind.

“Go,” you ordered. “Get her outta here.”

You turned around and rushed back into the smoke and flames. C-20 watched you anxiously as you disappeared. She carried on her rescue mission, dragging B-15 towards a temporarily opened Time Door that would lead them safely back to TVA HQ. It would stay open, as long as the ship didn’t crumble down the cliff.

You were alone again, covering your mouth with your jacket sleeve, following the painful groans as they grew louder.

“I’m over here!” U-91 hollered, his voice echoing down a corridor that was bent nearly vertically. You spotted his position, flush against the ground, but you would have to scale walls of the hallway at a steep angle to reach him. “I’m stuck on something!” he shouted.

“Hang on!” you replied. You approached the base of the corridor with trepidation. Carefully and quickly, you began to climb up the hallway via the walls. You gripped door frames, pipes, handles - anything that you could use to scale the corridor.

“Where’s A-19,” the Minuteman shouted about his partner. “I can’t find A-19!” He sounded panicked, which was never good.

“Hang on, I’m almost there!”

“Did you find A-19?”

You didn’t immediately reply, seeing from your vantage point what he could not. U-91 was less than 10 feet from you, and was truly “stuck.”

His leg was impaled on a ripped pipe that had torn away from the wall in the crash. He was hanging there helplessly by his limb. You winced at the sight and scanned your eyes over the area. You locked on to another gruesome sight: the body of his partner of many years, A-19, crushed by a beam just feet away..

“I c-can’t move,” U-91 said with a choked-out sob. You’d never seen this hunter anything less than tough-as-nails. But now he was weeping. “I-I… I can’t find A-19.”

“It’s okay,” you said as calmly as you could.His wailing broke your heart. “I’m going to get you.”

The final hurdle was going to be just that. You needed to jump up and reach the top of the doorframe to be able to free U-91. You glanced down the corridor warily.

The ship growled impatiently as it shifted another inch.

You used all your strength to leap up in the air and catch the doorframe. You’re pretty sure you sprained your shoulder, if you hadn’t already in the crash. You struggled to keep a firm grip as you shimmied to reach him.

While supporting his weight, you pulled the pipe downwards and freed him. His weight fell on you, unleashing cries from you both. But you didn’t let go.

U-91 looked at you blearily, body wracked with pain and exhaustion. He froze. His eyes went black. You knew exactly whose body he could finally see.

“No,” he cried out pitifully. “No!”

“We have to go!” you implored him. “The ship is unstable and we’re going to fall.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of his partner’s body.

You held him tightly, and looked down the corridor to where you began. This part was basically a giant slide if you aimed just right. Just like at a water park. Piece of cake.

You said a brief prayer and leaned U-91’s weight across your chest as you both slid down the walls of the corridor. You landed with a harsh thud and U-91 cried out again in agony.

You looked up at the Time Door, still open where you left it - where C-20 and B-15 had already made their escape. It was just you and U-91 alone. If you ran now, you could make it.

“You did this,” you heard U-91 moan beside you. He was delirious; you could only imagine the immense physical and emotional pain he was in. “We should’ve never followed you—”

His sentiments burned like acid, but you shook them off. “Come on!” you hissed, using all of your strength to pull him onto your back. Your shoulder was buckling from the weight, still ravaged from your last injury in the field.

Maybe you were bad luck. Maybe U-91 had a point.

“I need you to walk!” you ordered him.

“You killed us,” U-91 repeated through chattering teeth. “You killed us...”

You tried to throw him on your back and carry him fireman-style towards the exit. Four steps in and you lost your balance. Both of you fell to the ground as the ship started quaking. This time, it didn’t stop.

You felt a strong hand grip your upper arm and yank you to your feet. For a moment you expected to see C-20 back to rescue you. Your heart skipped a beat at who you saw instead.

Mobius pulled you up close until you were nearly nose-to-nose. You gaped at him like a literal deus ex machina come down from the heavens to deliver salvation. He wasn’t supposed to be on this mission. He wasn’t on the mission. How did he get here—?

The Time Door. He went through the Time Door. He came there for you.

“We gotta move!” Mobius shouted as the vibrations jolted you both into action. He reached down and grabbed hold of U-91, and you grabbed the injured man’s other side. It was much quicker to carry the man down the hallway until you were steps away from the time door.

Then the ground shifted, and your world was upside down.

When you came to, the first thing you felt was the cold. You were laying on the ceiling of the ship.

There was a voice echoing— Mobius’ voice. He was crouched down over you shouting something that you couldn’t hear.

You noticed his TVA flank jacket and tie. Paired with the mustache he looked like a detective on a procedural cop show. This stupidly-handsome, hero time cop walked into an apocalypse to save you, now stared down at you with wide, terrified eyes.

That’s when you realized you couldn’t move.

“Stay with me,” he implored, as he lifted your head out of the water.

With your ears clear, you could finally hear the chaos around you. A symphony of groans from twisting metal squealed and cracked through the halls of the ship. You could hear another crushing sound on top of the din. Rushing water.

You lifted your head to see why you were cold. You were laying in rising water with your hips pinned to the ground by a fallen steel door. Mobius was pulling up on the door desperately trying to free you.

Your heart began to pound.

The ship had fallen off the cliff into the ocean below. You were now sinking, the wreckage falling deeper into the sea, with you trapped inside.

You saw water rushing in through the hallways, filling all the corridors. It surrounded you. It was going to bury you.

“Agent Mobius!” you heard from a distance. “Get through the portal!”

You turned your head to see two Minutemen shouting as they dragged the injured U-91 through a flickering Time Door. They were so far away.

“Get help!” Mobius ordered frantically. “I can’t lift it off of her!”

“We can’t keep it open!” one of their voices echoed back. “Sir, you gotta get out bef—”

The door shorted out and vanished. And now, you were both trapped. .

“Mobius…” you exclaimed, barely able to breathe through your terror.

The water was rising quickly. Mobius glanced down at you again, and he reached down deeper to get a grip on your restraints. You both struggled and grunted, but the door only slid a little further without freeing you.

You were allowed a little more space to breathe, and were able to lift your torso a little higher out of the water. The relief was short-lived. The water was flowing rapidly and neither of you were strong enough.

“Damn it!” he roared in frustration.

You glanced around frantically and spotted an opportunity. “Look! There!”

He followed the end of your finger to a pipe nearby. He was on his feet immediately, kicking the piece of metal loose as you continued to try to push the door off of you. Once he broke the pipe free, he brought it over to you and stuck it in the space between your body and the watery ground, driving it down deep beside your leg. He gripped the pole tight and lifted with all of his might.

You pushed up on the door as he shouted, his muscles burning. You were shifting and thrashing like a fish in the frigid water until you were finally able to pull your hips out. You kicked furiously in the tiny crawl space until your legs were freed.

Mobius dropped the weight, and collapsed on his hands and knees. You were reaching for him desperately, your fingers aching to hold him. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing you tightly, as you both kneeled in the ocean water.

A sob escaped your lips as you buried your face in his neck. “You came back for me…” Your body shook as you cried like a child.

He tightened his hold on you and you felt the hair of his mustache graze the delicate skin of your neck.

“Of course,” he replied.

You wanted to hold onto him forever, letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks. It was the greatest act of love that anyone had ever shown you. And it was about to be the last.

Your eyes focused ominously on other imminent danger pounding its way through the doors.

“Moby...” you shuddered as he pulled you up to your feet. The water level was crawling up your thighs, rushing in from everywhere.

He snapped into action, grabbed you by the wrist, and pulled you back down the (inverted) hallway where the Time Door once stood. You took giant strides to push through the current towards a less-submerged part of the corridor.

It became easier to run, but everywhere you looked, your nightmares were coming to life. Your brain began to cease; your mind locked up. You were being paralyzed by terror.

Mobius was shouting something again, but you only caught part of it.

“...outer ring of the ship. If we swim we can make it.”

“What?” you blinked incredulously. He pointed towards a submerged hallway. A water-filled tunnel into the deep darkness. You looked up at him with wide eyes, horrified at his suggestion.

“The ship’s emergency systems would’ve opened the door passages in the event of a crash,” Mobius rushed to explain. “The way should be clear. If we swim now, we can make it out of the ship and up to the surface.”

You were shaking your head, trembling uncontrollably.

“We can do this,” Mobius breathed, pulling you towards the deeper end of the water.

“No-no-no,” you shrank away from his grip. “No, please, no..!”

“We don’t have a choice!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you. He took a breath and calmed himself once more, “We’re running out of time.”

“Please, don’t make me!” You were crying again. “I-I-I can’t, I’ll drown.”

“No, you won’t—”

“You don’t know where you’re going! You don’t know if there’s even a way out!”

“We have to try,” he explained, meeting your pleas with calm declarations. “If we don’t, we’re gonna die in here. The more we wait, the deeper we sink.”

He had stopped pulling you towards the water, but he wouldn’t let you pull away. He held your body close to him, and for a moment you thought he’d drag you under. He was begging you not to give him a reason.

“Please icanticantocant…” You gripped his chest desperately.

His hands went to the sides of your head, a placating touch matched with a stern voice. “Look at me,” he ordered. He was once again that person that you’d met in the time theater: calm, compassionate, but equally authoritative and focused. “Look at me,” he repeated. You did, and that was the last time he’d ever have to give you directions twice.

You reached up and covered his hands with your own as he held your face. His dark orbs were gentle as they drew you in, hypnotizing you into a vague sense of calm.

He was reading you again—reading and dictating the pages of your mind, writing miracles in the margins of your nightmares.

“You can do this,” he declared with resolve. He whispered to you at a frequency you could hear, even over the crashing current. “You’re the best hunter we have. I’ve seen what you can do.” He gazed at you like he could see the sun rise through your eyes. “You can do anything.”

Your heart swelled and ached.

“I swear to you,” he said softly, as if in prayer, “you will make it to the surface.” He touched his forehead to yours as he wiped the tears from your face with his calloused thumbs. “You’re not going to drown.”

He sounded so confident. Like it was already written and he’d read it many times before, and this was all just another page in the chronicles of the Sacred Timeline. You wanted to believe him. He was asking you to believe him.

That was the moment you realized it.

He was the only thing in the universe that mattered to you.

You couldn’t fathom a version of your story without him in it. You believed in him. And even if he was wrong, it was worth dying for.

You wanted to cry out; to tell him all of the things you felt for him - that you loved him, and would die for him, and wanted nothing more than to be back in his bed at the TVA where he could hold you and tell you that the nightmares were over and that you were safe with him.

“Okay?” he said to you, his eyes fixed.

You blinked at him, and gave him a gentle nod. “Okay.”

He took your hand in his and walked you into the icy water. You were soaked already but your body jolted from the shocking cold.

“We need to slow down our heart rates,” Mobius explained. “Preserve the oxygen a little longer, alright? So we’re going to take five deep breaths - together, then we go under, okay? I’ll give you the signal when it’s safe to breathe.”

You nodded, despite your terror. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, trying to burn into your memory every line and curve of his face.

“Just don’t leave me behind, okay?” you pleaded with him meekly. You didn’t even think about what you’d said until it was done. His eyes softened as they rested on you. “Promise you’ll stay with me?” you asked.

He contemplated you, then reached out and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Always,” he promised.

You both turned towards the water, then back to each other. “Okay, five deep breaths,” he instructed. “In and out. Through your nose.” You filled your chest with air and exhaled deeply.

“That’s one,” he counted. “Pull in from the diaphragm.” Mobius rested his hand on your stomach and watched it move with your next inhale and exhale.

“Two.” Another deep breath. He removed his hand from your belly and grasped your hand. There was no way you were going to let it go.

“Three.”

You were gazing into his eyes again, losing yourself in their warm earthy tones.

“Four. One more, in and out.”

You pulled the air in through your nose and out through your mouth, in sync with him.

“Five. Deep breath.”

You filled your lungs as tightly as you could, and dived beneath the surface with him.

It was so much darker than you’d expected. You might as well have been swimming through a starry sky, and in your mind that’s what you wanted to pretend. There were brief flashes - sparks from blown fuses, mostly - that would illuminate your surroundings. You pretended they were flares from stars dying out as you swam through the milky way.

The water was so cold. It was the kind of cold that your skin doesn’t acclimate to. You started counting in your mind as your feet kicked. You weren’t sure how long you'd been holding your breath, but you’d only made it down the first hallway. Mobius pulled you around another corner, continuing on to some blind destination.

How did he know where he was going? You didn’t let your mind dwell on it, as you felt your heart start to pound under the exertion. He knows about space ships, probably an expert. An expert on space ships and jetskis.

Down another corridor. It was getting darker. Were you supposed to be swimming up, or down? You were moving so slow although every muscle in your body struggled to propel you forward. Maybe the cold was slowing you down.

Your chest was burning.

Mobius was still kicking and pulling himself through the water, holding your hand tightly. He was a strong swimmer. Fit for his age, which was… 1,000? Time moved differently in the TVA, so you didn’t know. He was moving slower now, you noticed. Or maybe time was slowing down. Maybe you were drowning already.

God, your chest hurts.

You reached another intersection. He hesitated, looking back and forth briefly. Your mind registered the brief pause, but before you began to panic he pulled you along.

The stars had all gone out. It was so dark.

You kept thrusting your arms deeper through the water, picking up the pace. They were burning from lack of oxygen, but it only made you fight harder.

Mobius pulled you to a stop and you went through another door. It was an elevator shaft of some kind, and the sparks above illuminated the path forward.

Bright lights were filling your gaze, but not from the sparks.

You kept kicking. You could see light. Red light.

Mobius is pulling you forward now. The opening is right there. You’re almost out of the ship and can see the red glow of the surface.

Every thrust of your arms makes them weaker. Like you’re swimming in molasses.

Your lungs are on fire. You’re kicking freely past the confines of the ship. The surface is getting brighter. How deep were you - maybe 40 feet? 30 feet?

You weren’t going to make it.

You were running out of air fast. Your body was beginning to convulse as Mobius held you against him. The world around you was getting brighter and darker.

You weren’t going to make it. You were running out of time.

Mobius stopped his upward push and for the first time you could feel he was losing it too. He let go of your hand, but grabbed the sides of your face. His mouth was on yours, and he gripped the knape of your neck.

That’s when you felt it. The double-squeeze. The signal.

You breathed inwards instinctively before you realized what he was doing. He emptied the last bit of oxygen into your lungs and you felt his grip soften.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to save you from blacking out. You felt his touch disappear. Your hand shot out through the water and gripped him by the arm. You turned your gaze up to the surface and kicked as hard as you could, reaching up for the sky.

No, no, no, no, no.

You were busy trying to convince your mind that this wasn’t really happening. That Mobius was not limp in the current beneath you. You climbed furiously upwards. 15 feet. 10 feet. 5 feet.

Your head ripped through the surface as you gasped for air, choking on the blistering pain. Rain pelted your face as you kicked to stay afloat on the surface. “Mobius!” you cried out as you dragged him up above the water. His head rolled back in a way that gutted you.

You glanced around frantically as a wave crested over you both, filling your mouth with sea water. You spat as you broke through the surface again, kicking even harder to keep him afloat.

You started swimming towards the shore. The tide allowed you to ride the current most of the way. It was dumb luck. You probably would have drowned otherwise.

You held Mobius tight, fighting to keep his head above water, as another surge pushed you forward. A beachhead at the base of the cliff was visible in your sights. One more wave and you both washed up on the crystalline white sand of the shore.

Every muscle in your body throbbed, but you didn’t stop. You squirmed to your feet and dragged your partner with all of your strength further up the beach.

He wasn’t moving. You crouched down beside him, your body shaking with terror. You dropped your ear to his mouth.

He wasn’t breathing.

“No... no, Mobius...”

Your teeth were chattering cold while hot tears flooded down your cheeks. Your mind struggled frantically to process a solution.

You stacked your hands firmly in the center of his chest and sat up on your knees, counting each compression under your breath.

After the count of ten, you tilted his head back, opening his airway, pinched his nose and breathed deeply into his lungs. Tears were falling freely from your eyes onto his face, and you choked back a sob after your second breath did not resuscitate him.

“No,” your voice was thick with anger. “No - you promised me.”

You repeated the process of CPR, compressing his chest and breathing into his mouth to no avail.

“You promised me, you son of a bitch,” you hissed. “You promised you’d stay with me!”

You shoved the heel of your palm into his chest even harder. Your shoulders were filled with a strength that the rest of your body was drained of. This was worse than heartbreak. Your soul was crumbling.

“Please don’t leave,” you were begging. “Please come back... Please, I need you...”

A cough sprang forth from his throat as water shot up from his mouth.

The rush of joy winded you and knocked you to your elbows. Mobius turned his head and expelled the rest of the sea water from his lungs, coughing harshly, his whole body shaking.

You were shaking too, not just from the cold.

“God,” you breathed, overcome with immeasurable relief. Hearing him gasp for air was the closest you’d ever come to heaven.

You laid your head on his chest as silent cries racked your body. You were now a disciple, a humble and devout witness to whatever miracle brought you two together. You squeezed your eyes shut as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat, the gentle sound of each blessed breath. And you worshipped him.

“S-See,” he said with a cough, that sly smirk on his face. “To-toldya w-we’d make it.”

And for that comment, you were going to kill him.

Part 6

A/N: Ok kids, the next chapter is straight up hard R-rated. Like X-rated. Like. The. Whole. Chapter. I’ve never written anything like this. And it’s long! Is that weird? I keep thinking 4k words of smut is like… whoa… Your thoughts in the comments, please. Part of me also just wants to cut the smut in the middle but that would be cruel, right?

Did you like this chapter? Reblog & let me know! If you're not tagged, it's because I couldn't tag you.

@generalhugzzz @isaxbella749 @yodaboo @aloyssia

#mobius x reader #agent mobius x reader #mobius m mobius x reader #mobius #agent mobius #mobius m mobius #mcu fanfiction #loki tv series #loki show #owen wilson #mobius fanfiction #mobius imagine #Lizzy writes.#Lizzy writes!shudder.#mobius x you

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kiirokero · 3 years

Text

Sit and Heal (JJK) (Teaser)

Pairing: Werewolf!Jeongguk x Witch!Reader

Summary: “You have scars, Y/n, both on your heart and on your skin. The one on your arm may be healed, but the one on your heart isn’t. Please. Let me lick your wounds,” Or: The wolf that visits you every afternoon is your shoulder to lean on as you realize it's time to learn to love and trust again, even if it’s hard.

Word Goal: 10k+

Approximate Release Date: Beginning-Mid May

Note: If you wanna be tagged when Sit and Heal comes out, just comment or message me :) Also, I was literally so anxious to post this, I’m so worried people will think it’s trash :)

“Go home. You have others waiting for you, don’t you?” You spoke, and the wolf turned back towards the forest, where the trees grew thicker and the brush became more unforgiving. Again, the wolf looked towards you for a second, before it ran into the thicket. Gone. Its presence seemingly no more than an apparition. You felt like you met a ghost.

“Goodbye...”

Meow

“No, Yume,”

Meow

“No, bub”

Meoooww

“Yume, it’s raining. We can’t go outside,” You scold the cat who is currently eyeing you while you prepare supper for the night. You caught a chicken the other day, so you were happily making some chicken soup. Or you were trying to, if it wasn’t for the black cat who was currently whining his heart out next to you. “You’ll get snatched up by that wolf if you go out there,” You playfully threatened.

Yume grumbled out an annoyed mew, already familiar with the wolf you met and had previously rambled to him about the exact day you met it. It’s been about 3 days since your first run-in with the chestnut-colored wolf, and everything's been relatively normal. You did your daily spell work, foraged until the days turned to night, checked your snares with hope in your heart.

And you never saw the wolf again.

But life goes on, and you’re hungry.

Meow... You sighed, dejected, tired of explaining to the cat that it’s cold, wet, and dark outside. Not the best weather for outside time. Meow. You put the spoon that you were stirring the soup with down, turning to the black furball with your hands on your hips. “Alright, out,” You groaned, shooing the cat away from the kitchen towards the living room. “It’s warm here, your favorite kind of temperature. Just lay down until dinner, okay? I’ll even put more wood on the fire,”

You did as you promised as Yume begrudgingly got on the couch, still boring his green eyes into the back of your head. You grabbed some wood from the stack that laid next to the brick fireplace and threw it in. You flicked your wrist causing sparks came flying out towards the wood. The flames revived energetically, painting the living room in a serene orange glow, illuminating both you and the black cat behind you.

You dusted off your hands, turning around to give Yume a kiss on the forehead. “Maybe tonight we can do a tarot reading for the two of us, yeah?” You bargained, earning a content meow from the cat. You chuckled, scratching behind the familiar’s ear before you went back to the kitchen.

The rain furiously beat against the windows of your small cottage; the wind howling as it whipped against the old wooden boards. The house creaked and groaned under the power of the storm, but you knew your protection charm wouldn’t allow anything to happen to the cottage. Luckily, there was no thunder booming or lighting running bright white cracks in the dark grey sky, it was just the rain and the wind.

You were humming the tune of a folk song you remember your mother singing as you chopped up some carrots and plopped them in the soup, unaware of the cat that was currently sneaking towards a window. Yume jumped up on the windowsill, expertly avoiding the terracotta pot filled with different herbs and flowers. The window was unlatched. An error on your part, but a perfect stroke of luck for Yume.

Yume bumped the window open, causing the shudders to catch in the wind and bang against the wall. You jumped, dropping the spoon into the pot, splashing the soup around the stove and onto you. You hissed at the feeling of hot soup on your cheekbone, but ultimately ignored it, turning off the stove and walking back out into the living room.

An icy chill met your skin as you entered the room, causing your skin to rise with goose bumps. You shivered. The fire was now a low ember and the curtains furiously whipped around in the harsh wind, rain seeping in and dripping onto the floor. You groaned, realizing that you probably forgot to latch it. “Just my luck,” You sighed as you closed and latched the window, turning to go tend to the fire again.

That’s when you stopped mid-step, swirling around to look at the couch, noticing a lack of a Yume. “Yume?” You called out into the quiet house. No answer. Yume was a cat. It wasn’t like he was going to say “Hello” back, but he would come if called. Nothing. “Yume!” You shouted, a bit more panicked. Again, no sign of the furball. Quickly, you rushed through the house, checking every room. You looked under your bed, behind the dresser, under blankets, everywhere. But there was no Yume.

Anxiety seeped into your veins like viscous tar, clogging up your lungs and throat. “Y-Yume...?” You choked out, your mind and heart running a mile a minute. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes. They burned as they ran down your cheeks. You sat down on the couch, covering your face with your hands as you tried to calm your breathing. With each inhale you choked, coughing with trembling lips.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Yume probably went outside. He’s a smart cat, it’ll be okay,” You whispered to yourself in a shaky voice, taking in a few more gulps of air. You willed yourself up on trembling legs, stumbling over to the coat rack. “It’s okay,” You sighed out once more, throwing on your raincoat and boots, stepping outside into the ferocious storm.

Wind licked the wet trails of your tears as rain battered against your body. Trees bent over to the will of the storm, looking ready to snap, as their leaves rustled together producing an eerie symphony that made your hair rise. The sky was void of any light from the stars or the moon, covered in a thick layer of intimidating grey clouds. “Yume!” You called out into the night, desperate to see any sign of the lean cat. Nothing again.

You continued to call for Yume, walking deeper and deeper into the dense forest. It was getting darker the further you walked away from your cottage, making it hard to see the sharp stones and slick moss that covered the muddy forest ground. You reached into your pocket, fishing out the amulet that you always had on hand. It glowed. It didn’t give off light like a flame, but was enough to light your way.

The amulet let out a soft green hue as you continued to call for your cat, voice progressively getting more desperate. “Yume! Please!” You shout with a trembling voice, the biting cold and gripping fear threatening to push you down to your knees.

Meow!

You gasp, whipping around in a circle, trying to spot the source of the noise. You felt dizzy as you continued to turn, straining your eyes to peer through the thick trees and bushes. “Yume!” You yell again, continuing to turn in circles. “Yume! Please... Baby please,” You cry, bending to the will of your aching heart, falling to your knees. The wet, sloppy mud seeped through your pants. The rain splashing dirt on your face. But you couldn’t care less. “Yume...” You sniffled.

Meow

Yume called back, his call sounding just in front of you. You looked up, expecting to see just your little black cat with his green eyes and soft fur, but what was actually in front of you threw you into a living nightmare. You froze, your heart dropping as you hyperventilated, lungs burning from the cold. You couldn’t move. Your eyes locked onto the scene in front of you, like a cruel form of torture.

There, Yume was hanging by his scruff, in the mouth of a giant wolf.

“Yume!” You shrieked, finding your voice again. You reached out for the black cat, shying away when you registered that a wolf was right there. “Nonono, Yume, please...” You lamented, covering your mouth as sobs threatened to bubble their way out of your throat.

But instead of the wolf dropping a dead carcass at your feet, it gently let Yume down, allowing the cat to run over to you and lick at your tears. You sniffled, reaching out a shaky hand to pull Yume towards you. You buried your face in Yume’s fur, letting out the sobs you were desperately holding in.

Yume let you hold him in the chilling rain, licking your face to comfort you. “You’re okay... You’re okay,” You choked out, hiccuping on air. Mew... Yume spoke up, nudging his sopping wet head against your cheek, as if saying, “It’s okay. We’re okay” Even if in your brain you knew everything should be fine now, that you should stop crying and get back home, you couldn’t move. Your tired heart chained you in place like a rock sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

It felt as if all the strength you were fiercely clinging onto while you wandered though the forest had slipped between your fingers like sand. You wanted to lay there in the mud and stay there until morning, but you knew you had to get yourself together. Yume was shivering, you were shivering, and it was dark. Yet you couldn’t move. You sheltered Yume inside your coat as you tried to pick up the scattered pieces of yourself, .

Whine...

You lifted your head from where you buried it in the wet cat's fur, catching the eye of the wolf you’d forgotten all about. It looked at you with drooping ears and a bent head, like a scolded puppy. It whined again, lifting one of its paws like it was going to step forward, but opting not to, hesitating. “You found him,” You whispered out, voice scratchy from the sobs that had wracked through your throat.

The wolf tilted his head in confusion. You would’ve too. Why are you talking to this animal like their Yume? Yume was special in a witchy way. He was your familiar. Like a loyal companion, but sassier. Yume was in tune with your emotions 9 times out of 10. Yume played around with you when you were happy, snuggled you when you were tired, and comforted you through times of panic and sadness. Yume understood you because he was made for you.

A wild wolf wasn’t

Yet, that didn’t deter you as you continued to speak. “Thank you...” You sniffled. You took a closer look at the wolf, looking it up and down. The same golden chestnut fur, now soaked and illuminated in a hue of green from the amulet that currently laid in the mud. Despite the lack of light, its yellow eyes seemed to glow. “Ah, you’re that wolf that was stuck in my snare...” You said, and the wolf took your friendly tone as an invitation to get closer.

Slowly, it approached you, ears and head still down to look less intimidating. You were too emotionally exhausted to be scared again. That, or you subconsciously trusted the wolf more than you thought. “You must be cold,” You commented, staring at the wolf saturated coat. The wolf nudged at your own soaked coat, as if saying, “You too,” and you softly chuckled. It nudged you again, this time on your side, trying to get you to stand up. You didn’t. You couldn’t find the energy too, but the wolf kept nudging.

You gradually stood on trembling legs out of annoyance, tiring of the wolf’s persistence. You held Yume in your arms, still under your coat, as the wolf tugged at your dirty pant-leg. You took a step forward, and the wolf went on ahead until it realized you weren’t beside it. It jogged back, pulling on your pant-leg again. “You’re a weird one,” You mumbled out with a small smile, indulging the wolf by following it.

The wolf led you through the rain and mud. Looking back occasionally to check if you were still there. You didn’t know where it was leading you, but the trees thinned out, meaning you were moving away from the thick parts of the forest that are easy to get lost in. The storm continued to beat down on the three of you, creating a thin veil-like fog that hindered your ability to see.

But the wolf seemed unfazed as it continued to walk without fault, walking until an orange glow pierced through the fog. Your eyes widened when you realized it was your cottage. The wolf had led you back to your cottage. “Wha? How did you...?” You breathed out, looking down at the wolf who was now looking at you.

The wolf was definitely odd. It seemed more aware than the average lupus, like it could hear and understand you. Like it knew what you needed. Strange, no doubt, but you were a witch, you experienced strange things all the time. Hell, the entire forest you lived in was renowned for being supernatural and “dangerous” as in, magical.

Birds often brought you pretty stones and flowers, the squirrels liked to share their food with you, and the plant life seemed to come alive around you. Nothing in your life was “normal”, it was all strange. The wolf was probably like the birds and squirrels. A forest helper of sorts.

So with that rationalization, you left it be.

You walked up to your porch, opening the front door and letting a wet Yume free in the house. You turned around, locking eyes with the wolf once again. It was a few yards away, sitting in your front garden, looking even more humongous next to your tiny daisies and tulips. It was waiting for you to go inside. “It’s cold...” You said, “And your wet...” The wolf tilted its head once again, unmoving. “I have towels... And a warm place to sleep until the morning,”

The wolf stayed seated.

“Come on,” You coaxed, patting your leg as an invitation for the wolf to move closer.

Slowly, the wolf stood up, trotting up to you and cautiously stepping into the house.

“It’s okay, they can’t hurt you anymore,”

“Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean the scars don’t burn,”

Out Now!

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #bts jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts werewolf au #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #bts fluff

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kaz11283 · 3 years

Text

Where Were You

1) Dont You Say That....Not you

31) Your Alive

10) Where Were You When I Needed You

~~~~~

Ok so this was originally an ask but I goofed and just posted the prompts. So after saving them and trying to figure out what to write for the longest I have no idea who requested this because they were anonymous (so this is for you Anon if your out there)

Characters: you x Loki

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, Loki being a slight asshat, hurt reader

Summary: You were Lokis only good thing that had happened in his life but when the hunger to rule over the kingdom gets the best of him and he fails where does that lead you? Your one love gone to never come back.

Announcement: I have been on a much needed LOA and after coming back I have been elbows deep trying to catch up woth everything going on at work. Was the trip worth it? Yes and i had some much needed time off with the fam and the babe. Would i do it again? In a heart beat. Did I miss work? Gods no but I did miss my little tumblr family that i have. So after a good bit of relaxing and my toes in the sand i am back!

I also wanna give a shout out to @high-functioning-lokipath for reading over this MULTIPULE times while I was freaking out about what to do!

Loki Masterlist

💚💚💚💚💚💚

~~~~~

"Loki!" You ran after him as he headed to the bit frost. "Please stop! You dont have to do this! You dont have to be someone that your not!"

"See that right there is the problem everyone seems to be having lately. Maybe this is who I am. Maybe this is who I want to be. After all Lady Y/n you are the one that has always told me that i could be anything I want to be. And I want to be king of Asguard." He said turning on you.

"Loki you are smarter than this! You are just upset about finding out who you truly are." You walked up to him and placed your hand on his cheek. You seen him almost give in before snapping back out of it.

"Ah yes, a frost giant? Someone who couldnt be loved by neither the family who abandoned me or the family that took me in." He spit the words at you.

"Loki, I love you. I have always loved you. You know that better than anyone." You grabbed at his emerald green cloak pulling at it causing him to turn around to face you with a cold look. You could tell that all emotion was gone at that point. You took a step away from him.

"You might love me but I have never truly loved you. You were mearly there to keep my bed warm at night" He said stepping closer to you. With the words came a cold creeping into your chest. Pain literally tore through your heart as they slowly sunk in.

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as you could causing his head to jerk to the side. "Dont you say that, Loki Odinson, dont you dare compair me to one of your whores."

"Get out of my way." He said grabbing you by the shoulders and shoving you to the side. You crumpled to the cold stone floor moving your hand to your stomach as you watched the man that you had loved your entire life walk out the front of the castle.

You wasnt really sure how long you sat there crying when you looked up you could see the sun barly peeking over the horizon and you stumbled to your feet and slowly made your way back to the room you and Loki had shared.

Pushing the door open you heard a sniffle and seen Thor sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. "Thor?" He jump up off the bed and ran to you pulling you into him.

"Lady Y/n! I didn't know what had happened to you. I thought.... I thought that he might have done something before....before." He pulled you away to look at your face.

"Before what Thor?" He turned away from you a tear trailing down his face. "Before what Thor?!" You yelled.

"He fell." Your heart sank, emptyness filled you with the darkest feeling you would have never thought possible. You stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed into it barely feeling the warmth of the fire that was slowly dying out. "I looked for you after. I couldnt find you, I thought that maybe he had done something, but I knew that he would never do anything to hurt you."

"Thor, I have to tell you something that not even Loki knew." You stared directly into the flames watching as they slowly died as the sun rose higher in the sky. "I was waiting till this was all over but now I wont get a chance to tell him." You take a deep breath and look up at him. "I'm pregnant. I am going to have his baby and he isnt even here to do this with me." You placed your head in your hands and started to cry.

"We will figure this out Lady Y/N. We cannot let father know but we can tell mother and she will help us." Thor said pulling you up from the chair and rushing from the room.

~~~~

Two years later

~~~~

You sat with your daughter in the all mothers garden waiting for your husband to arrive.

"Astrid, please dont chase the cat." You called watching her almost grab its tail. The almost two year old stopped to look back at you and giggle before taking off again. She was so much like her father with her black hair and green eyes along with her always trying to cause trouble.

"Lady Y/N, your husband will be arriving soon. He asked that you meet him in the throne room, but let one of the maids take the princess back to your living quarters." One of the guards called walking into the garden.

"She is always there to greet him when he returns. What could possibly keep him from wanting her there?" You asked as your daughter ran up to you giggling.

"Dada." She cooed clinging to your leg.

"He has brought a prisoner and he doesnt think that she should be there. He hopes that you will understand, and that once everything is said and done he will be able to spend some much needed time with his family." Your heart sank at the words prisoner. Leading Astrid to one of the ladies in waiting and kissing her head you promised you would be back soon. As you walked down the halls you could swear that you heard your heart hammering. As you opened the door to the thron room your eyes locked with Thor.

"Darling! I am so glad you are home." You said throwing your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

"I see it didnt take you long to find another prince to bed, my pet." Your blood ran cold as ice when you heard the voice from behind you. As you turned you looked at none other than Loki. Tears sprang to your eyes as you looked at him. He looked weak, thinner than you remembered almost sickly.

"I thought you died." You placed a hand over your mouth in shock.

"Seeing what has become of my once true love I wish I would have." He said looking between you and Thor.

"Loki, hold your tongue." Frigga said from across the room.

"But arent you proud mother? With me out of the way all your dreams came true it looks like." He said smirking looking back at you and Thor. You had grabbed ahold of his arm for support.

"Loki th-" The door had burst open at that point as Astrid came running to you and Thor a maid chasing behind her.

"Dada! Dada!" She threw herself into Thors arms as he picked her up.

"Hello my little love." Thor said kissing her and tickling her with his beard causing her to giggle. Loki stood observing, watching everything take place. He wasnt blind to the black hair that she had or the mischievous gint in her eye that he also had.

"Wow, stricking resemblance brother. She looks just like you." He grined looking between you and Thor.

"Loki, shut up." Thor said handing your daughter to you. "Why dont you take Astrid back to our quarters and I shall be there in a moment." He said kissing the top of your head.

"How sweet brother, a girl who simply rolls from one bed to another, and now a built in family. The girl must be about two now? How absolutly interesting."

You sat Astrid down next to Thor and walked over to the man that use to mean everything to you and stood right in front of him. "You, Loki Odinson, do not need to look, breath, or assume anything. Not towards my daughter."

"Interesting use of words dear my-" he was cut off by a sharp slap across the face.

"Come darling. Lets get you in the bath." You said opening your arms, your daughter running into them.

After you have made sure all the dirt was washed from her and she was nesseled into your bed nice and warm you sat by the fire with tears streaming down your face when Thor finally entered the room looking exhausted.

"Let me help you take your armor off. There is a warm bath for you also. Make sure the dirt is all off before climbing into bed, those are clean sheets." You stood walking over to him and undoing the straps that held his chest plate on.

"What did I do to deserve this kindness from you?" He asked placing his finger under your chin making you look up at him.

"You took me in, loved me after your brother couldnt, you have helped me raise a child that is not your but you let her call you dad. Me and my child both think the world of you Thor and honestly I couldnt imagine it without you in my life." You placed a hand on his cheek and brought him down to kiss him.

He leaned his head agintst yours and sighed. "You must go talk to my brother. He is down in the cells."

"What if I dont want to? What if I want to keep this happy little bubble that we have created?" A tear rolled down your cheek.

"If not for you or me, go talk to him for her." He said motioning over to Astrid who was snorring lightly in the middle of the bed. "I will look over her. For tonight and for always, it doesnt matter what happens tonight I will always love both you and her. And I know you will love me to but not as much as you have loved my brother." You were both crying now, you had decided two years prior that you would give this man what was left of your heart because the love of your life was gone but now? Now you were torn between the safty of being with Thor and the uncertainty of if Loki could ever love you the way he had before.

You kissed Thor on the cheek again making him promise to take a bath before going to bed causing him to laugh. "Yes I promise. Now go before I decide to keep you here with me." He handed you your dark blue cloak and shoved you out of the room.

Silently you made your ways to the dungeons under the castle not being noticed by anyone at this time of night, you pulled the hood up as not to be spotted by any of the other prisoners.

"I was wondering if you was going to make an apperance Y/N." Loki said, he was facing away from you his hands placed behind his back. "You've made quite the impression on my brother. Such a good impression that you two are married. Tell me dear is he as good as I was?" He asked turning to finally face you. You stood there shocked.

"Loki," you looked up at him. "This is not the time nor place for talk like that. I came here to ask what happened to you? I thought you had died."

"So you crawl in bed with my brother?!" He yelled hitting the shield between you and him with his fist.

"So I married your brother to save not only me but our daughter!" His jaw dropped at the admission. "Oh dont act so suprised. I know you know that she is yours. For norms sake she has your hair."

"I never thought you would admit it."

"I cant hide it Loki. Your mother is the one that came up with the plan for me to marry Thor."

"I bet father loved the fact that you were pregnant before the wedding." He said rolling his eyes.

"Odin would have killed us if he knew the secret!" You yelled, fire in your eyes. "Its not like you were around to protect us, to keep us safe. Your daughter has magic and is part Jötunn." He froze staring at you wide eyed. "Where were you Loki! Where were you when I needed you? When we needed you?" You screamed at him tears running down your face.

Neither of you had noticed Thor or Frigga talking to the guard in the shadows, neither of you had realized that the shield keeping Loki in his cell had been dropped until Loki had actually reached for you yanking you to his body. You clung to him like if you let go he would disappear all over again. You buried your face in his neck, his hair tickling your face as you felt his pulse aginst your lips for the first time in a long time. His hand was at the base of your neck as his face was buried in your hair, you felt his tears land on your cheek. He pulled back from you, both hands now on the side of your face as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

"I promise on all nine realms y/n I will never leave you or my daughter again. I promise that i will never leave you alone, I will always be there as I should have been in the begining of it all. You should not have had to go through alone." He leaned forward kissing you. You melted into the kiss, it had been forever since you had felt so connected with anyone like this. His lips were cool aginst yours as you both moved in perfect sync batteling for dominace over the other finally you gave into him. You pulled away slightly out of breath.

"I wasn't alone, I knew that I had a peice of you with me and i knew I wasnt alone at all. I knew you would come back. You always come back." You smiled at him.

"For you my queen, always." He said pulling you into his arms again whispering words of love.

Tag List:

@high-functioning-lokipath

@serpentargo

@drbaureid

@poetic-fiasco

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@rosaline-black

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@natandersonnla

@delightfulheartdream

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

Text

lovers’ dreams

Summary: “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

Characters: India (Aditya), China, Iran/Persia (Roshan, genderfluid). Human names used. Indran, Churan, and Indchu for ships!

Notes: 100% distilled surrealism! This was supposed to be a writing exercise that ran away from me rip. There are many footnotes that explain Many things. Enjoy!

also on AO3! (there are bonus thoughts and explanations there for anyone who’s interested or slightly confused 😅. everything necessary for you to understand the story is here too but I ramble about my thoughts going into the piece on AO3 lol)

———

The willow’s drooping branches hide Yao’s face like a beaded curtain, a bride’s sheer red veil. The spring breeze snakes through the tree, and the sound of wedding suona—sorna rings through the silence. A flutter of phoenix wings brushes past their ear, a whisper on the wind. Roshan walks languidly until they are in front of Yao; it takes a minute—it takes a month. Yao’s face is sharp and his eyes glint, like the jade in his belt. But the kiss is soft when they take his lips in theirs, and it tastes of the rose’s tender petals. The clean sweetness of flowers is warm against Roshan’s face and the fragrance of tea drifts into their nostrils.

Yao pulls away, and Roshan opens their eyes to polished jade thorns sprouting up from the earth around them—crisp green, sharp-tipped; elegant, dangerous. So these are the fruits of our love. It is fitting. They lean to kiss Yao again, and this time, a laugh peals through the air when they part. It is not Roshan’s, and it isn’t Yao’s. But it is clear as spring water and tinkles like a bell, a joyous sound, and it makes Yao smile—a smile that is gentle, calculating; sweet, dangerous. A copper coin hides in the corner of his lips. “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

When Roshan opens their eyes again, Yao is gone. They are standing in nothingness, a shell of a dream. A liminal plane. A wedding song echoes in the empty space, loud and cheerful, although there are no musicians to be seen playing the dohol, the sorna. Then sprung from the air, a mirror of fate, Aayeneh-ye Bakh, with its customary candelabras flanking it, and with their dots of golden light—miniature suns, sparkling stars. Its face shimmers, clear and gleaming: a pond on a full moon night—and in it, Yao stands, his reflection bright, splendid robes shimmering like gold scales and fine silk. Roshan reaches out a hand, and pulls him into a kiss.

“Welcome back, my dear.”

———

It is sunset, and a chill brushes past Yao’s shoulders and winds through his hair. The sky burns red, and fork tongued flames lick at the sun. A world bathed in fire, on the cusp of night. A lotus pond sits before him, and a figure is at its edge—Aditya, adorned in gold, the perfect figure of a prince. He, a dream of glittering palaces and beady emeralds, bright against the glow of the setting sun, sharp against the bloody sky. He holds a lotus blossom out, and Yao takes it. It is pure, tender in his calloused hands. A drop of blood drips from a petal. He lets it float into the water, and Aditya watches with him as the peach pink petals drop before their eyes—the lotus head balloons, then falls with the weight of seeds; it withers, a shell of its fruit. Divine beauty is short lived—seasons turn with the winds of change.

Aditya loops an arm around him, bare skin on bare skin, the warmth of the sun hanging around them like a curtain. Their lips meet. The kiss is long, and lingers even after Yao pulls away; it is slightly bitter, but how could it not be? Aditya’s eyes are like black tea, and Yao tastes acrid lily bulbs. The sky has faded into burnt orange, the aftermath of a blaze. Autumn leaves fall from ginkgo trees, golden yellow, bright with memories of the past. Aditya closes his eyes, and Yao watches him sink into a dream.

The scene shifts before his eyes. The lotus pond morphs into a giant chessboard, and they are on opposite sides. Aditya plays white. Cream colored pawns meet chocolate brown knights, and they watch as kings rise and fall, as steady as the spinning of the world. Chariots race and elephants trumpet; the cavalry fight with long swords and bows, and the peasants use polearms, raised fists. Yao meets Aditya’s eyes, warm but gleaming with an ambition that has never gone away. He nods to his neighbor to the west, to his rival, lover, partner, equal. Aditya smiles.

“So we meet again.”

———

It is afternoon, and the sun is warm on his face. Roshan sits on a bench in the courtyard, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a pomegranate in the other. Aditya nestles into their side, and they give him a feather light cheek kiss, gift him a wisp of air. They hold out the pomegranate, offers it, and Aditya takes a bite. Roshan takes the other half. They watch as the fruit regrows, seeds become jewels, glittering rubies in folds of red fabric. Roshan holds one up to the light with a critical eye. They spread tawny wings, amber eagle eyes alight with the pride of the past present future. A lion and the sun. The wings disappear—a trick of the light, reality fallen away. Then they hold up the cup of coffee.

“For you.” Aditya smiles, and offers a cup of black tea in return.

We have shared many things, and fought over equally many. How will it be in the future? He takes a sip, and falls through the cup.

A cemetery of swords surrounds them, a memory of things gone by. Afternoon sunlight filters through the trees, winds into Roshan’s hair. Idly peaceful. Flowers sprout through the earth; wither; climb up the rusted metal once again. A vine of roses twists around the hilt of a ceremonial spear, supple and full against cool, glinting steel. The leaves flicker, green yellow dead green again. Its blossom is still fresh red, like passion, like their love, pooling around them like a million memories, a still night in the river of time. Aditya looks at Roshan, different yet the same, a reflection of what they once were. Familiar, always, despite the changing tides and shifting dreams.

———

Notes

this part might actually be longer than the fic itself rip 😔 reminder that there’s extra rambling on ao3 lol

Suona/sorna: suona (唢呐) is a traditional wind instrument often played at wedding and funeral processions in northern China! (also used in Southeast China + Taiwan) It’s very loud and has a super brassy sound, but personally I think it sounds alright! The instrument came from Central Asia and is also used at weddings in Iran (where it’s spelled sorna/sarna), where it’s played with a dohol, a large cylindrical drum.

Phoenixes: wedding imagery in China, where a dragon symbolizes the groom and the phoenix the bride. There’s also an analogue to the phoenix in Persian mythology, a simurgh, which is a benevolent creature that is said to purify the land, roosts in the Tree of Knowledge, and apparently has seen the world be destroyed 3 times. Can symbolize healing, divinity, wisdom, and life. (the simurgh symbolism doesn't have much relevance to the fic but I thought it was incredibly interesting to read about lol)

Spring dream: very loosely referencing the Chinese phrase 一场春梦 (yi chang chun meng), which literally translates to an episode of a spring dream. It means the feeling that past predictions or events were actually totally wrong and fruitless, like you expected something (probably really good), but then woke up to reality not being up to your expectations? I can’t translate 😔

Mirror of Fate: In traditional Iranian weddings, a large, elaborate table with flowers and food and different spices is set up (sofreh aghd). A mirror of fate and 2 candelabras are also placed in the center of the table. The mirror represents how fate brought the bride and groom together, and the candelabras represent light and fire. The mirror is there so that when the groom looks into it, the first thing he should see is his betrothed's reflection.

Lotus blossoms: in China and India and many other parts of Asia, lotuses represent purity (they grow from dark mud but the flowers are pure white/pink), the divine, elegance, spiritual promise, the good part of humanity. so, a lotus with a drop of blood in Yao’s hands would be interesting.

Lily bulbs: this is purely self projection but lily bulbs (baihe) are used in Chinese medicine and I despise them. They're not super bitter but they taste starchy, bland, and off. Also lilies and lotuses are pretty similar and I thought that would be interesting :>

Chess: idk if I need a note for this but chess originated as an Indian game called Chaturanga and spread over to China and Iran, among many other places in Asia.

Tea and Coffee: nothing really special about this besides that Iranians Really Like tea. Decided to make India drink coffee instead for contrast; realistically he’d also be drinking tea lol

Eagle eyes: the Iranian/Persian symbol of the Faravahar, from Zoroastrianism has wings that are supposed to be eagle wings (I think? correct me if it’s just unspecified). You’ve probably seen it; it depicts a man with spread wings, half kneeling in a side view. Nowadays it’s also a symbol of Iranian culture, history, and national pride, besides being representative of Zoroastrianism.

Rose: national flower of Iran, and obv I don’t need to explain the other rose connotations. Also I’ve fully adopted the hc that Roshan and all their stuff smells like roses so that’s there too.

Lion and the sun: getting lazy with the explanations, but the short version is that it was a very important Iranian national symbol for many reasons, moreso tied to the state than culture (imo); it was also on the national flag up till the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Although I’m still debating how much Roshan is associated with the state, I also think sun and lion imagery fits them (glory, golden days, pride and courage). It’s super interesting, go search it up if you wanna read more!

This whole fic was somewhat inspired by this one, and the indchu bit was also somewhat inspired by this fanart.

If you made it down here, you have all my gratitude. Feedback is welcome and appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

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