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i-drop-level-one-loot · 9 months

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(I'm sorry it took me so long, I realized I wanted to participate in Kinktober after my ask box filled up with requests, then life got crazy, I moved, started a new job, got a baby (cat)..) CW: Gang bang, GN!Reader, multiple penetration, licking, both male and female partners, abduction, monster fuckers, non-con, forced oral, non human genitalia, urination

It's been two months since (Reader) fell.

They wondered if anyone had noticed they were missing.

Had their boss called the police? Maybe the apartment manager when (Reader) failed to pay their rent?

It didn't matter.

No one would ever find them.

There was a trail leading through a large patch of woods behind (Reader's) hometown that they often enjoyed hiking, but a couple of months ago (Reader) had made the mistake of traveling too far off from the trail. The young adult quickly became lost in the thicket, getting turned around as the sun went down. Then, they fell.

The hole seemed to go on forever, and they would have died, or at least broken something important, if a pile of soft bedding hadn't cushioned their landing.

"My, my, my.. what little snack has fallen into my chamber?"

(Reader) struggled in the mass of leaves and furs, frightened and disoriented from their sudden descent into the earth. But before they could sink deeper into the remains of animals unfortunate enough to have fallen before them, (Reader) was hoisted into the air by a strong hand clenching a fistful of their sweater. A giant creature larger than a suped up truck held (Reader) at eye level.

"Oh? What a cute little snack." The feminine voice echoed through (Reader's) skull. Whatever it was that now had (Reader) captive looked like a human woman that had a bug grow to a horrific size within her; soft pieces of human like flesh stretched out over a hard exoskeleton, tearing in multiple spots.

An exposed, human like skull molding into mandibles was presented as her face, with insect eyes lodged within it's sockets.

Because of the unrealistic, dreamlike scenario (Reader) found themselves in, they responded numbly, "Please don't eat me." It wasn't confidence that kept their voice from quaking, but shock.

Their request seemed to amuse the monstrous woman. She chuckled loudly, both within (Reader's) mind in a beautiful laugh and from her metal-like chest. The sound that reverberated from her body sounded like a knife being drug across a pipe. Her strong hand shifted, moving from (Reader's) sweater, holding them up like a kitten by their scruff, to cradling (Reader) against her bare chest. The chest was flat and without breast tissue, but it still felt effeminate to (Reader). Perhaps it was because of the soft curves above her hips, or the slender shape of her nape, but it made (Reader) feel almost embarrassed, exposed, in the nude woman's embrace.

The parts that resembled human flesh were cold like a corpse, chilled from the hard insides. Her skin was a dulled earthy color, and the longer (Reader) was pressed against it, the more the reality of their situation sank into their mind, transforming the numbness into paralyzing fear. And the monster holding (Reader) gently to her bosom smelled the change in their sweat, further entertaining her.

"Do I frighten you, little one?" Her hypnotizing voice that telepathically sang into (Reader's) head spoke in unison with the actual voice of screeching, ear piercing scraping of sharp plates.

(Reader) went rigid. This wasn't a dream. This was real. Their limbs involuntarily shook. How should the respond? What could they say in this situation?

"No." They lied. They didn't know how they found the strength to speak, but the lie tumbled out before they could clamp their mouth tight.

Another laugh rocked (Reader's) weak heart within their rib cage.

"How sweet.." An abnormally long, mostly armored finger stroked (Reader's) face. "You lie to the Queen.."

(Reader) was laid down upon what they assumed to be the Queen's bed, a more organized stack of furs and leaves. The Queen stood above (Reader), giving them a better view of her body. She had two sets of arms attached to a slender abdomen, with no belly button, her gently rounded stomach ended in a strange split at her pelvis( what (Reader) guessed to be her genitals), and from her hips were very large, inhumanly shaped thighs, without any skin texture, attached to rough and bumpy legs bent backwards and elongated, ending in insect like feet.

"Shall I eat you, little one?"

(Reader) began to tear up, feeling their bladder about to betray them. Their thighs quivered under the pressure of their fear.

"Or.. shall I keep you?" The Queen's upper hands traveled up over her chest, caressing herself, as her lower pair made circles on her lower stomach, inching closer to her exposed slit.

A horrified noise escaped (Reader's) nose as they felt warmth leak out, soiling their pants. The adult began silently sobbing, heaving as they failed at holding in both their crying and their urine. Before them, the Queen seemed to become excited, her antenna twitching as the air filled with (Reader's) scent, one only she could detect. Animalistic and hungry, she fell onto her hands and what appeared to be knees, crawling over (Reader) and tearing off their bottoms with unnatural strength.

(Reader's) body was revealed against their will, and they could no longer hold back their terrified screams. Their hollering didn't phase the woman as she felt their piss stained underwear. Her skeleton like fingers ripped open their wet fabric, purring as she investigated the human body, a reproductive body unlike her own. And it aroused her.

"You are an adult.. I can smell it.." Her mandibles opened, revealing a human like bottom jaw, with sharp, carnivorous teeth, and a long tongue dripping with saliva.

(Reader) couldn't fight back; their struggling didn't budge the Queen as she lowered her mouth onto (Reader's) wet lower half. Her long muscle explored (Reader's) warmth, before finding their ass. The skin on (Reader's) fists scraped and bled as they weakly beat the Queen's head, begging her to stop as her tongue entered their clenched hole.

"Stop!" Their screams fell on deaf ears as the organ seemed to elongate, pressing up even further into (Reader's) colon painfully. It pulsated as she tasted (Reader), breathing in deeply as she did so, relishing in their scent.

Her exposed septum rubbed against (Reader's) most sensitive place, exciting their nerves against their wishes. They fought against it, but their body began to feel pleasure despite (Reader's) emotional anguish. And the Queen could taste it.

The change in (Reader's) smell spurred on the creature, speeding up her movements as she fucked (Reader) with her tongue faster, enjoying the leaking fluids mixing with (Reader's) pee. Their stomach muscles tightened as their climax built.

......................................

(Reader) cried out a pathetic "No!" as they came into the Queen's mouth, writhing under her as their muscles spasmed.

But the Queen wasn't done with them yet..

Two months later, and (Reader) was glued to the Queen's side. Her new favorite mate, she never let (Reader) further than an arm's distance away from her, regardless of what she was doing. (Reader) had to be present for some of the most disturbing activities they had ever seen, including the Queen laying eggs. The Queen often told (Reader) that they were (Reader's) children as well, frightening (Reader) as well as confusing them. It was impossible, (Reader) thought, but they never saw the Queen mating with other monsters.

And there were other monsters.

Males and females, all significantly smaller than the Queen, hitting about (Reader's) height, who would occasionally enter the Queen's chambers to retrieve the eggs or bring food for the Queen and (Reader). Each creature was just as disgusting as their queen, with flesh stretched uncomfortably across ant like bodies. But it wasn't their anatomy that disgusted (Reader) the most: it was the way they stared at them. Monsters unable to blink, they never turned away from (Reader's) face whenever they entered the room. (Reader) didn't know what they were thinking, and wasn't sure if they wanted to know.

But they couldn't take it any more.

The Queen hardly slept, not needing to sleep as often as (Reader) did, only sleeping once since (Reader) fell, but when she did, she was out. Out hard enough where she was practically dead to the world.

And it seemed as though it was time for her to sleep again.

(Reader) stood by the drowsy Queen, naked. Their clothes were destroyed after their arrival, and the creatures had no need for clothing, so nothing was available to replace their hoodie and pants. It was a discomfort that (Reader) never got over.

"I shall see you soon, little one.." The Queen clicked softly as she curled up into the bedding.

'I'd rather die.' (Reader) bitterly thought, scrunching up their nose to prevent themselves from snarling like a caged animal. Although they did their best to keep their hatred off of their face, the Queen chuckled, seemingly taking joy in (Reader's) rage.

'You won't be laughing for long..'

They waited for what they hoped was an hour after the Queen passed out, trying to count the seconds down without the aide of a clock or ability to see the sky. Then, they took their chance.

On all fours, muscles sore from lack of use, body weak from nearly constant abuse, (Reader) crawled as silently as they could out of the den, unaware of the bemused twitch of the Queen's antenna.

They were silent, breathing such shallow breaths that (Reader) felt light headed.

But what they didn't account for was the stench.

(Reader's) tender sex and ass smelled of their's and the Queen's intimacy, even though (Reader) couldn't smell it, the rest of the hive certainly did.

As they snuck through the halls, the hive were alerted immediately of (Reader's) departure by the telepathic Queen, and were on the hunt for (Reader), following their smell.

It only took one to see (Reader's) cute little behind as they pathetically tried to crawl past for every member of the hive to know where (Reader) was, and for every worker not actively caring for younger members to immediately beeline for (Reader's) location.

And it didn't take long, for (Reader) to become hopelessly lost.

Panic began to fill their lungs and suffocate the poor captive.

"It is you!" A raspy voice exclaimed behind (Reader), startling a yelp out of the human. A male stood behind (Reader) with his hands clawing at his chest as if to steady his heart.

Fright rocked (Reader) to the core. "Please don't kill me.." They muttered nervously, already spun around on their knees to beg for their life.

The worker didn't seem to be listening, his antenna rapidly flicking about as he rambled under his breath.

"So sweet.. so cute.. so soft.. our mate.."

From his pelvis an endophallus emerged, pointed at (Reader's) face. The realization of (Reader's) fate caused a surge of adrenaline, propelling them in the opposite direction, running as fast as they could move their legs.

As they ran they heard voices down every corridor they passed, chanting words of love and attraction for their "mate". There seemed to be no escape; each hall (Reader) nearly turned down had voices calling out for them. They continued trying to run where there were no sounds, but eventually found themselves in a giant room of furs and leaves:

(Reader) had stumbled upon the sleeping chambers of the adult workers.

Tears filled their eyes as the room began to fill from multiple entrances with workers excitedly crying out for (Reader).

"It is!-"

"Our mate!-"

"Finally!-"

They wasted no time pulling (Reader) to the ground, ready to prove their love for their Queen's favorite mate.

As (Reader) opened their mouth to scream a long tongue entered and thrust itself deep into their throat. Choking and gagging, they were too busy trying to push the creature kissing them away to cover up their lower half. Like a dog pile, (Reader) was swarmed from all sides.

The workers fought one another just for the chance to touch (Reader). The second a crevice on their body was violated by a sharp inhuman dick, rubbing wherever they could reach, the creature would be thrown off, replacing the cock for a tongue or a hand. Sharp fingers massaged (Reader's) swollen body as every every hole was filled and every fold caressed. The long tongue was exchanged for a monstrous dick, but even that cold metallic-like phallus suffocating (Reader) was replaced by a female's vaginal slit as soon as the male filled (Reader's) stomach with a sticky liquid.

There was so much being touched at once that (Reader) couldn't focus on all the ways they were being assaulted.

If their ass was getting rammed by a cock, and their mouth was occupied by something else, with no holes available the creatures found other ways to fuck (Reader); folding their arms and knees and masturbating into the folds of their soft flesh; using (Reader's) hands like dildos and forcing (Reader) to enter their bodies; licking the sweat off of whatever body part they could reach while touching themselves impatiently.. Even the shallow button of their naval was molested by prodding tongues and fingers.

(Reader) was painted over and over again by fluids. All the while, the monsters would sing praises for (Reader) between their panting, grunts and moans. There seemed to be no end, with dozens of men pumping warm slime into (Reader's) stomach and ass while women rode out their orgasms on (Reader's) body.

Everything went black at one point, passing out due to a combination of a lack of air and exhaustion.

But when (Reader) woke up, they found that their body was still being used as a cum dump for another wave of workers. Their body was past the point of over stimulation, incapable of pleasure. It was pulsating electricity rolling across their abdominal muscles, contracting without (Reader's) permission.

They didn't know how long they were passed around for, but it was impossible to keep track of the number of monsters taking turns using (Reader's) body. Blood was dripping out of every orifice asking with cum and arousal fluid, the sharpness of their big like cocks and the hardness of the women's pelvises tearing (Reader's) body both inside and out.

The last thought (Reader) had before going completely dumb, was wishing that they hadn't left the Queen's side..

(A/N again, I'm so sorry it took so long! And that my drafts wouldn't let me edit your story anymore 😭 I hope you see this, Ant Anon!)

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster fucker #yandere harem #cw noncon #tw noncon #gn reader #cw blo0d #yandere male #yandere female #monster harem

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c0mbatchameleon · 7 months

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@jegulus-microfic March 12, prompt: retire, words: 953

Aka optometrist reg au (part 1? maybe) loosely based off of this post

James is having trouble breathing.

The problem is, he can’t quite remember how to do it right now. His brain, rather impressively, emptied of all of its contents the moment the optometrist opened the door.

Right off the bat, the man had been straight to business; swift stride into the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in hand, a curt “hello” and introduction before he sat down and uncapped a pen with his goddamn teeth. James could only stare dumbly, mouth agape as he stumbled over half-sentient responses to the all routine eye exam questions (“See okay with your current prescription?” A black curl falling over the doctor’s otherwise perfectly framed face, cheekbones carved by the sea, like stones.

“Uh huh.”

“Taking any current medications?” Beautiful silver-blade eyes meeting his expectantly.

“Uh-“ James coughing and clearing his throat, “no. No medications.”)

Now, he's at least regained his ability to form sentences. But as James watches the doctor fiddling with machinery, silver rings glinting in harsh, sterile lighting, he is finding immense difficulty in breathing like a normal human being.

“So,” James begins, leaning to rest his elbow on the table and swelling his chest ever-so-slightly. He does his best to smooth out his voice as he speaks, going for casual with just a sprinkling of something sultry. “Dr. Black, did you say it was?” He may not be able to fully function but God help him if he can’t still flirt.

The doctor's eyes flick up for only a split second, but James counts it as a win. “That’s correct.” He maneuvers what looks like an avant-garde torture contraption towards where James is sitting. “Rest your chin on the platform.”

James does as he’s told, holding back from an absurd urge to respond with a Yes, sir. He's definitely not conjuring a medley of alternate scenarios in his head in which Dr. Black orders him around. “And what might your first name be?”

“It might be of no relevance to the matter at hand, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me James, please.”

Regulus sits on the other side of the torture-machine and begins turning dials. “You should see a red X on the right side, James,” he replies flatly. Still, the sound of his name on the man’s tongue is fucking intoxicating. It's echoing around his skull--James James James JamesJamesJames--he wants to hear it a million more times, every minute of every day until his last.

James usually hates these appointments. Hates the big machines he has to stick his face in, blowing air and shining bright lights in his eyes. Hates that stupid picture of the house that they make him look at a million times over while some old man who looks just about ready to retire asks “One or two?”

But Dr. Black is not some old man.

He’s new—James has been coming here for years and has certainly never been graced with the sight of this angel-fallen-to-earth before. He's young, too; despite the way he carries the poise of a man with years of experience under his belt, cool and confident and collected, there’s no way Dr. Black is old enough to be more than a couple years out of school. All sharp edges and smooth skin.

And god, his skin. It looks impossibly soft, stretched over slender hands and freckled cheeks, strong nose and cut jaw. As James runs his eyes hungrily over the landscapes of peach-pale skin--hills and valleys spanning the doctor's face and neck and fingers and knuckles--he considers how easy it would be to reach out and touch it, find out for himself if it's really as smooth as it looks.

“James,” Dr. Black's voice cuts sharp through his fantasy, one brow raised where he's clearly caught James drooling over him. “Please look into the eyepiece.”

It’s not like James can help it. He’s a bit entranced by the way the doctor maintains such a stoic expression, posture rigid and cold eyes unwavering, especially now. It’s all the beauty of a pointed blade, glittering in the sunlight, begging to draw blood.

But James doesn’t miss the light blush now in full bloom across the man’s cheeks. Silver-clad fingers have begun tapping a sporadic pattern on the table as storm cloud eyes sweep down and back up James' face, quick as a flash of lightning, and isn’t that just curious? Suddenly, James wants to know what it would take to get that stone-cold cast to crack.

He shoots back a sly grin. “Sure thing, nameless doctor.” He looks into the contraption. “Oh would you look at that. A red X.”

The doctor lets out a muted sigh. He fidgets some more with the dials and buttons on the other side of the machine as James watches the X shift in and out of focus. He breaks the silence only when it's stretched for just a moment too long. “My name is Regulus. There’s gonna be a bright flash now.”

Immediately, a blinding white light flashes directly into his eye, burning a goddamn hole into his field of vision. He swears he can see the inside of his pupil for a moment.

But James doesn't care. Once the shock subsides, he finds himself grinning ear-to-ear.

Now we're getting somewhere.

He looks back up from the eyepiece to where the doctor, Regulus, is still intently focused on the computer and equipment. Evading James' gaze. Cheeks still pink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Regulus.”

#I can’t get them out of my head #so here’s a small little thing #didn’t even rlly finish the scene so might continue it some time #laughing at james trying to puff out his chest and strike a pose at this eye exam #james potter #regulus black #jegulus #starchaser #jegulus microfic #james potter x regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus fic #sunseeker #marauders #james x regulus #writing stuff and things #microfic tag

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ohwaitimthewriter · 3 months

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The Memory Keeper

Chapter 4: Mend.

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: None?

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words: 3.6k+

A/N: So... My brain did a thing and I just went with it!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

Broken.

It was a simple word. Just a series of sounds combined together. Nothing more and nothing less than the strange association of letters that came to form a particular meaning.

It had been a long time since you'd experienced the devastating impact of a simple word.

Broken.

There was a distant echo to the word.

The frame was broken.

This frame that had been with you for so many years that today your brain no longer knew how to depict the passage of time. It was nothing more than a shadow. A shadow that seemed to stretch on indefinitely, so far away from you that you wondered whether it had a beginning or an end. All that remained was a sensation of emptiness. An emptiness that deepened at the back of your skull, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness of a lost soul. Or rather, was it an ocean? An abyss so deep and vast that the mere idea of plunging into it made you dizzy. It was like walking on the precipice of a canyon, and the fear of heights gripped your stomach every time you dared a brief glance towards that bottomless void.

Every time you looked back, you felt as if you were sinking deeper into the abyss known as time.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"(Name)!"

You ignored the throaty young voice trying to get your attention. It was the first time in 5 years that you'd found yourself back in the middle of the rubble of an abandoned city, and you'd spotted a building in the distance that looked promising for what you were looking for.

In 5 years, the city had changed drastically. Vegetation had begun to cover the walls of houses and plants of all kinds had invaded any building, standing or not, that crossed your path.

You had to be careful. The asphalt that had once been a heavily trafficked road was cracked all over, creating crevasses that were sometimes invisible because of the flora that had embedded in them.

"(Name) wait! It's dangerous!"

The young ape was doing his best to keep up with you, but you were way ahead of him. So much ahead that he kept losing sight of you as you navigated between the ruins of a recently extinguished human civilization. He congratulated himself on being able to follow your scent, because soon, despite his best efforts, you had disappeared into the meanders of partially collapsed buildings.

You moved deeper into the center of the city and finally came upon the destroyed front of the building you intended to investigate.

You remembered that, at the time, this building was nothing other than a shopping mall and what you were looking for could only be found inside such a structure. This was the third one you'd visited, and if the other two hadn't been a success, you were still holding out hope that this one would be.

You looked around, looking for a clue among the branches and leaves that had covered the walls of the stores that met your expectations. The window fronts were broken and the glass cracked under your weight with every step you took as you ventured further inside the mall.

The hurried footsteps of the ape travelling with you suddenly echoed through the building, and you watched him move from quadruped to biped in a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with curiosity and wariness at this place he had never set foot in before.

There was plenty to admire. The building still stood feverishly on its foundations, and no fewer than 5 floors rose above your heads. The once luminous signs were shaky, sometimes suspended by a single live wire or fallen over, the neon lights forming the letters of the store names broken and detached from their bases. Numerous plants climbed the walls and twisted around stair railings and poles and one tree, a poplar if you remembered the name correctly, had even taken root in the center of the hall.

"What… is that?" The young ape asked, slowly moving closer to you as if to protect himself from the immensity of a place evoking a past that only you had known perfectly.

You were focused on pulling out the stems of a wisteria that had woven itself around a large panel showing the floor plan of the building. As you seemed to be ignoring him, he leaned over the plan, taking advantage of your proximity to gently bump your arm with his slightly bent hand.

The slight pressure he applied to attract your attention had the desired effect, and you ended up meeting his green eyes. A look that kept reminding you of his father.

"A shopping mall." You answered him before focusing again on reading the plan.

He huffed as if in agreement, even though he had no idea what a shopping mall was. He got down on all fours again, deciding it was best to leave you to your business, but he didn't have the heart to venture too far from you either.

It was a world he didn't know very well.

Sure, he'd had all the stories told by Maurice, Rocket and sometimes, when you were willing, by you. But the stories were… stories. It was maybe the first time you'd allowed him to go with you beyond the woods. Maybe because you felt it was time for him to get to know the outside world? Or maybe because he'd grown big enough and strong enough to manage on his own in an unfamiliar environment?

When he watched you, he couldn't help noticing that he wasn't yet as tall as you when he stood on his own two legs. Another year? Less? Before he finally reached your height? He'd learned that his father was a few centimetres taller than you, and from that day on, it had almost become a personal goal for him: to become as big and as imposing as his father, a strong, powerful and reliable ape who could be trusted in all circumstances.

No one had ever forced this goal on him, and no one had ever expected him to be exactly like his father. He'd put this idea into his head all by himself, because he wanted only one thing: to be worthy of his father.

For now, he might still be too young to carry on the legacy, but this was his challenge: to prove that he could embody his father's values with pride.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as you started walking again, beckoning him to follow, and he wasted no time in following in your footsteps, as if he'd become your shadow.

" This way. Come on!"

You took the stairs and, eager to show himself braver than he felt at the moment, Cornelius decided to take the lead, carefully checking that the steps on which you would put your feet would hold your weight. Reaching the second-to-last step, he considered the staircase safe and jumped straight onto the landing, looking back to watch your progress. As you drew closer to the last step, he held out his hand to offer you his assistance, which you might consider useless given the ease with which you were moving, but he offered it anyway out of pure sympathy.

You smiled kindly and accepted, not unexpectedly, slipping your hand into his.

It was a habit. When Cornelius was younger, he'd developed the habit of dragging you with him wherever he went, holding you firmly by the hand. At first, you always had your back bent, having to adapt your posture to his small stature, and even more so when he impatiently ran on all fours to drag you to whatever he absolutely had to show you. Then, as he grew older, you managed to regain an upright posture, and despite the maturity he was gradually gaining right up to the present day, he would always take your hand to guide you to a place he wanted to show you.

He was proud to be able to hold your hand, just as he was proud to have Maurice and Rocket with him to teach him to become an adult ape, a future leader. You who had known his father, as Maurice and Rocket knew him. Being able to hold your hand was like being able to hold his father's hand. A form of continuity that he nurtured.

He asked you for directions in sign language, and after giving them to him, he guided you, keeping the lead.

Cornelius was still young. You could see it in the way he moved. His body was still trying to find a balance between the young ape he was and the adult he was about to become. His shoulders weren't as broad as his father's, and the muscles in his back still lacked strength, but that would soon change. Seeing him take the initiative to guide you through an unfamiliar place made you feel proud of what he was becoming. You knew him well, the unknown had never been his forte, but witnessing him defy the fear that once would have made him hide behind your legs, you could only be proud of him.

The store you were looking for suddenly appeared in front of your eyes and you stopped abruptly, causing a twinge in your shoulder as Cornelius continued forward. You gritted your teeth and the hissing breath you produced stopped Cornelius dead in his tracks.

"There it is!"

You withdrew your hand from his and began to rummage around the room. Cornelius followed your every move, not really knowing what you were so eagerly looking for. He simply felt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

And then, a sigh of joy escaped your mouth and Cornelius came over to crouch right beside you, nuzzling his shoulder against yours for some sort of comfort, he leaned forward slightly to observe what you were holding in your hands.

A strange square object surrounded by a piece of wood, slightly cracked on one corner. While you still held the object in your hands, he traced the outline of the wood to stop at the cracked corner.

"Broken?" he asked.

And you smiled at him, and shrugged.

"We can mend it." You answered, placing the wooden frame in your bag.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You were gone.

Not only had you left the house, Noa had heard you call your horse, and after a few minutes, the pounding of hooves leaving your clearing left him shaken. Raka gave him a quizzical look, but found himself without an answer.

He didn't understand. Had he said or done something wrong? Was it so bad that you decided to leave on horseback at nightfall?

His eyes fell on the blanket. It hid the object of all troubles. He was unsure.

If you'd put that blanket over it, you certainly didn't want him to look.

But on the other hand…

You were gone.

As if to give himself some form of courage, he let out a heavy sigh through his nose, determined to understand what was so precious about this object.

He gently pushed back the blanket. The broken pieces of wood clung to the fabric and fell back onto the transparent plate as they hung slightly in the air, gravity doing its work.

The tinkling drew Raka's attention, and he came closer to peer at Noa tracing the outline of a square shape with his fingers.

Noa picked up an angular piece of wood and noted that the corner was cracked too, then his eyes fell on the transparent plate. He pressed his hand against it, a cool sensation emanating from the object, which also formed a square. Its corners were sharp, and he concluded that the wood was used to protect against cuts.

And then, beneath the transparent plate, there was an image. The half-light didn't bother him and he could make out the silhouette of a… he suddenly grabbed the image from under the plate and pulled it up to his eyes.

An ape.

Noa quickly stepped up to Raka, handing him the image. A strange sensation bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't decide whether it was simply curiosity or excitement at his discovery.

Noa rushed through his signs, alternating the words "why", "how" and "who" as he addressed Raka. The latter was trying to remain calm in the face of Noa's restlessness, and decided to take the picture and turn his back on him, to protect himself from Noa's insistent gaze.

It hadn't taken Noa long to realize that this ape, whoever he was and wherever he was today, was the reason you'd felt such emotion. However, even if he had understood this, new questions piled up in his head and you became more and more mysterious.

"I've never seen such a thing." Raka stated after pondering the question. "Perhaps, the image of a book?" He asked then. "No." Noa suddenly replied, ignoring the wave of pride he'd felt at having found something Raka didn't know about. He resumed in sign language. "Echo was sad. I could see it. In her eyes."

Raka didn't seem convinced and Noa frowned, almost annoyed by the questioning Raka carried in a simple look at him. He pointed at the image, this time using his voice to make himself heard.

"Important." He began. "More than petals."

He paused, studying the image carefully. The ape looked… strong. Even through a simple piece of paper, Noa recognized that this ape was a powerful leader, like his father.

His father. A thought flashed through Noa's mind and he felt as if he'd forgotten why he'd come this far. A feeling of guilt scratched at the back of his mind, accusing him of taking too long to fulfill the promise he'd made to his father, in front of his gravestone. Noa had to close his eyes for a moment to focus again on the here and now.

"The image of a book." Raka persisted. "Books are too old for her to know."

If Raka was right, the emotion you'd expressed no longer made any sense, and Noa wasn't ready to admit that maybe you really didn't make any sense and were just like every echo he'd ever come across.

" You know them. Why not her, too?" Noa signed.

Raka seemed to ponder the issue for a moment before handing the image back to Noa.

"Human complicated. Tough to know what she knows, or doesn't know." Raka said.

Noa sighed, almost defeated. He was right about that, but he couldn't get his mind off the idea that this object was very important to you and knowing it was broken had triggered an emotion in you, and he had, for some reason that was completely obscure to him, an urge to hold on to that emotion. It might be the only way for him to get what he wanted: to get out of here with your horse.

Raka wanted to wait for you to speak. Noa was done waiting. He looked again at the broken object and wood around him. Maybe if he could fix it, you'd listen to him.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

It had taken you all night and most of the morning.

It had to cease. Those two apes had to leave your house and go back to wherever they came from, so you'd never again have to feel the things they'd awakened by their mere presence.

So you headed south. Beyond the river.

You'd gone south because the only way to see them go was for them to get a horse. You had once again strayed from the endless activities of the lists on your wall. But it had to stop. You were convinced of that. Once they were gone, you could go on with your activities. Once they were gone, you'd find again the ease with which you'd let yourself be carried along by time, and you'd no longer be on the verge of falling off the precipice every evening, in front of Caesar's own eyes.

You had returned just as the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky. A rope perfectly tight around the pommel of your saddle and a mare tied to the end of that rope who had stopped struggling to get back to her herd.

She was wild, but the proximity of your horse comforted her, and as you offered her apples to encourage her forward, she eventually gave in enough to follow you obediently without pulling back.

Once you'd reached your clearing, you untied the rope and tied it around your horse's neck, confident that the mare would stick around. She stayed away from you though, not wanting to be touched yet, and you knew it would take some time. However, you could congratulate yourself on the experience you had gained in the art of making a horse docile before you could train it. A few days, at most, and you could teach her to bear a saddle and bridle without biting. A few more days and she'd be ready to carry a human… an ape, on her back.

After removing your horse's saddle, you let him graze and showed the mare around.

Seeing her following your horse with no fuss made you feel as if you'd finally untied a knot too heavy to bear.

Yes, everything was going to be all right.

You sighed with relief and set off to find the two apes you'd left inside your house the day before.

Ignoring the aching and heavy feeling in your eyes, you pushed open your front door to find only an empty room. The previously loaned blankets lay neatly on your table.

The blankets.

Like a light bulb that's just switched on, your eyes darted to the fireplace and then to the blanket left on the floor, pushed to one side, the frame it previously covered vanished.

Your heart leapt into your ribcage to remind you of its existence, and a feeling of sheer panic rushed through your chest.

No, no, no.

They couldn't have done this. They couldn't have taken it away from you.

You rushed outside and before you could set foot on the threshold of your home, a large hand held you firmly in place before you made hard contact with its owner's massive torso.

Your eyes fluttered up to his green ones, and Noa caught his first glimpse of fear in the depths of your irises. He watched you while you no longer seemed to know where you were because of the sudden encounter, and when he saw in your eyes that you were coming back to your senses, he let his hand fall back along his body.

One step back.

You needed to find a space… less shared with his own, and you decided to take another step backwards.

Words tried to form on the tip of your tongue, urging you to ask him what he'd done with your frame, but these words quickly fell into the void of silence as Noa slowly handed you your frame, which he held delicately in his second hand.

You found yourself lacking the words that had rushed to you as your brain tried to put the pieces of the puzzle back together again.

You blinked once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

But no, you weren't dreaming, the broken frame you'd left under your blanket had come back to you in one piece.

Noa felt you were suddenly… overwhelmed. Your usually lifeless gaze seemed to find its way back to life, with a wave of emotion that you were obviously having trouble sorting out in your mind.

So he had seen sadness and fear, and now he saw a tide of relief rising in your eyes until it formed the first drops in the corner of them. But you were like… frozen. You looked at the square object in his hand as if suddenly you had no right to touch it, even though it belonged to you.

And then you looked at him, almost encouraging him to say something before you crumbled.

"Fixed." Noa almost whispered, letting his husky voice trail off as softly as possible, as if he didn't want to break anything inside of you, and he carried on, using his free hand to show himself, almost proud of what he'd just accomplished, silently telling you " me, I fixed it".

You couldn't help but look at him, letting him probe everything that came to your mind, as if to silently thank him for saving you from forgetting. Tears forming beads of rain on the edge of your eyelids, you signed back, revealing your relative knowledge of sign language in the process.

"Thank you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and the overwhelming emotion you offered Noa gave him enough courage to ask you one of the questions running through his mind.

"The image… who is it?"

Noa felt as if an eternity had just passed in silence as you pondered revealing his name. Did you have to tell him his name?

You gently slid your fingers around the frame, which had regained a youthful shape, and Noa almost felt like holding it back to force you to tell him who this ape was, but he didn't need to, your voice rising in a faint note.

"His name was…" You started, swallowing hard in anticipation of the emotion that awaited you around the corner. "His name was Caesar."

And this was surely the first time, after years and years, that you'd uttered his name to introduce him to someone else.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Tags list:

@callsignwidow

@youdontknowe

@katzykat

@koshi-sama

@violet-19999

@queen-luna-007

@sciencewithottsnpotts

@sparks0918

@moonlightnyx

@analuw

#planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #noa x human reader #pota noa #noa x reader #pota #kotpota #planet of the apes x reader

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agentarc · 1 month

Text

i’m just gonna bite the bullet and post a wip of this fox whump fic i’m cooking

important background info: quinlan is undercover as a maintenance tech for senate droids, and he’s concealing his tattoos via makeup

also i’m genuinely always trying to improve my writing so constructive criticism is welcome

content warning for graphic panic attack and self harm by way of exacerbating injury — please let me know if there’s anything i missed

(also also hi if you like this and you’re in a clone trooper discord please invite me im dying to be social in the clone trooper fandom)

His quarters are on this floor — Fox is reasonably sure — but the distance his feet must carry him to get there stretches and warps until it may as well be a parsec away.

A good soldier would weather the storm and march on. A functioning clone wouldn’t struggle to expand his lungs, put one foot in front of the other, and navigate to his own quarters. Fox is not a functioning clone. Fox is hardly even a soldier.

He must abort mission. He will not make it to his office. He lurches for the nearest door. The keypad flashes red at him.

His knees wobble, and he’s supposed to be a soldier, a marshal commander; he’s knees don’t wobble. His knees can’t wobble, not when he needs to stand steady and lead the Guard; not when his brothers are depending on him to keep them safe. Not when his entire existence hinges on his ability to contribute. Not when he needs to face the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and pretend he’s in full functioning order when he’s constantly grasping at the fraying edges of control. Fox doesn’t know if he’ll come back when the threads fly apart.

Time does something funny and Fox is on his knees. The keypad sparks and sizzles. The door remains tightly sealed.

“Commander?”

The world slams to a stop. His eyes fly open — when had he closed them? He’s too vulnerable, it’s not safe to fall apart here, he can’t — and a natborn human is hovering at the hallway junction, 20 steps away.

They take a half-step in his direction, and Fox doesn’t have enough control to mask his full-bodied flinch. He knows the natborn sees it because they instantly freeze, raising both their hands in a display of easy surrender.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to help.” Movements measured and slow, they lower their hands until they’re relaxed at their sides, palms facing out. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Fox can’t. Can’t push words through his teeth, can’t steady his hands, can’t take a full breath — can’t choke back the strangled noise that builds in the back of his throat —

It’s like his armor is see-through, all his cracks on full display, his skin flayed open for the natborn and the vode and all the little gods to feast. It’s not safe. He needs — he needs —

Thorn, he signs desperately, the shape of his brother’s name mangled by tremors. His fingers aren’t listening, but natborns don’t know battlesign anyway, so what’s the point? Fox is well and truly going to die. Fox is going to shake apart right here on the floor of the hallway, his heart is going to smash through his ribs, and the Chancellor will have been right about him all along. Fox is going to die and it won’t even be in the glory of battle, protecting his brothers like he’s meant to, like he wants to. Fox is going to die, and he is going to die an embarrassment; a failure to the Republic and a failure to his brothers.

“Commander,” someone says, and Fox’s attention snaps back to the stranger so fast that it rends a shock of pain through his skull. They have not come closer, but they could have — could have slid up and pricked him with a hypo or put a blaster to his head, and at this range the bolt would zip through his bucket like wet flimsi, and Fox isn’t paying enough attention, this place isn’t safe —

“My name’s Quin. I’m a maintenance tech,” the stranger continues from the junction. They speak firmly, but soft enough that their voice doesn’t echo. “You’re at Guard headquarters, on level 83, maintenance hall 7B, and you’re safe. I think you’re having a panic attack.” Their hands are still visible, but their arms are positioned in a way that suggests they had just used their commlink — to call whom? Maintenance techs don’t usually have direct lines to upper command, who did he call — “You were trying to get into that storage closet, right? I’m going to come closer and open it for you, okay?”

Fox expects them to start approaching, and he flinches reflexively, his body wound tight enough to snap right in half, but the stranger doesn’t move, yet. They watch Fox carefully, though Fox can’t make out the features of their face through his blackening vision.

He shudders through the concentrated wrongness knotted in his chest, eyeing the stranger as would a cornered, dying animal.

It’s perhaps desperation, perhaps the stranger’s disarming words, or perhaps a result of Fox having fully lost his mind that leads him to nod, once.

Only then does the stranger cautiously begin their approach, step after measured step, both their hands loose and empty and visible — a human man, Fox finally notes through the haze of his malfunction — and Fox tracks his movements as he smoothly glides into Fox’s bubble.

Fox cannot move, will not flex a single muscle, because if he does, he knows he will die. He thinks his trachea may be collapsing, gripped by some invisible force —

He jolts against phantom hands (you must stop struggling, Commander) that exist and don’t in equal measure (hold still, now) [end this smoothly, god i can’t be bothered rn]

“Almost got it,” the stranger says from somewhere above him, and Fox inhales sharply, shallowly; the exhale punches out of him with a low keening whine. It could have been seconds or cycles but eventually the man backs off in one casual, languid movement, and the door to the storage closet whooshes open.

Fox all but tumbles inside. He vaguely thinks he should be embarrassed, but as he presses his shoulders into a corner and lets his head hang between his knees, he figures that he deserves a death just as pitiful and undignified as his life was.

The trill of an incoming comm — not his own, because the Chancellor insists he not bring it to their meetings — has him whipping his head back up to attention. The man has stayed behind in the hall, standing off to one side of the open doorway. He raises his wrist comm and a bolt of terror lances through Fox at the reminder that he called someone.

“This is Commander Thorn. What’s going on?”

Fox could cry, and he probably is.

“Commander Fox is in distress. He’s safe, but I think he hurt his hand. We’re in storage closet 83-7B-A113.”

His hand? Fox flexes it and gasps with a detached sort of surprise at the burst of sensation. He hears swearing and shuffling from the other line.

“I’ll be there in 10. Do not touch him, and do not let anyone else approach.”

Fox chokes on a sob. Thorn is coming. It’s going to be okay. Thorn is coming.

“Of course.” The man signs off, but Fox isn’t watching anymore. Thorn is coming.

“Hey, Commander Fox? I’m gonna leave the door open, ‘cause the mechanism’s kind of messed up and I don’t want it locking on you.” A brief rustle of fabric, and, “I’m just gonna keep watch until Thorn gets here, yeah? I’ll head anyone else off.”

When Fox risks a glance at the doorway, the man is no longer within sight. Alarm and relief flood him in equal parts — eyes on all threats at all times, trooper, you’re not out of this yet — but despite his lack of visual on the stranger, he’s finally and blessedly alone in the storage closet.

He paws at his bucket until he remembers he will almost certainly die if he takes it off, and curls his fingers around the edge of his cuirass instead. If it weren’t for the hard plastoid, he thinks he’d sink his fingers into his chest to still his thundering heart himself. Maybe preventing it from racing around would fix him. Maybe it would kill him. Either option is preferable to the way dread creeps into every corner of his mind, every organ and limb, buzzing like holo static in his hands as they scrabble at his armored chest.

A renewed shock of feeling from his right hand abruptly pulls the world into stark contrast. It aches, maybe, behind and underneath the layers of wrongness, a single shred of reality, and he closes his fist to feel the sparks again and again.

It’s not pain — not quite. It wants to be, but Fox’s nerve endings are misfiring, severing themselves from his synapses as his body corrupts. It’s starbursts of sensation that sear through an impenetrable, suffocating fog; clashes of a cymbal to accompany the percussion of his heart and the unfaltering hum of the fluorescent lights above.

Fox understands pain, but he doesn’t understand this. He understands pain for the lessons it can teach, but he is failing to learn this lesson. He’s not sure this is pain at all. Pain is getting caught outside of cover and taking a blaster bolt to the gut, or not being fast-strong-cunning-ruthless enough on the training mats, or failing to dodge the Red Guard’s electrostaff during the Chancellor’s extracurricular lessons. Pain is useful; endurance of pain even more so. A soldier unacquainted with pain can’t function on a battlefield, or learn from critical mistakes, or (gods forbid) tolerate torture without cracking open.

If this is pain, and pain is meant to be some sort of lesson, what lesson is Fox evidentially incapable of learning? Just how defective is he? He squeezes his right hand in his left, lets the pain-not-pain fill his awareness until there’s no room left for this wicked miasma eating him alive.

Suddenly, there are hands on his wrists.

A twisted thing crawls up his throat and tears out through his teeth, and he swings, disoriented, clamoring for a single inch of control in a tumultuous storm. The grip holds fast against his thrashing until Fox abruptly registers the staccato being tapped out on his vambrace. Vod. Vod. Vod.

A brother — Thorn, Thorn is here — hovers before him, the determined set of his shoulders betraying none of the alarm Fox thinks he’d see in his eyes if he had the strength to look. “Fox,” Thorn says, “Fox’ika, I’m here. You’re safe.”

He’s not safe. He’s not, but Thorn is here and whole and keeping the danger away, and that’s not nothing.

“Let’s get your bucket off,” Thorn suggests, and then to the tense breath Fox hisses out in response, “It’s okay; Stone’s outside, he’s keeping watch. It’s safe.” And Fox believes him, because Thorn never lies to him. Thorn tells it like it is.

A snap-hiss, and Thorn gently lifts Fox’s helmet off. Cool air rushes over his face and fills his lungs.

“Good, that’s good. A couple more of those, like this.” Thorn takes a big breath, and Fox tries to copy him but his lungs are broken; the breath he takes is in starts and stops. A strangled whine squeezes out with his exhale. “I know,” Thorn says, “It’ll get easier.”

And it does. Thorn has worked his thumbs between Fox vambraces and blacks, rubbing small circles into his wrists, and it feels like everything. The lighthouse coming into view from out on a choppy sea. The anchor that keeps him tethered to the waking world. The offer of shelter from a vicious storm.

His sense of time is fractured. By the time Fox can inhale and exhale a complete breath it feels as though hours have passed, Thorn murmuring words of encouragement and squeezing gently whenever Fox starts to get sucked back into the fog.

Fox opens his eyes, and Thorn meets it with a smile. “That’s it, vod. I’m right here. Keep breathing.”

Thorn is here. It’s safe. The tension he didn’t realize was holding him together suddenly abates, rushing out of him like debris out an airlock, and he sags forward into Thorn’s waiting arms. Thorn’s free hand comes up to card through Fox’s sweaty curls, the other still encircling Fox’s wrist, as the marshal commander presses his forehead into his brother’s armored chest.

Sorry, Fox signs shakily, but he feels Thorn already shaking his head.

“Don’t you dare. You have nothing to apologize for.” Gently, as though Fox is something deserving of of reverence, Thorn removes Fox’s face from his chest and pulls him into a keldabe. They breathe in sync like this for a long, peaceful moment. “How about we go see Lore and fix your hand, and then have some midmeal in the barracks?” At Fox’s dour expression, Thorn rolls his eyes. “Alright then, let me rephrase. We’re going to medbay, and then having some midmeal in the barracks. You’ll feel better. Think you’re ready to stand?”

Fox thinks he might never be able to stand again. He does, though, and with Thorn’s support, ambles through the threshold of the supply closet. Stone sweeps in to support Fox’s other side.

The stranger is nowhere to be seen.

#commander fox #coruscant guard #star wars fanfiction #clone trooper #clone trooper fanfiction #commander fox fanfiction #i’m so nervous to post this nobody has read my writing in years #i have a tendency to over-write and i Know this is an example of that but awooooo whatever #jackwords #jackfic

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adrift-in-thyme · 8 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 4: Obedience (Link/Midna)

Ao3

CW for blood and injury, torture, and mild body horror

——————————-

Midna is no stranger to the sound of screams.

Her people had cried out when Zant had taken the throne and transformed her beautiful kingdom into something dark and twisted. Their cries of agony and anguish had echoed in her ears as she fled, a hideous imp, humiliated and furious. And they have remained with her all this time, spurring her onward toward salvation and victory.

But the noise that fills the air now is terrible in its own right. It pierces her skull and sets her heart racing erratically in her chest. And it feels as though it has been going on for eternity.

In reality, however, it has probably only been a few minutes. It doesn’t matter though. Midna has never derived joy from seeing Link suffer. This time is no different.

“Midna,” Zant’s leering voice reaches her ears once more, cascading smoothly over the waning sound of the hero’s hoarse screams. “Be an obedient dear and lend me your power. Do so and your precious, little human need not suffer further.”

Midna’s gaze travels down to where Link kneels mere feet away from her. His body is rigid, held in place by invisible bindings. His cap has fallen a short distance from him; his tunic and pants are splotched with mud, sweat, and blood. Tears stream down his ashen cheeks and well in his eyes, turning their gray the color of a stormy sky. But there is fire in them.

“Don’t,” he gasps, voice painfully ragged. “Please, Midna.”

Zant flicks a hand and the hero tenses further, an agonized whine breaking free.

“Quiet, dog,” he growls. “Count yourself lucky that I have allowed you the dignity of this form rather than letting the twilight have its way with you.”

“Lucky?” Midna shrieks, unable and unwilling to restrain herself. The nerve of this man! Calling himself her king, banishing her from her kingdom, demanding her aid…and now, hurting the hero. Her hero. “Being a human in a twilight realm is excruciating and you know that full well!”

“Come now, Midna,” Zant purrs, rounding her once more. His attempts at sweetness are as sour as his breath. “Calm yourself. This…human is pathetic in comparison to us. He has enjoyed the fruits of his people’s cruelty for far too long. It is time he felt some small portion of what we have endured.”

Midna is seething now. If only she were in her true form. If only she had that shadow crystal. She would rip this monster’s limbs off and cast him into the light-filled world he so detests.

“What we’ve endured?” She spits. “What about the things my people have suffered by your hand? You call yourself their king while you turn them into disgusting beasts!”

She kicks out, struggling against her bonds. But they hold fast, as suffocating and restrictive as this world.

“I have made the kingdom what it long should have been,” Zant replies, tone darkening. “You would have had it fall into obscurity and disrepair. You would have had our people forget all that they have endured because of the light dwellers.

“But you evade the question, my fallen princess. Will you help me or not?”

Link’s eyes find hers. He is breathing hard, shuddering beneath the weight of his own form. And yet, he smiles. It is only the slightest upturn of the lips, like a thread of twilight stretching bravely into the world of light. But Midna sees it all the same.

“Never.”

The word when she speaks it, shatters the momentary silence. She doesn’t have to see him to know Zant’s expression has turned murderous.

(Though, if she’s being honest, does it ever not look murderous? The man is vile.)

Her eyes, however, are only for Link. He is looking at her with pride in his gaze, pride and…maybe the beginnings of something else? She can’t be certain.

Whatever it is, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No?” Zant laughs and it seems to echo in the cavernous space. “Well then. You truly have fallen far Midna, to conspire with light dwellers in such a way. It nauseates me!”

Power surges through the air, a projectile of pure darkness slicing its way toward the hero. The energy it emanates is so dark, so sinister the air reverberates with it.

Midna gasps as she realizes what is about to happen. With an enraged screech, she struggles even harder than before. But she is helpless to stop it.

Darkness, fierce and sharp, collides with Link’s chest. It keeps going, shoving aside flesh and muscle and bone to burrow deep into his heart. His eyes go wide, blood bubbling from his lips as he chokes on a cry.

“This light dweller pretends to care for you and your world,” Zant sneers. “Perhaps, then, he will enjoy internalizing the shadows you inhabit.”

A skull-shattering scream pierces the air. Link thrashes, fighting desperately to get loose. Streaks of black crawl across his skin now, craters of molten obsidian amongst bloodless white.

“I wonder how much he can take before he breaks,” Zant muses.

He twists sleeve-hidden fingers and abruptly, Link crumples. Shadows dance in the air around him as he transforms. And then a beast lays twitching on the ground before her.

“No, stop!” The shout breaks free before she can restrain it.

But Zant doesn’t seem to even hear her. He is too enraptured by his own sadistic glee at Link’s agony.

The shadows around him grow thicker now, more potent. The obsidian marks spread like jagged lines of ink and blood oozes in their wake. They mar the hero’s lush gray coat, trickle into his once-bright eyes.

Midna inhales a ragged breath. If she doesn’t stop this, if she doesn’t act Link will die. That cannot happen.

She needs him to help her save her kingdom and her people. She needs him to save that little country town of his, and the kids who gaze at him like he is the sun itself, and the family he adores despite how they so violently despised his wolf form. She needs him to save the land Zelda has sacrificed so much for, the land Link looks upon with wonder.

She needs…she needs him.

So, she takes a deep breath and focuses. There is a crack, she realizes with a spark of hope, in the magic Zant is using to restrain her. She isn’t certain how she didn’t see it before. Perhaps, it wasn’t even there before.

It doesn’t matter. All that’s important is the way she can exploit it.

Midna forces her hands inside it, pulls it wider and wider until it is a gaping hole. Then, she shoves herself through, shattering her bonds as she does so. And when she opens her eyes once more, she is free.

She hits the ground with a dull thud and scrambles up. Zant whirls to face her, a screech of indignation ringing out as he unsheathes his swords. But she is too fast for him.

Fiery locks fly free, scooping the still-shuddering hero into their silken folds. Magic surges through her panicked and quick. And with a burst of sharp shadows, they are gone.

She lands them in Hyrule Field, for lack of a better place. It is far from most villages at least, with their mindless terror and ready torches. Gently, she lowers Link into the blades of green grass.

She can only hope that the teleportation wasn’t too much for him. But what other choice had she had?

“Link.”

Midna reaches out, ghostly fingers brushing his cheek. The word hitches in her throat, traitorous emotion struggling to break free. Fiercely, she shoves it back down.

“Come on, you idiot! Wake up!”

As if in response, his breath stutters. Gray-blue eyes flutter open, flitting about in a panic before they land on her. He shifts, brushing his nose against her immaterial form. A low whine echoes in his throat.

Midna lets out a shaky sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. Worry about yourself like you should.”

Link huffs a breath, seeming indignant. But his efforts are weak. His usual snark is gone with his strength, sapped by the madman who had sought to use him.

Shaking her head, Midna turns to gaze at the castle that bravely rises past the horizon.

“You just hold on, Link,” she murmurs. “I’ll get you the help you need.”

And after that? She’ll find the might necessary to hurl Zant into the sun.

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhump day 4 #torture tw #blood tw #injury tw #mild body horror #angst #whump #trin writes #pre-lu #loz #twilight princess #midlink #I love the lakebed temple cutscene SO MUCH #and on my recent replay thought #‘hey what if link got tortured like midna was?’#had a bunch of dark magic poured into him instead of light #and lo and behold this came out

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biscuitblinkeu · 1 year

Text

Not Quite Dead [3]

Kim Jisoo x Fem!reader

Word Count: 3726

Quick!: You use the fox marble to visit your brothers and it comes with a price. There’s a hesitation to let Jisoo in and allow yourself to get to know her, but it’s withering every moment you spend with her. You hear a lot about how the things she does for you are unusual compared to other “sacrifices,” and wonder if you’ll ever find what she is actually like… Oh, and you meet Lalisa.

A/N: It’s here…finally. Not proofread (yet?)! I don’t like this post-once-a-month thing going on with me at all. 😭

Jisoo squeezed your hands. “How about we visit them? Would you like that? It’s much better than sending a letter.”

You bit your lip and looked into her eyes. They were earnest. You nodded slowly. “Of course. I’d love to.”

“Well then,” she said brightly. She led you by your hand through the forest and back to the house. You stopped in front of the main entrance when Jisoo turned around. “I’m not used to traveling with company from here, so,” Jisoo began, tongue prodding her cheek. “I’ll have to use…” She paused and rolled out her tongue for a moment, revealing a small, translucent, blue-colored bead. She had that in her mouth the whole time?

“Jisoo, what is that?”

“My fox marble,” she explained, looking embarrassed— but then again, that’s really not an explanation.

“Fox…marble?” You inquired with raised brows, staring at it. The marble seemed to hold a tiny storm within it.

“Yes— you’ll learn all about it later, but as of right now… I don’t fancy tirelessly trekking through your village late at night, especially when it could give villagers the idea you got rejected by me. My preferred method of transportation will be quick and efficient: humans may call it teleportation.”

You thought back on how Jisoo seemed to appear, sometimes unwanted or unexpectedly, with her powerful voice resonating through the air. You remembered your first encounter with her: when you were teleported to the bedroom, how time seemed to slow and the world stretched around you abnormally. The dizziness and instability that overwhelmed you after.

Just thinking about it made your stomach lurch, but you weren’t going to be picky. You had a chance to see your brothers and you’d be a fool to pass it up. “Okay… how are we going to do that?”

Slowly, her lips pulled into a smirk. Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Well, darling, it’s really such a simple thing. I only need one thing.”

“That is?” You asked impatiently.

“A kiss,” she answered with a toothy grin. It was the grin of a predator. You suppressed a shiver.

“A kiss…?” You had half the sense to not laugh in her face. It sounded like a bad joke to you.

“Yes. To protect you from the warp I’ll be opening outside of the forest, you have to hold my fox marble in your mouth, and I am to transfer it to you during a kiss— I know. It must seem ridiculous to you but that is the only way it will work.”

You furrowed your brows. It was ridiculous, not a must-be ridiculous. But she was right there, watching you with those dark eyes, seemingly expectantly awaiting the action. The longer you stared, much to your chagrin, the more Jisoo appeared to be truthful. You pinched the bridge of your nose, releasing a heavy breath. “Fine,” you said.

Jisoo beamed. “Ready?”

You nodded and closed your eyes, squeezing them tightly as you waited. Your heart pounded against your chest as if it were going to burst out of its cage. Hands slithered around your lower back and pulled you forward, flush against the Kumiho. Jisoo always seemed to be hot; her warmth even more tangible from the increased proximity. You held your breath.

“Relax,” she whispered softly against your ear. Her breath sent goosebumps rising on your skin, and you shivered involuntarily, feeling a pleasant tingling spread throughout you. Stop. The sound of your heartbeat thundered in your ears. “It will take only a minute,” she said, the words lingering in the air, echoing in your skull. She’s right. You need to calm down. It’s really not a big deal.

Jisoo cupped your jaw with a hand and without a second more, pressed her lips against yours. Soft and gentle. She didn’t move her lips much, wanting to give you a chance to move away if you felt uncomfortable. When you kissed back she hummed happily against your mouth, pressing herself closer. It was as if she wanted to melt against you.

Her lips dragged across your own. The sensation was unexpectedly both thrilling and electrifying (—an understatement). Coaxing your lips to part, her tongue swiped across the seam of your mouth. You didn’t quite understand, but opened your mouth to allow her entrance. Her tongue met yours and swept inside, tasting you. Giving gifts. You sighed. Jisoo’s grip tightened on your waist.

Something cold and small was insistently pressed against your tongue as the kiss progressed. As you lost your breath. The fox marble. As quick as the marble entered, Jisoo parted with a tug on your bottom lip and you felt strangely disappointed it was over. That she was true to her word. In reality, the kiss was really only a minute or two, even if it felt like an eternity to you.

You slowly opened your eyes, surprised to find Jisoo already gazing at you with a pleased smile. Her lips curved upwards. “Did you enjoy it?”

You were unable to register her words quickly as you were still dazed, your thoughts spinning madly in circles, your heart palpitating in your chest. The kiss was…nice. And if it came to it, you’d do it again, even. You didn’t feel disgusted after, surprisingly. Your cheeks burned as she stared intensely. You cleared your throat and looked elsewhere, leaving her without answer.

Jisoo laughed, lifting your chin up with a finger. Your reaction was enough, however— A thoughtful look clouded her face. “You don’t know how to breathe do you?”

"I tried to." You replied dryly, and that's all Jisoo needs to know that you’re inexperienced. "It was my first time kissing...like that." Your first kiss, and taken by a Kumiho.

"Of course," Jisoo says knowingly, amused and fond; prideful she got such a chance to claim your first kiss.

The tiny fox marble was nestled under your tongue and you were careful not to accidentally swallow it. If the fox marble held such great power, as Jisoo said before, why didn’t you feel any changes? Why aren’t you sparkling or feeling on top of the world? Then again, maybe it doesn’t work that way. You were irrationally disappointed. “Let down?” Jisoo questioned with a raised brow. “The fox marble doesn’t affect anything physically. It’s more of a mental change,” she explained.

“What does mentality have to do with teleporting?” You grumbled.

“A lot,” she answered vaguely, taking your hand in hers. In her other hand she held her fox mask, the same one you saw when you first met. “I’m going to open a rift now, so close your eyes. You could be blinded,” she instructed, putting the mask on. You did as you were told, and suddenly a bright light assaulted your eyelids, and a rush of wind sprayed you. A crackling noise similar to lightning came from what you assume was the rift. You were tugged forward and everything turned pitch black. The atmosphere around you felt strangely bare and cold, slow-moving. The surface underneath your feet turned soft and the familiar sound of village-goers reached your ears.

“Open your eyes, love.” Jisoo told you.

“It felt different that time,” you commented when you opened your eyes. You took a step forward and almost fell, the only thing stopping your fall being the hand on your forearm. “Nevermind,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as you willed the dizziness to go away. You’ll probably never get used to it.

In front of you was your house. Most of the lights were on, and through the kitchen windows you could see a middle-aged woman. Her sleeves were rolled up and she had her hair into a bun, a small smile on her lips as she scrubbed dishes. Dong-woo had kept her word. Your shoulders sagged with relief and Jisoo watched with a glint in her eyes.

You were suddenly struck with an intense longing to see your brother's faces and began walking to the front door only to be held back from Jisoo still holding your hand. You turned to Jisoo with a frown on your face. She lifted her gaze from your hands, meeting your eyes. “You can’t go through the front. We need to be stealthy with this.”

You almost whined. “Why? This is my house.”

Jisoo looked around. Specifically at the black and red banners, the poor, hand-painted illustration of what humans thought a Kumiho looked like– festival propaganda– in the middle of the banner, and the symbols depicting the relationship between Kumihos and humans just below. Jisoo almost felt flattered. Almost. “It may be your house, but you’ve been declared dead for what I know.”

Her words struck you addled. “...Dead? It's only been, what? Four or five days at most?”

“Longer than that. Time runs peculiarly in the center of the forest. Everything outside of it seems to speed up,” Jisoo said after a long silence, her body shrinking away from how you could react. The nearly unnoticeable, slight lean away, the tapping fingers.

Anger boiled up inside you and you bit back a hiss. “Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“It truly slipped my mind. I'm sorry.”

You let out a slow breath. To be declared dead, the village had to go four weeks without hearing from the Kumiho or sacrifice. “Then how long has it really been?”

“Almost two weeks,” Jisoo said honestly.

You nibbled on your bottom lip nervously. “They can’t declare me deceased if it's only been two weeks– It usually takes longer. Much longer.” Hurt flinched across your face, suspicion slicing through your thoughts. Did Dong-woo really think you wouldn’t last as long as the other sacrifices? That your life was so– insignificant? Of course she did. Your heart was pulsating now, blood running hot beneath your skin. What about your brothers?

“Is going around to the back an option?” You asked Jisoo, turning away to hide the emotions running rampant on your face.

“It is,” she confirmed. Jisoo stared at the back of your head as you led her to the back of your home. She was no mind reader, but it didn’t take a lot to know you were upset.

…

The lamp cast a wash of yellow light at your feet, but it did little to light the area properly this dark of night. In the back of the house was a large window and a door leading outside. Through that window was your brothers’ bedroom. You were disappointed to see that the curtains weren’t drawn closed well enough to keep others from peering in. It was something you scolded your brothers about numerous times. You never know what can happen.

Inside the room, a much smaller lamp set on a nightstand between two beds highlighted the faces of your sleeping brothers. They were sleeping in the same bed, and the thought that they comforted each other warmed your heart– yet, you were declared dead. Did your brothers believe it?

But they were being taken care of. That's all that matters to you.

“They look like you,” Jisoo commented softly beside you, startling you out of your head. You were standing closer than you realized.

You glanced at her with a wrinkle of your nose. “Are you sure? Maybe you can’t see all that well in this darkness.”

Jisoo stopped herself from responding. I'm a fox spirit. Of course I can see well in the dark lingered on her tongue. Instead, Jisoo asked, “Would you like to get closer?”

“Closer? How? I thought you said we should stay stealthy?”

“Yes, I did. But it would not hurt to get closer. I know you want to,” she answered, ears flickering. Jisoo walked to the door that led inside into the hall, your brother's room on the right side.

You watched her as she reached for the knob. “I’m sure it’s locked.”

A click sounded out and Jisoo opened the door, throwing you a look over her shoulder. (A simple lock won’t stop her. ) You hurried in after her, closing the door behind you as quietly as you could. The clinking of dishes could be heard further down the hallway and you prayed the nanny didn’t decide to check on your brothers.

Jisoo walked into your brother's room first, you just a step behind her, and stopped abruptly. You went to complain only to realize her whole body went rigid and her breathing had stalled momentarily. You looked past her to see U-jin awake.

He was rubbing his eyes, clearing the sleep that glazed them over. He blinked a few times, and you imagined he was surprised with the way his eyes widened. Jisoo stepped further into the room cautiously. U-jin looked like he wanted to scream, only he couldn’t. His mouth was sealed shut but the panic reflected in his eyes. The kumiho is coming for him now that you’re gone, he thought. But that wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Not with the way you rushed to his side of the bed (Minnie was fast asleep beside him) and pulled him to your chest. Not with the way his fingers instinctively wrapped around your shirt, pulling himself closer to you, as if trying to make sure your warmth was real.

Was it?

“Oh, U-jin… I’m…” I’m here. I’m not dead. You felt a palpable relief just being able to hold your brother.

“Are you…are you really here?” He whispered, finding his voice again, looking up at you with wide eyes. Tears filled them and the look on his face made something inside of you ache. His eyes were glossy and wet, his cheeks flushed, his lips chapped, and his voice thick with emotion. His hair was disheveled and sticking out every which way from the bed, and unable to fight your sisterly-urges, you raked your fingers through his hair to tame it.

“I’m here,” you assured him, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead before backing away.

“I thought you were…” He swallowed and glanced at Jisoo. She tried not to bristle at the insinuation that she killed you. (Even if it was a reasonable conclusion.) “Gone,” he whispered, eyes dropping to his hands.

“I’m right here; alive. I swear I’ll explain everything,” you told him.

“I waited.” He looked up to meet your eyes. “I hoped you would send something…anything.”

Your heart clenched painfully, and guilt pricked your throat and stung in the back of your eyes, but you forced yourself to blink them away. If you cried now, you’d definitely wake Minnie up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took this long for me to come back to you.”

U-jin nodded and tried to smile. He was still in shock. “Okay.”

“She’s coming,” Jisoo said, having heard the water turn off. Ujin stiffened on reflex, looking confused for a second. Then he remembered that she was still there. He didn’t know whether to label her a threat or not. It was clear she brought you here, and for that he was grateful.

You bit your lip. It didn’t feel fair that Minnie wasn’t awake to see you, but he slept like a log. “I’ll tell him when he wakes up,” U-jin said, knowing what was going through your head. “But you guys should go,” he said, clearing his throat.

You nodded slowly, hesitating to leave so soon. You shared a glance with Jisoo and then turned back to Ujin. “I’ll come back, okay?”

Ujin-squeezed your hand. “You better.”

The crackling of the warp began to fade as it gradually closed behind you. You took a moment to ground yourself before opening your eyes. You were back on the wooden porch of Jisoo’s estate.

“Are you satisfied?” Jisoo asked, holding the door open for you.

You nodded as you passed. “I just wish I could see them whenever I wanted,” you sighed, then quickly added, “But I’m happy I got to see them at all.”

Jisoo hummed. “What if I were to bring them here? Not now, but soon. I'd give them somewhere nice to stay, anything they’d like. You could see them whenever you want.”

“That’d be…that would be amazing— if they wanted it,” you smiled. Jisoo followed behind you, stopping once you reached your room. You turned to her only to find her narrowed eyes roaming the hallways, her nose twitching. There was a frown on her face. “Jisoo,” you called gently, bringing her attention back to you. “Is something wrong?”

Her expression changed immediately and she shook her head with an apologetic smile. “No,” she admitted, plastering a smile on her face. “Just thinking.”

You nodded. You weren’t going to pry. If Jisoo was cryptic, you’ve come to know it’s something she didn’t want to talk about.

Jisoo took a step closer to you and placed her hand on your cheek, running her thumb along your jaw. Her touch was feather light, almost as if she were afraid you might break at any given time. You held your breath, warmth blooming across your face as your thoughts returned to earlier. “I want to kiss you again,” Jisoo murmured, her tone low. “Can I?” Her question hung in the air, her eyes hopeful, her gaze intense.

“…Yes,” you whispered, rendered breathless from how fast your heart was beating. Jisoo grinned. Her lips grazed yours. Just a gentle press, but with enough pressure to let you know she wanted more than that but also to tell you that she was ready to take whatever steps you deemed appropriate. That you were allowed to take the lead. You ran your fingers through her hair, pulling her even closer, deepening the kiss.

You parted with a shy smile, Jisoo’s looking much more confident. “Well, aren’t you a fast learner,” she teased. Jisoo guided you to the doorframe, fingertips tapping lightly along your hips. “I have something to take care of… I hope you have a wonderful night, darling.”

“You too,” you responded.

You stepped into your room with a sigh, shutting the door behind you. You hadn’t realized how late it became, and the fatigue was reaching you. Despite feeling tired, you went and took a shower. Jiseul was waiting at your door when you came back, rocking on his heels.

“Ms. (Y/l/n)—”

You grimaced. “Just, (Y/n). Drop the Ms. It's too formal. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask how it went. She took you to see your family, didn’t she?” Jiseul said as he wandered past you and into your room. You followed him.

“She did,” you answered, smiling. But then you remembered how he ditched you in the forest when Jisoo came. “You abandoned me,” you whined, pointing a finger at him.

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that.” He didn’t look sorry at all (not that you could see his entire face anyways).

“I knew she would take you if you had simply asked. You must’ve been happy, did you get to talk to them?”

“I was. Only one of them was awake.”

Jiseul hummed, and you wondered why he decided to talk to you about this, this late at night. “This is unusual for Jisoo.”

“What do you mean?” You asked. The boy stayed quiet. If this was so unusual, and that she truly went out of her way, you were even more grateful. She could’ve prevented you from seeing your family at all.

With this thought, you remembered you didn’t say thank you.

Surely you’d catch her somewhere in the hallways— except, as you left your room with Jiseul and roamed the corridors in search of her, there was no sign of her. You frowned. You turned around, intending to go back the way you came only to see that standing further down the hallway was a woman wearing a hanbok similar to Jisoo’s. Her eyes were soft, her jawline prominent, and there was a small mole below her right eye. Yet another being— not human, of course— that looked unreal. What caught your eye was the set of ears on her head: white cat ears, and the several tails behind them. A Kumiho? Or a half-human, half-cat woman?

You were noticed before you could even consider sneaking away, and you held your breath when she locked eyes with you. “Oh? And who are you?” She tilted her head, eyes traveling across your entirety with something akin to curiosity.

You let out a squeak and scurried around the corner and into the nearest room, pulling Jiseul with you, using the wall to conceal yourself. The masked-boy looked at you, feeling slightly perplexed. “...Ms? Why are we–”

“(Y/n).” You corrected quietly. He would learn to use your name soon enough.

“Why are we hiding from Lisa…(Y/n)?”

The woman's name was Lisa. Could she be a friend of Jisoo’s perhaps? If she was, you wondered if she ate humans. You trusted Jisoo (to a degree) but were wary of other Kumiho, aware that not all of them were like Jisoo. You would not allow yourself to be swayed by this Kumiho’s kind smile and pleasant voice.

“Well I’ve already seen you; come out now,” she laughed, her footsteps nearing. Hesitating, you shuffled out of the room, gaze dragging across the floor. Jiseul, beside you, bowed as the stranger approached. “You’re the new husband.” Lisa said, knowing. She wondered how long Jisoo would keep you. How long you’d allow her to keep you. The others didn’t fare too well.

You grimaced at “husband,” even more determined to keep your head down. The woman chuckled. “Shy, are we? Or…” Her sentence trailed off, and your heart jumped. She was scrutinizing you, and her eyes burned into your hairline. She’d figured you out.

“You…” Lisa began, her voice a mere whisper, before her nose twitched and she turned her attention to the doorway she was standing at moments before you got caught. Jisoo stepped into the hallway. She gave Lisa a look. “Please don’t wander around as you please, you’re scaring some of the servants.”

Lisa ignored her and turned back at you only for her mouth to fall open with a gasp. Her face pinched and she glowered at you, prompting you to take a careful step back. Jisoo lied to her. She didn't know what to do with these feelings of hostility.

You were just too cute.

Would you like to continue?

#biscuitblinkeu #blackpink x reader #fanfic #blackpink #fem reader #kim jisoo x reader #kim jisoo x fem reader #kim jisoo #tomorrow’sblessings.biscuit

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mlmvoreconfessionals · 6 months

Note

Undertale is so good!!! Could you do any prompts with Sans as a pred? Disposal too if you can. !

I bet I can make more for him, yeah!

“Hey, do you mind moving?” The voice makes S.ans open one eye and look up. Since getting to the surface, he’s been enjoying a lot of the privileges that come with it. Like sunbathing on the beachside. Of course, that also means many more complications.

A human is looking down at S.ans, frowning. The beach is a bit crowded and even a casual glance around shows that there aren't many good open spots. S.ans is taking up a rather large one just for himself. He likes the space. S.ans shrugs and shifts slightly to the left. “There.”

The human clearly didn’t appreciate the joke. “Alright, buddy.” He stoops down and grabs S.ans by the shirt, lifting him up. He fully intended to just toss the skeleton aside. But then he feels something grip him, S.ans’s eye glowing slightly. The skeleton’s jaws open wide, drooling slightly, and the human’s head is engulfed before he can even scream.

The man lets go of him but can’t move enough to fight back. S.ans starts gulping wetly, sinking down the human’s shoulders and chest. He’s on his feet again as he reaches the man’s stomach and starts lifting him up.

A slow slurping sound rings out as the human’s legs slowly sink down. All the while, S.ans’s gut stretches out more and more. He lies back down on his towel, folding his arms behind his head. He releases the grip his magic had, letting the human’s legs kick slightly from outside his jaws. But they’re fine with a final slurp and a gulp, sending the man down the hatch.

With a low, crass belch, S.ans gives a few rough pats to his belly. “Hah…alright, there we go. More than enough space for both of us to share, right?” S.ans’s gut sloshes around wetly as his meal squirms. The skeleton just shrugs and folds his arms behind his head again. “Eh, maybe not a whole lot for you…”

S.ans settles back down from there, letting his gut do its thing. It groans and gurgles deeply, sitting in the sun to help it with its work. The skeleton’s stomach steadily rounds out and shrinks down, the human inside going still and silent. S.ans belches in his sleep and lazily scratches his stomach.

When he comes to, the beach is much emptier. The skeleton yawns and sits up, lazily rubbing his eye sockets. His gut groans deeply and he puts his hands on it gently. “Hey, buddy. Still want this spot, huh?” He sighs and shrugs. “Alright, I’m done with it.”

Getting to his feet, S.ans shuffled the towel aside and drops his pants. He squats down and starts to push. His gut groans deeply and with some effort, a thick log of shit begins to press out. Once it’s coming free, it’s a much smoother process, and he sighs softly as the human starts coiling up under him.

The beach is much cooler with the sun going down, so the warmth of the shit S.ans is leaving is kind of nice. The smell…less so. But with enough time, he punches off the last log and is able to stand up again. The pile is up to his waist, bones sticking out and a skull near the top. S.ans chuckles and gives it a wave. “Enjoy the spot. It’s all yours.” He bundles up his towel under his arm and heads home with a lazy whistle.

When a wet-sounding fart echoes out in the house, P.apyrus groans and puts a hand to his face. He’s certain that was S.ans sitting on a whoopee cushion. He never did get that. The point of the joke is that other people sit on it, yes? But he’s certain that S.ans does it like this just to annoy him.

He’d go and reprimand his brother but he’s busy making dinner right now. He’s sure S.ans only planned to do it the one time. He wouldn’t be getting back up again for any reason, even to set off the whoopee cushion again. Though, there is a different sound in the air. A thick bubbling that’s distinct from the boiling pot P.apyrus is tending to. And some muffled voices. The TV, maybe..?

When P.apyrus hears the whoopee cushion again, he pauses. He can’t believe his brother. The only time he’s not lazy it’s for the absolute worst jokes! Who sits on a whoopee cushion twice? On purpose, no less? He shakes his head and turns to look at the kitchen doorway. “S.ans, no whoopee cushions before dinner! It’ll spoil your appetite!”

“Ya got it, bro,” is the lazy and faint reply, S.ans not even bothering to raise his voice to respond. P.apyrus just shakes his head and returns to cooking. He can’t hear that muffled voice anymore and the boiling sound is getting louder, too. What is S.ans even watching on the television? It better not be cooking shows! He knows that he shouldn’t watch those without P.apyrus!

P.apyrus is finally starting to drain the pasta when he hears S.ans grunting. It almost sounds like he’s doing something laborious, which is odd, since he never does anything like that. There’s another whoopee cushion sound before S.ans sighs and something starts to thump on the ground. Finally done with this terrible joke, P.apyrus leaves the kitchen to confront his brother.

“S.ans, what did I say about—“ He stops in the doorway as he sees his brother. The stout skeleton is squatting over the floor, shorts down and ass exposed. Dense, thick shit is sliding out of him, piling up on the ground. Bones are baked into the mess and the stink is finally noticeable.

S.ans looks at his brother and grins. “Oh, hey...nngh…bro.” Another log drops out, a ribcage baked into it. “You mind putting my pasta in the fridge tonight? I already had a bite to eat.” S.ans grunts again as a final log coils up on the top of the mess, a skull sticking out of it. The skeleton sighs deeply and stands up again.

P.apyrus stares at his brother and the pile of crap he left on their living room floor. Then he throws his hands up. “I told you not to ruin your appetite! And clean that up!” He turns and stomps back into the kitchen, grumbling to himself. Now he’s going to have to eat all of the spaghetti himself!

“BBWwwwwwWWWOOOOOooouuurrrrp!!!” A deep, wet belch rumbles out across the room, like a thundering roar. S.ans sighs deeply once it ends and readjusts the mic stand, his gut now squishing against it.

“Well, I hope the rest of you are enjoying the food like I am,” S.ans says with a few pats to his gut. It sloshes back and forth, muffled yells being caught by the mic. His meal wasn’t having a great time now being packed away in the bubbling, groaning gut.

He’d been an audience member about five minutes ago. He was heckling the acts all night, and while S.ans loved a good back and forth, he doesn’t like jerks. So he brought the guy onto the stage and…

Another belch echoes out into the mic as S.ans’s gut stretches out. It clenches back down, squishing the person back into place with a muffled whine. He rubs over his gut, getting right back into his act without skipping a beat. He has some new on-the-fly material thanks to the meal kicking in his gut, which provided some very wet and noisy background noise to the act. It seems to be well enough received by the audience.

All the while, S.ans’s gut steadily shrinks down. It gurgles and groans even louder as it does, softening up the hackles and pumping him away through S.ans’s system. It’ll make him a little chubbier all around but not enough that it’ll be an issue. What will be an issue is the heavyweight sinking deeper inside of him.

A low, deep groan rumbles out of S.ans’s stomach and he pats it. “Heh, didn’t think my last joke was that bad. No need to groan over it!” His gut rumbles hard again and he winces slightly. “Oh, I get it. He’s got a joke of his own. Well…nnf…let’s hear it…” S.ans squats down on stage, pulling his shorts down. He faces the audience with it and a wet fart comes out. And then something much more solid does.

A log of shit spreads S.ans out and begins to coil up on the stage floor. He grunts softly and keeps pushing, eyes closed as he lets out a pleased groan. Bones are sticking out of the crap, a skeleton essentially coming out feet first as S.ans dumps his heckler. “Hff…he’s really…dragging this bit out, huh..?”

The pile keeps growing, logs breaking off every so often as they heap up. S.ans finally grunts hard as he pushes out a skull to top the pile off. It sits half buried in the muck, jaws open wide. S.ans gets back to his feet and grabs the mic. “Alright. Looks like we know which of us is a ‘shit comedian’ now, huh? I’ll be here next week if anyone else wants to test that out.” S.ans chuckles to himself and sidesteps the mess, finally done with his set.

#v.ore #gay vore #male vore #m/m vore #mlm vore #vore prompts #male vore prompts #oral vore #digestion #fatal vore #disposal #undertalevore #sansvore #ask

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iaus · 3 months

Text

find me

@cybebully ask and ye shall receive

G | 1,520 words if i found a way to stay with you tonight it would only make me late for a date i can't escape - way out there, lord huron

There’s a thought that breaks through the rage—that lingers with every swing, with the burning radiance that sears Salem’s skin and fur, makes his very being hum: Frederick’s dead. He knows it in his very marrow, as if someone has whispered the secret into his skin.

Intimate. True. Unavoidable.

It’s a rage he hasn’t felt in decades—the years of numbness stretching out behind him and breaking in a single jagged line. Between the rage, the burn, the anticipation of the hunt: Everything falls before him. The last water weird splits, scatters back to the water it came from and it’s as easy as breathing to cast off Yerafyn’s spell.

The water greets him like an old friend—and then the darkness.

The noise is muffled within—distant, the stench of digested food overwhelms the senses.

Finding Frederick is easy. He has memorized his slight frame, and the burn of celestial light illuminates him among the acid. He draws him up, easily, like he has done so many times before—a perfect weight in his arms.

He tightens his hold on Freawaru, and with a bestial snarl he smashes the flail into the inner walls of the creature’s belly. Light and rage heavy his blows, and he laughs as the creature rumbles around him—pained contractions. He stays close—ready to wrap clawed hands around Frederick—he won’t leave him. Even in the haze of rage and pain, he knows Yerafyn and Maeve can fix this—they brought Salem back from the halls of the dead and their familiar whispers, they can fix Frederick.

With a snarling laugh, he brings Freawaru down again along soft, tender flesh.

He tightens his hold on Frederick—his body, his corpse, gods it was fine when Salem was the one dead on the floor—and is once again, submerged. The burning of light of his body, giving one last burst of pain to the fetid creature. It shudders and with a bubbling scream, sinks.

Salem has always felt as if the rage leaving his body were a sudden wave of cold.

He feels nothing as it sputters out—the light within him smothered to ash as the weight in his arms feels so heavy.

He thinks, briefly, of Alfie—of the nameless child he knew would eventually rip out his heart. Death has been no stranger to his life, but he had hoped he had left its toll behind in the blood-stained desert.

“You—you can fix this,” his voice feels hoarse, scraping, and bloody as he surfaces. Saltwater burning in his lungs, his wounds—the burns beneath his eyes from where his light burned, burned, burned.

He feels so much weaker now—human, again, clutching Frederick as if he is the last shred of this soft approach to humanity. But… he trusts Yerafyn and Maeve (and what a strange realization to make as he swims, one-handed and bleeding to land). He can feel the burns upon his face—tear-tracks blurring down his cheeks—the raw burns. Everything aches in a distant way—he lays Frederick upon the rock, gingerly, hand cupped behind his head.

“Please,” he says, head bowed.

He is no mage, no cleric—the wellspring of his healing is not enough to touch where Frederick has gone.

He hears, again, like he does in his dreams—the call of his family.

All he can see is Frederick’s slack face—the burns along his skin. The chamber pulses with divine energy—he hears wings unfurling before he turns. The divine has always hurt to look at for too long.

“I can help,” the voice rings out echoing and within his skull. The planetar extends a hand, its expression serene—as if it has no clue. “For a price.”

Yerafyn inclines her head, a familiar glimmer in her eye. Frederick’s coin purse has always been the heaviest of the party’s. But—

“I’ll pay it.” Salem’s head snaps up—bleary-eyed, exhausted—and before he can think he is rasping, “Anything.”

Gold has its uses—the most powerful magic in his own life. He has never had so much as he does now. But why wouldn’t he part with it? He would give his own body, the rest of his days—and, oh, what a realization. He looks, wildly, from Frederick to Yerafyn to Maeve as the realization sits heavy in his chest.

What a heavy weight a family is.

(He swore this would never happen again.)

“Name your price.”

The planetar smiles, serene and unaffected, and asks for gold—the easiest price he has ever paid. “This will take some time.”

Salem nods—and time stands still for him, continues to flow for Yerafyn and Maeve. They are the heroes—practical, good-hearted, worried about the state of the raging storm outside. There is still the matter of the world to save, a portal to close, a weapon to retrieve.

The talk muffles—as if he were back in the aboleth’s belly again.

He takes Frederick’s cold hand. The Sword Coast could drown for all he cares. The heroics are for Yerafyn and Maeve to decide—nothing beyond these cavern walls truly matters.

His mind wanders: To the wall of dead, the sound of his family’s voice on the air, the name he forgot, the faces that blur with every passing day, and again and again he watches Frederick be swallowed.

He doesn’t know why he expects it to be gradual—for the warmth to return to Frederick’s body, for him to wake up peacefully. The cough that rocks Frederick is sudden, violent and Salem lurches forward without a thought—wraps his arms around Frederick to pull him close. Safe. Warm. Alive.

If he were a man of words, there are a million things he could say to him. But they are all lost in a wash of relief.

This is enough.

Salem drinks in the sight of Frederick—the winds howl around them, and the rain is a heavy, unrelenting torrent. Frederick looks wretched. Tired and wan, the acid burns not quite healed properly. He had put his hands on Frederick’s shoulders in the Crushing Wave’s lower chambers—poured every last bit of his scant, healing magic he could into his skin. (It wasn’t nearly enough.)

The world could end from this.

Salem has already devoted himself to follow Yerafyn and Maeve. He knows he is meant to help them—dive into the eye of the storm. He trusts them all to take care of themselves—he has seen terrifying power from all of his companions.

He knows Frederick can take care of himself.

But all he can see is Frederick’s lifeless face—he never wants to him like that again.

“Do you want to stay?”

There is no judgement from Yerafyn’s question. She is kind—practical. As is Maeve. Having your soul cleaved back to your body is not a peaceful act. Salem can see the exhaustion—the bags under his eyes, the droop of his shoulders.

This is Frederick’s fight—but it doesn’t have to be.

“You can find my wagon and evacuate,” Maeve pipes up, already standing on tiptoe to point out where it’s hidden.

Salem feels, again, as if time is standing still. He thinks, maybe he should try to kiss Frederick—to make some cheeky promise about how they’ll be back before he knows it. He doesn’t have to worry—they’ve done this before. The words, as they always do, fade when he catches Frederick’s eye.

“Frederick,” Yerafyn’s calm voice breaks the thought Salem has. “Could you cast fly on him?” She holds a hand out, gestures at Salem. “Just in case.”

Frederick nods.

He reaches out a hand, stretching up—Salem watches the motion, rapt, and notices a pause. A moment hesitation, before Frederick places a hand on Salem’s bare shoulder. Frederick’s magic has always been warm—suiting. Despite the situation, the ache in his chest, the wonder if they’re doing the right thing.

They caused this: Frederick’s kidnapping. The Trident.

Salem lowers his eyes. He does not think his heroic companions would appreciate the sentiment that he would let the city drown if it meant they could stay with Frederick. That he would rather stay with him—return to higher ground and rest. Let Frederick rest safely—where Salem can see him.

He stays quiet.

He focuses on the warmth of Frederick’s spell settling over him. The wind howls in his ears. Soon, the rain lashes the warmth from his body.

At least, he thinks as he looks down at Frederick, he’ll be safe.

Frederick pulls back—spell cast.

The right words always feel stuck at the back of his throat.

“Stay safe,” he says.

I think I’ll regret this, Salem thinks. Not saying the right words. Not staying with you.

He watches Frederick, sees the way his face crumples. He wonders if he’s imagining Frederick is holding back tears—if a sick, selfish part of him is hoping for it. Frederick’s face is wet with rain.

“Stay safe,” Frederick echoes, voice thick, “all of you.”

Salem thinks his own face might be wet with tears.

#i'm cringe but i'm FREE #pushing salem and frederick together like they're barbie dolls #(except not really because salem's so repressed)#.writing #oc: salem #i think this is one of the clunkier things i've written #but i have SUCH a soft spot for it #LMAO FORGOT I NAMED SALEM'S FLAIL

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prismaticpichu · 7 months

Text

Pichu writes a Nibelheim fix-it take 5,963

It was a small price to pay for the truth.

Mako-green eyes narrowed darkly against the inky gloom of the library, a dangerous flare to his unearthly irises as he hooked his nails deep into the page beneath them. Curled his hand until it was a fist--until he heard the echoing rip of the paper tearing from the glue, his teeth gnashing, pupils rattling, his breath whetting into a series of sharp, heavy daggers that tore through his throat and lips.

The truth that they had lied.

A low sound--a snarl--and the paper was torn clean off. It didn't matter; why would it matter? Oh, humorous that he thought it would matter. The next page would tell of the same exact things. They were all the same, each and every one of these tomes. They all told of the same truths; they all pooled into the same realizations.

He had been nothing but a tool. A weapon. From the day he took his first breaths he had belonged to another--fettered to the will of ShinRa, made to do their bidding like a mindless lapdog. He had been nothing but an experiment--oh, yes... a little animal that they controlled as they pleased, altered as they saw fit. The foundation of his world--his birth, his creation... --all unwound by the hands of these records. A lie. All a lie. It was a lie. Lies lies lies lies lies.

The small flames of the candles danced, almost quivering.

So very funny... oh so humorous... how he believed that he was human. That with everything that made him so different, that he shared blood with those... those creatures. Insects. Yes... yes insects. Worthless bugs. Excavated, implanted, created... Traitors. That's all they ever were. Every one of them. Gast... how could you? Traitors. Vile, pathetic creatures. I trusted you... It was funny. Oh, oh it was so funny... He could laugh. He could keel over laughing. Why...? He was so humored. So very humored. Why me...?

He was so...

So...

The candles quivered.

So...

Quivering.

So...

So..

Angry.

Sephiroth paused, momentarily, before digesting the word that seemed to creep into in his mind. That sank into his skull, seeped between the threads of his emotions like sludge.

Anger... The man's eyes narrowed further, breath honing. That's what he had been suppressing all this time. I just... wanted to be normal. All these years... Why fight it any longer? Why me...? Why hold back? What did they deserve--his mercy? What did they ever deserve...?

Unleash it.

The green eyes narrowed to daggers. Yes... he could. He could let it all out. Show them what they have done. What he is capable of. Make them pay...--

Suffer.

Make them suffer for what they did to him... to his Mother. Oh yes... his mother. Beautiful Jenova--the heart of all these documents--the name that had lingered with him since birth. I always thought... Where was she? Gast... why? The Reactor... oh yes. She was there. She was waiting. I just... She could give him everything--the life he deserved.

The candles danced.

The life he deserved... The life they deserved.

Lies lies lies lies

Everything.

She could give him everything...

Lies lies lies

She could give him...

The candles flickered.

His TRUTH--

Knock, knock, knock.

The world halted when strong knuckles rapped on the door.

Sephiroth blinked, stiffening, glancing up from the page-torn book to regard the closed door at the end of room. It was strange, really. how his mind seemed lighter, just for a breath... before reality seeped back into his senses. He narrowed his eyes again, lips pulled back into a snarl.

There was only one person who dared to come down here.

"I told you to leave me be."

There was silence--a long, heavy stretch. His warning had been heard. Had he been expecting a protest...? No--no of course not. He had wanted to be alone. He wanted to be alone.

Glaring, Sephiroth glanced back do--

Knock, knock, knock.

And this time, a voice followed.

"S… eph…?”

#sephiroth #ffvii #crisis core #ff7 #ff7 rebirth #zack fair #we’re gonna scare the shit out of this man that’s the plan!#ff7 fanfic #delving into a bit of horror this time! going to escalate much further dhdhhddhhdhdhdh #nibelheim incident #pichu writing #final fantasy vii #snippet #wip

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unforgivenn · 4 months

Text

The Endless Nightmare - 2

Masterlist/ Previous

Caleb awoke to the sound of dripping water, each drop echoing in the hollow space of the room. His body ached with a dull and throbbing pain, the fever leaving him weak and disoriented. He felt the coldness of the floor seeping into his bones, making him shiver when he felt cool air. His eyes flickered open, adjusting to the dim light that barely illuminated the confines of his prison.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of the water. Caleb forced himself to sit up, every movement a struggle against the exhaustion that threatened to pull him back into unconsciousness. His throat was parched, the mere thought of water sending a desperate longing through his mind.

He looked down to see a blanket draped on him. Atleast he has a small part of humanity. He thought bitterly.

As he tried to steady his breathing, he heard footsteps approaching. The familiar sound sent a shiver down his spine, a sickening anticipation tightening his chest. Dominic. Caleb's heart raced, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum of impending doom. Please. Please don't hurt me..

The door creaked open, and Dominic stepped into the room, his shadow stretching long and menacing against the wall. He carried a tray with a small bowl of water and a piece of stale bread. Caleb's eyes locked onto the water, his body screaming for relief.

"Good morning, kitten," Dominic said, his voice dripping with false cheer. He set the tray down in front of Caleb, the clang of the metal tray on the stone floor echoing in the silence. "Hungry?"

Caleb didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the water. Dominic's gaze followed his, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Thirsty, are we?" he asked, picking up the bottle and holding it just out of Caleb's reach. "You'll have to earn it."

Desperation gnawed at Caleb's insides. He tried to move closer, but Dominic's foot shot out, kicking him back. Caleb fell, his head striking the floor with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind his eyes, the pain radiating through his skull.

"Not so fast," Dominic chided, crouching down to Caleb's level. "You know the rules."

Caleb's vision blurred with tears, the throbbing in his head making it hard to focus. He forced himself to sit up again, swallowing hard against the nausea that threatened to overtake him. "P-Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Just a sip."

Dominic's smile widened, a predator savoring the helplessness of his prey. "Begging already? How pathetic. I think I like you better when you're like this."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Caleb's ear. "Isn't it soo much better than having you swearing and acting like an ungrateful brat every day. Now look at you. Completely dependant on me for survival"

It was more like he didn't have the energy nor the courage to be defiant right now. He just wanted to sleep and spend his day peacefully for once. Caleb's hands trembled as he reached for the bowl, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. Dominic pulled it away, a chuckle escaping his lips making Caleb groan slightly. "Not yet, kitten. Not yet."

He set the bowl down on the tray and stood up, his eyes never leaving Caleb's. "You have to prove yourself first."

Caleb's mind raced, trying to grasp at any shred of sanity left. What did Dominic want? What the fuck did he want?? He knew there was no winning this game, no way to satisfy Dominic's twisted desires. But the need for water, for any relief from the torment, was too strong to ignore.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Dominic's eyes gleamed with a sadistic glee. "Crawl to me," he commanded. "Show me how much you want it."

Humiliation burned through Caleb, a blush creeping up on his face. When he didn't move from his place Dominic hummed.

"Guess this water's gonna stay with me then."

Caleb licked his dry lips, trying to feel at least some liquid on them. Slowly, painfully, he crawled towards Dominic, each movement a reminder of his own fragility. He reached Dominic's feet, his body trembling with effort.

"Good boy," Dominic murmured, reaching down to stroke Caleb's hair. The touch was agonizing to say the least but the urge to pull away from his touch was more. "Now drink."

He handed Caleb the bottle, and Caleb's hands shook as he brought it to his lips, the cool water sliding down his throat like a lifeline. He drank greedily, every drop a brief reprieve from the hell he was in.

But as he finished, Dominic yanked the bottle away, spilling the remaining water onto the floor. Caleb let out a small cry of discomfort at this. "That's enough for now," he said, his voice cold. "You don't want to get too comfortable, do you?"

Caleb's heart sank, the fleeting comfort ripped away as quickly as it had come. He watched the water pool on the floor, feeling more broken than ever.

"I was thinking of having some fun today but I guess you aren't any better. And it's no fun having you only half aware for it." Dominic's voice suddenly changed to a fake innocence. Bipolar bitch. Caleb and Dominic almost held a staring contest before Dominic sighed.

"I'll get you some medicines then."

As the door closed behind him, the darkness enveloped Caleb once more. He slumped to the floor, his body wracked with silent sobs. The fight was slipping out of him, hope dwindling with each passing moment. How much more could he endure? How much more could he lose before he was nothing but a hollow shell?

The answer, he feared, was more than he could ever imagine.

Taglist: @anutz1234 @miireux134 @nuriiz134 @noeul-whumpppss @ash-reh

@someoneoninternettt @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @animesfortoday @noeul-whumpppssssss1234 (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

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manawari · 1 year

Text

Paragon of Protection

Resurrection.

He was dead. He knew he had died.

Those sharp claws that had pierced through his body, the tremendous splash of dread that had become the last emotion he had ever felt, and the dangerous presence that stood behind him. . . It was death in his doorstep.

But instead of the afterlife, he woke up with a gasp. He was laying on a bed inside of a room. Books stacked in his desk, picture frames clinging to the walls, a trash can with a crumpled piece of paper next to it, and a calendar that presented today's date. It was his room.

Byung-gyu quickly shuffled out of the mattress and raced to his desk, almost tripping in the process, and reached for his phone that he had left before going to the raid. He turned it on and saw the time: 10:35 AM. Looking down at the date, it was August 27.

His eyes stretched in aghast. He turned up to the calendar where he had encircled the day of the Jeju Island raid. How is this even possible? He thought.

His hand reached up to the spot in his chest where his life was taken away. He clenched his shirt in his fist. Byung-gyu doubted that it was only a dream, especially when—

"Gah!" A crushing agony erupted in his brain. His cellphone tumbled to his feet. Byung-gyu was forced to squeeze his eyes shut at the sensation of his skull being bombarded with various explosions.

He started to feel dizzy.

. . . Protect the Shadow Monarch!

—please tell him that he must be careful!

. . . You are the closest human we entrust with this mission.

—he must be careful of the powers that lie within him!

This is not your end.

The Monarchs have begun their plans. It is your duty to be his guide.

His safety is in your hands, Min Byung-gyu!

Byung-gyu opened his eyes again. This time, he was on the floor. He pushed himself up with his elbows, his heart pounding behind his ribcage. A bead of sweat dripped from his chin. The S-Rank ran his fingers through his slightly drenched hair and registered the voices that had echoed in his head.

He was certain that some of the voices were his. And the rest. . . It was reverberating and difficult to discern. But as everything began to dawn on him, Byung-gyu saw a few things — one of which he spotted himself reaching out to Cha Hae-in's wrist and the others were him being surrounded by gigantic beings clad in white and gold armors and wide pairs of wings.

Protect the Shadow Monarch. They were referring to Sung Jin-woo, a hunter whom he had heard of rising to the highest rank of hunters. He also remembered that he was supposed to be part of the raid.

Byung-gyu was brought back to life with a mission to be Sung Jin-woo's guide.

Shaking his head, Byung-gyu got up and moved to his desk. There was a handwritten letter. Realization kicked in, noticing it was a letter he had written for his grandmother in case he hadn't gotten to come back. It appeared his place wasn't cleared up yet. But Byung-gyu knew it was only a matter of time before someone would enter and clean everything as the apartment's owner was no longer alive.

So, Byung-gyu left the letter and pulled the each of the drawers to rummage through its contents until he found a notebook. He took a pen and clicked it to start scribbling on the paper.

He spent the next few hours jotting everything in his mind down. As time passed, Byung-gyu discovered a few things such as being able to summon his spell book out of thin air. He found abilities he had never heard of before, as well as his own powers.

Invincibility. Teleportation. Elevated healing. Precognition. . . Those were the new powers he had gained in this second life of his.

Once he was done, Byung-gyu made his way to his wardrobe to grab a jacket to store the small notebook in the inside. He must now move to his next step: visit the Shadow Monarch. And by this, Sung Jin-woo would be the first person to discover that he was alive.

Not Yoon-ho. Byung-gyu's heart ached for his friend, the last person he saw before dying.

But there was no time to think about that—

*click*

"So this is the bedroom."

Flinching, Byung-gyu quickly turned himself invincible.

Three men walked into his room, clad in black uniforms and rubber gloves. They began to pick up his belongings to put them on the large plastic bags. Byung-gyu walked past them and headed to the exit.

It was fortunate that he managed to finish his writing before the team came.

He hoped that they would bring the letter to his grandma. She must've known that her only grandson was dead. Byung-gyu's bottom lip quivered at the thought of the old woman, the only family member he had left.

I'm sorry.

Byung-gyu found himself roaming the streets of Seoul. Nobody had felt his presence, not even the hunters. He became a ghost. But, who was he kidding? He was technically dead after all.

He wondered if this was what a ghost felt like. . . To be in a world where not a single person could see him. Well, there was a certain hunter that he would meet, but to hide himself from the world as he was presumed death felt like it.

With his things in his apartment being collected, Min Byung-gyu no longer had a home.

Once he found a building that belonged to the Ahjin Guild, led by Sung Jin-woo, Byung-gyu stood in the entrance and decided to use his teleportation power. A light engulfed him and the next thing he knew, he was in a hallway. Silence drifted to the ceiling and before he could make another move, he heard a voice.

"I'm heading off! Is there anything you'd like, hyung-nim?"

Byung-gyu looked behind him.

"A soda? Got it!"

A young man with curly brown hair walked toward him. Byung-gyu watched as he went through his invincible form. An odd feeling grew at the encounter. The S-Rank healer shook his head and headed to the door the guy had come from.

Now, he stood in front of the door. He reverted to his original form and reached his hand up to knock. There wasn't even less than a minute until the door was opened by the hunter he was looking for.

"Ye—" Jin-woo paused. He stared at his visitor. "Uh, do I know you?"

Byung-gyu pulled his hood down. "Hunter Sung."

At first, Jin-woo was silent. Byung-gyu thought about introducing himself, though he decided to let Jin-woo realize it himself due to the fact that he once summoned him as a shadow before. But after a while of not hearing a word, Byung-gyu let out a sigh;

"I'm—"

"Min Byung-gyu?" Jin-woo finally said.

The corner Byung-gyu's mouth twitched. "It's a pleasure to meet you once again."

The hunter's eyes stretched broad. Jin-woo raised his hand from the doorknob and took a step back in shock.

"Wait. . . How did— you were dead!" Jin-woo exclaimed. "You were buried in the hunters' cemetery!"

Byung-gyu sighed. "First things first, can I come in? In that way, I'll explain everything better."

Jin-woo reluctantly agreed and allowed him to enter the office then led the healer to the couch where they both sat down. Byung-gyu fidgeted on his hands while Jin-woo waited for him to speak, though it was more like he was way too shocked to utter something.

"I was brought back to life by these 'Rulers'," began Byung-gyu. "I presume you are aware of those beings already. And, before I woke up, I saw myself surrounded by them and they told me a few things, including the mission of protecting you."

"Mission? Protecting? What else is going on?"

"The Monarchs are planning to invade the earth in the future. The Rulers said that you must be careful of your powers since you are not that omnipotent to face them at once. And be careful of your powers too."

"Huh. Hunter Cha also said something similar to me last time." Jin-woo said.

Byung-gyu let out a chuckle. "That's because I gave her a message when I visited her in a dream."

The hunter looked at him in surprise again.

"Those are the things that I shall tell you for now. Oh, and—" Byung-gyu met Jin-woo's eyes with his. "Please don't tell anyone that I am alive. I can turn myself invincible if I'm in the public, but revealing myself to everyone else other than you? No."

Jin-woo frowned. "What about the hunters?"

"It's fine. They deserve to move on anyway." Byung-gyu smiled. "But what's more important here is that I have a mission and your safety as the Shadow Monarch."

"You know about that too?!"

"I know a lot of things before coming back alive, Hunter Sung," Byung-gyu grinned and got up. "I should get going before your friend comes back. It was nice meeting you officially."

"Wait!" Jin-woo halted him. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Byung-gyu shook his head. "Not anymore, but— I'll figure something out."

"Okay." Jin-woo nodded his head. Byung-gyu was about to continue his leave when his instincts told him to stay for a little longer, because judging the look in the hunter's eyes, he could tell there must be something else Jin-woo would want to say.

I guess he's the type that doesn't speak his mind out a lot.

After a moment of pursing his lips as though debating with himself, Jin-woo finally opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, Healer Min Byung-gyu."

"Eh?" Byung-gyu raised an eyebrow. "What are you sorry for?"

"For not being able to save you in the island." Jin-woo muttered. "I— I thought that you guys could handle it. But I was wrong. If I had accepted the offer to join, you could've been still alive by now and not have to hide from the ones you care about."

So that was what he was sorry for. Byung-gyu never thought that Jin-woo was offered to join the raid, but whatever reason he had, he understood it. If anything, Byung-gyu didn't want to participate in that raid either, but he forced himself to because the hunters didn't have a stronger healer.

"I understand. I might even do the same if I was in your shoes and I wasn't the only S-Rank healer." Byung-gyu flashed him a smile. "Yeah, it kinda hurts that I have to stay away, but it's for the best. And I do hope you won't stay in regret for too long since I'm back to life now."

Jin-woo nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hunter Sung." Byung-gyu patted his shoulder and headed to the exit.

Jin-woo. . . He looked like he was still sad. Regretting his actions. But Byung-gyu didn't blame him anyway, so it would only be a matter of time until Jin-woo could forgive himself, especially when he had to be emotionally strong for the next upcoming days too.

Byung-gyu swore he would be there for Jin-woo and live up to his mission as a gratitude to the Rulers for giving him a second chance in life. He promised himself that he would do better at protecting people this time.

#a possible series of one-shots of this au maybe?#solo leveling #min byung gyu #solo leveling au: paragon of protection #solo leveling au: ruler and monarch successors

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awwthenticc · 5 months

Text

SO. UM. HERES SOME WRITING WIP I NEVER FINISHED BECAUSE MISS HOLLOWAY AND WILBUR CROSS ARE ON MY MIND AND I WROTE THIS LIKE. A MONTH AGO??

so it's... It's (tries to explain the idea behind this) post-killer track. Miss Holloway is now in her guidance councilor era. So. "Miss Holiday"

I think I was going to make Hollowduke be happy but never got to writing it.

And wilbur basically messes with her. He pokes her around in her own dreams or whatever. IT WAS HONESTLY AN EXCUSE TO DESCRIBE HIM. I WANTED TO WRITE HIM. THATS HONESTLY THE REASON.

(Italics didnt save but i honestly don't care :/)

“Miss Holiday? – Oh, Miss Holloway, you could do so much better than that~...”

A voice in Miss Holloway’s mind chided her. Voice distant, echoing all around her, reaching the far corners of her mind, yet, it slowly became one, layers overlaying to become a singular voice. Eyes looking down – Miss Holloway would have stood in front of a pile of bones–a recognizable blade buried between the hollow rib cage that was decorated with cobwebs, spiders skittering around.

–

A sight which seemed to appear out of nowhere while she was busy glancing around the mindscape she was in. It was dark, the floor almost wet, yet if anyone looked close enough, it would become clear that they were in Miss Retro’s diner. A more cryptid, abandoned version of it. Resemblant of one leaving a place behind for another profession. Which only made sense for owning a place with so many smiling faces. And with that, memorable faces that came with more.. Upsetting personalities.

The bones would have bugun to shift around, a force bringing them together, reconstructing with a musical tone– like playing a xylophone. Clitter, Clatter. Click. Clack. It built itself up.

With joints popping into place. Cartilage. Followed with muscle, appearing from nothing, with a glow of bright green that appeared by his feet, Muscle, skin, twisting, wrapping up the foundation of a body, starting from the bottom of the skeleton, and going up. Same with the glow. As it all came together - layer after layer, the glow grew. Cracking, sculpting, stretching, contorting. It groaned, something from the back of its throat, broken vocal cords deconstructed coming together, fixing itself. Moaning out a weak tone as the thing, just a heap of bones just before, became something necromanced, brought to life. Features appearing one after the other. The denim wardrobe. The straight stance that built itself up after leaning forward lazily. The silver dog tag. The slicked back, pitch black hair that ran down the figure's neck – A neck which supported a head that was leaned back, before reeling forward, bobbing.

It was unstable, trying to hold itself up. Before it opened its eyes, lifeless, an endless space of white before it the color of the gaze rolled from the back of its skull. Bright green. Bony fingers popping as it cracked its knuckles before fixing its dog tag, slipping it under its shirt just after wiggling them once or twice. It smiled.. He smiled. Teeth decomposed, rotten, black.

And with a quick graise of his tongue, his teeth whitened. And he almost looked human. It wasn't a surprise that his teeth were far from perfect. But his sly grin – with sharp canines, and teeth that didn’t look like they hadn’t been brushed every day – would look better than it would before.

Though his smile dropped just as those green eyes glanced down. Though it only dropped just a little. Remembrance flashing over his look as he would let out a shallow, almost dark chuckle. Amusement… Miss Holloway assumed.

The necromanced man slid a hand up from the resting spot by his sides, trailing up to the black blade that had resided in his reformed appearance. Walking his fingers up towards the handle, and wrapping them around right after. Clutching it with a quiet focus. Trained on it. Taking a moment before..

A faint groan left the mouth of the man as his brows furrowed, the focused look faltering for a second with lids that flickered shut once or twice. The audible slick sound that came from the cavity in which the wound existed. Where the blade resided. Slowly pulling it out, as the skin around it seemed to hold it tight. Keep it in place like it belonged. Healing over with every tug to simply prevent the man from falling apart, resulting in the agonizing sound of wet flesh and muscle as he tore. Squishing, squelching.

Going on. Just before the green eyed disciple decided to leave this waiting game, and he got it over with. Using both hands he clenched the blade before ripping it out of its place. Earning an exhale, eyes closing for just a moment before opening them once again. Examining the blade.. Skin healing, coming back together as if the hole in his chest never existed.

Black blood dripped from the tip, falling to the floor below.. Along with dripping down to the handle, dribbling onto his closed fist..

He dropped it, hitting the wet tile with a hollow clang. Echoing throughout the space they were both in before he kicked it away with one foot.

–

“..I would’ve chosen a different name personally.” He kept his eyes on where his foot kicked the blade before looking at himself to fix his shirt, fix his look, trailing off before knowing when to carry on. Just forgetting what he had just done, acting like it was everything normal. Because it was normal.. He’s pulled himself together more times than he could count by now…

“Why… they’re both so close to being the same, it just might as well make both of your little “characters” carbon copies….. Or, out of all things.. sisters. ”

Wilbur Cross’s eyes landed on her. Movements of his glance not choppy and quick, flicking around like a frantic piece of prey - no, his eyes rolled, like a marble of sorts, held and set in some place in his skull, existing in his eye sockets, yet it wouldn’t define where his gaze would land. How physics worked.. Because he could still have his head tilted down, and his eyes would be able to still roll into the back of his skull- round about the other way, and come back up from the bottom..

He grinned. “But we both know that's highly unlikely… don't we? Cause, tell me, when was the last time you’ve seen a pair of twins walk their way around here Miss Hollowa–”

“What do you want?” The Red headed woman cut him off from finishing his question. Her words are less of a question, and more of a statement. Impatient to hear his mindless talk, and wanting him to get to the point.

And he would frown at her, almost pouting. “Not even letting me finish what I was gonna say?” Though his frowny face would be more playful than anything… Tragically though to his own amusement, Miss Holloway was not bouncing this energy back.

She just looked at him. Then let out the smallest huff. “Not when I don’t have time for you. Insulting what I do isn’t going too–” He cut her off. Drawling with a southern voice.

“Wellllll, I wouldn’t say insulting…. Critiquing would be a better word.” Commenting, stopping her from saying what she had to say… Fixing a loose hair that freed itself from behind his ear. But his green eyes would once again land on her before he blinked with an “OH! Sorry, did I cut you off?.....”

He asked. Though it would be obvious that any ounce of care in his question would be disregarded for simple fun.. Shown by the smile that he did NOT try to hide. In other words, he was messing with her.

She stared back. Unamused. “What do you want.” Miss Holloway repeated. “Are you just here to… comment on how I’m living my life? To just talk.. Again?”

Again.

To Miss Holloway, it wouldn’t be a surprise that Wilbur would be speaking to her in her own mental mindscape. She blamed it on having things on her mind. Recently, she had been thinking about plenty of things that didn’t fully matter.

#miss holloway #wilbur cross #creative writing #hatchetfield #starkid #writing wips

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 2 years

Text

RECOMe again?

The reader must navigate interacting with their fellow recoms despite having betrayed them as a human! Does anyone know their secret?

Chapter 1, 2 ,3, 4, 5

Notes: Y/N (Your name), Y/LN (Your last name), na'vi dialogue in bold, fic will contain swearing, violence,

If there are any specific triggers people would like warned for let me know (^・ω・^ )

Tag list: @buzzing-honeybee @lazyassmermaid @secretflowerobservation @hihhasotherfixations @perseny @ratchetprime211 @symptoms-of-moonlight @totesnothere04 @bxnnywriting @itsyoboysparkel

Chapter 6

Everything was Miles right now. His scent burned in your lungs with every breath, his touch still firmly against you as he pulled you tighter to his chest. Every connected inch of skin buzzing with electricity. If you opened your eyes all you could see in the gloom was his broad blue chest. You did, tracing the constellations on his skin with your eyes. You didn't dare move for fear of breaking this perfect moment.

Still you had to get up, there was a cave around you, a team and kid lost and a horrid guilt rising to your throat. You sat up, his arm reaching for your form before falling. He grumbled but didn't wake. The guilty feeling continued to eat away at you. It should all be over so soon, just escape with Spider. You could do them a last kindness and get them free of this cave, then leave their lives for good.

This cavern seemed to split off, tens of tunnels connecting to it. The center of the web came to mind but you shook the thought away. No use dwelling in your past fears when new ones awaited. Each route never quite smelled as fresh as the room you stood in. Maybe the spirit roots had something to do with that, cleansing the musty air. It gave no clue for a possible exit though.

A feather light touch brushed against your shoulder, you swiveled. An Atokirina, a seed of the tree of souls! There were so many now, floating in from a tunnel on the other side of the cavern. You followed back to the alter area where they swirled in the air. Settling on the stone, on Miles sleeping form and now on you.

The roots hung lower here, you reached up to touch one. It felt alive under your fingers, buzzing slightly with an energy you didn't understand.You felt down your queue, your hands reacting moving on their own. You brushed the braid up, tendrils unspooling and latching onto the root.

Your mind flooded. Images of na'vi people, living whole lives before your eyes. Singing, talking, their voices echoing in you skull, it was overwhelming. Their emotions crossing past you as if they were your own, grief for dead you never knew, joy of births and unions. The very room you were in alive with night blue skinned na'vi, celebrating, lovers alone taking communion in front of their Eywa bodies bare on the smooth stone.

Then there she was, all around you. Fizzing through your blood, a strong force vibrating through your bones. Grace spoke of her, a voice tinged with a skepticism. You could feel Eywa in your being, scrutinizing? Searching through your soul until she stilled.

Then there she was. Grace before you, as real as Miles' still sleeping form. She wore no mask, her face unaged in the 15 odd years since the last time you'd seen her. She smiled, her face haloed in orange curls.

"How..." You began, her smile spreading wider as she came closer to you. Hands out stretched and your own rising to meet hers. She was surprisingly solid, not some ghost or hallucination though her form shimmered in a pinkish glow.

"Could ask you the same, look at you! Look at him!" She laughed face swimming with mischief as she looked down at a blue Quaritch.

"Karma really has a funny way of doing things. Became the very thing he hated! Worth me getting killed for!" She laughed. Your face blanched. You'd not considered it fully, how she could be here. She was dead, Grace hadn't made it out. She saw this on your face now or maybe felt it through Eywa. Glimpsing Mo'at above you singing your way through the roots to her, Grace's memory.

"Oh child, its done now. Your getting out of here and helping that kid, the rest is what it will always be." She came closer again, reaching up to hold you arm, her touch felt real and warm. You felt her calm, her acceptance as your own, even as you fought to hold a rage storming inside.

"How could he!" You sobbed, unable to hold back tears. Anger was too far but sadness was closer. The connection flooded you with hundreds of lives lost to RDA. You wailed, the force of it all too much. Dropping to your knees, Grace's body seemed to disperse, Miles' form crowding into your vision now.

Panicked hands gripped your shoulders, calling out to you. His hand traced up, removing your queue from the root. The seeds dispersed from around you both, trailing back to the tunnel slowly.

"Y/n...y/n you hear me?" He snapped fingers infront of your dazed expression. You felt so suddenly weak, your mind felt exhausted, drained beyond anything you'd ever experienced. Grace's words echoed, you had to get them out. You had to get Spider out of here.

"The seeds... Spider's with them... we've gotta" Your hand limply pointed as their glow slipped into the tunnels opening, getting lost in the gloom.

"Wait your not okay we gotta wait a minute!" His hand gripped your chin tilting your face to his, brows furrowed as he scanned your face. Roughly you pushed off, standing on shaking legs and staggering towards the exit. Blood beginning to boiling, he killed Grace. His arm snaked around your middle again, you were poised to scream at him but his face was forward. He was taking some weight off you and helping you towards your goal.

"Spider first, then we talk." His palm flat against your side as you shuffled after the Atokirina. You felt your anger lessen to a simmer as you went. Tufts of the woodsprites settling on his head and shoulders as you marched on. Eywa's will, she must want Spider back with her, with Jake. You were her vessel to do this and Quaritch was too, however unwilling.

You remembered the stories about the seeds. Pure spirits, signs of Eywa and her influence. Jake told you about his encounter with them, the way they'd landed all over him. You wished you'd known a Tsahìk, like Mo'at, you wanted to know for sure what it all meant.

The burning pain in you ankle seemed to lessen as you went. The injury minor enough that the brief 'rest' seemed to have eased it greatly. You took the chance to untangled yourself from Miles. His hand lingered on your arm until you heard commotion ahead.

Instantly he was in front, gun drawn and pacing low. The tunnel opened out to a cliff edge, bellow inky black running water rushed as far as you could see. The glowing seeds drifted down to the water, the only light in the darkness around you. Across the gap you saw another opening, further down from yours. The same seeds flowed out and again down to the water bellow.

You heard screams now, the whole rest of the team came barreling through the opening and tumbling straight down into the water bellow. Spider tucked under Lyle's arm as he fell.

"SPIDER!" You shrieked diving down after him. You heard Miles call your own name before you broke the surface. The current was fast pulling the team quickly away. Lyle struggled against it shouting back to you. His head kept dipping down, water garbling his speech. He held Spider up above the surface.

"Lyle he has an air mask! Please try to stay above surface!" You called to him, watching the realization cross his face. He kept a hold of Spider as you swam towards them. Ahead you could see Zdinarsk and Mansk gripping onto one another. You dived low trying to spot Prager. He tumbled around bellow the surface, unable to get a baring. His skin scraping against jagged rocks, one smacking right onto his head.

You pushed towards him, catching up with the aid of the current. He knocked and bumped against you as you tried to grab at him. You hooked hands under his arm pits and kicked off the surface bellow. Breaching the surface you gulped for air before being pushed down again. Prager's panicked flailing was knocking you down as he tried to remain surfaced. You tried to swim up but he kept pushing, desperate to breathe himself, mind lost in confusion.

He was ripped from you suddenly, your body plastered against a firm chest as you both broke the surface. Prager sputtered but managed to keep his head up in front of you. Your head turned to Miles, who looked furious. You couldn't tell who he seemed angrier at in that moment. Prager for almost drowning you or you for jumping off a cliff.

There was no time to get a lecture though. A horrible gurgling caught everyone's attention.

"SHHHHIIIITTT!" Zdinarsk screamed as the group was sucked closer to what for all intents and purposes looked like a drain. The seeds were being sucked down into it, lighting a tunnel below the surface. You gulped a deep breath in and braced as it sucked you all in.

Miles' arms were around you, holding close to his chest as water rushed past your ears. You couldn't open your eyes from the burn so kept them screwed shut as the current sucked you to your destination.

The seeds had lead you all here, surly it was safe enough? That you'd be able to hold breath long enough to reach its end. Unless it was meant to kill you all? Spider had an air mask, he'd survive a long journey. Your lungs burned, desperate to breathe, to suck in the water around you. Did Eywa intend that? Was this her plan to save Spider, to kill you all in the depths of her stomach.

The underwater river spat you all out. Flying up into air for a moment before crashing into far warmer water. Miles thrust you above the surface. You took gasping breathes of fresh salty air. The sun beamed down, brighter than anything you'd seen in days now. You blinked in the blur, Miles' arm wrapped around your torso as he swam towards land.

You could see it more clearly now. White sand, deep blue waves, cloudless sky, it looked like a postcard. The beautiful beach was curved like a crescent moon. Turquoise waters stretched out into the horizon. Ocean smoothed rocks and thick forest surrounded the expanse of sand.

You shrieked a laugh, a hysterical sound that conveyed the joy, relief and horror of they days past in one noise. It startled the group but you couldn't find it in you to care what they thought of you in that moment. You were free of the cave and closer to freeing Spider.

Miles' hands stayed on you, moving up to your shoulders as you waded onto the beach. You still felt so drained, you didn't have the strength to shrug him off. You weren't even sure you wanted to.

Lyle and the others waded in, collapsing on the warm sand. It seemed a good idea, your knees buckled. Miles caught your intent, lowering you slowly to the ground as he stayed standing. Eyes searching the area.

Spider crawled to your side, flopping down on top on your outstretched arm. He didn't speak but his eyes sparkled and his toothy grin said it all. He'd felt her too. He'd been lead from danger by her. Now all you had to do was finish the job.

..............................................................................................................................

Quaritch hadn't spoken to you yet. You'd felt so drained that you fell asleep right there in the sand. When you stirred Spider was up and helping prepare a place to camp out for the night. A blanket had been draped over your sleeping form. You honestly couldn't say who'd done it or if your blue skin would have even burned anyway. Spider would know you thought to yourself, watching him across the beach. Quaritch was with him, showing him proper knot tying. They laughed together a moment and you couldn't help but smile at them.

"Daww look at the happy family!" Lyle spoke in a goofy baby voice, cooing at them. You shifted up to sit, slapping his leg lightly. He laughed flopping down to join you.

"Can't believe you finally did it." You turned to him frowning, his own eyes stayed locked ahead. A lazy smile across his lips, the one that made little dimples form on his cheeks. You rocked to bump him again.

"Just sayin' I owe Zdinarsk big time! She was always in your corner, even back when we weren't so blue!" You flushed, realizing his meaning. Of course they'd all know. The quick soak hadn't rid you of his scent, nor him of yours. You steeled yourself not wanting to look so embarrassed by it.

"Jealous?" You smirked at him, sticking your tongue out. Lyle clutched his chest, flopping back into the sand dramatically.

"Oh my poor heart! I cannot take it! Y/n! In the arms of another!" He overacted, flinging a hand to his forehead. You barked a laugh, catching Zdog smiling over at you as you did. Mansk waved at you from her side. Their fighting long over it would seem. Lyle sat back up again wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you in for a quick hug.

"Hey you've never been the one person kinda folk. I'm happy with this the way it is." He smiled softly. You smiled back, though you're sure it wouldn't reach your eyes.

It was all going to be over soon. You didn't want it to be but what could you do at this point? Free Spider and stay? Could you keep up that lie? Even if you could 'kill Jake' were still your orders and you couldn't help them. Your team was gonna hate you, probably gonna get orders to kill you too but you had to leave. Leave a life you'd always wanted with them. One last night then you'd sneak off on your watch.

Mansk called you both over, pulling you out your head. You didn't miss the way Lyle's eyes stayed on you. He knew something was eating at you but he wouldn't pry, he never did. The others set up a big bonfire and prepared the provisions on it. Spider boasted of his hunting abilities but Quartich hadn't taken him up on his offer of fresh meat.

You sat together in the warm glow, the suns heat leaving the air around the fire cool. The horizon was cast in purples, pinks and oranges. The tiny constellations appearing in the sky and on the skin of your once friends as they spoke.

Moods were high. Lively chatter and stories being shared. Spider was more comfortable with the others than he'd ever seemed. Maybe a dangerous adventure without you or Quaritch had bonded them better. You hoped he wouldn't miss them.

Quaritch joined you as you took in the sight. His thigh pressing against your own, he sighed deeply. For a moment you thought he might not say anything. That you could enjoy the simple moment with him but he turned to you.

"So what happened back there, huh?" His eyes glinted in the firelight, locked on yours. There was little point in lies now, in a matter of hours you'd be gone. He deserved some truth at least.

"I saw her." Your voice still came out strained. Some last instinct clinging onto secrecy.

"Who? Their God?" Quaritch's brow furrowed, lip curling slightly at the idea.

"No." His face softened. "Grace." His face slackened. A colder expression, some sting of emotion on the wind. You knew him too well, he wouldn't regret killing her but maybe he regretted you finding out. He'd known before you were close, you worked with her so often and never really hid your fondness for her.

"I don't understand it. Not really. But she was there, in the roots somehow and it was real." He stayed silent as you spoke. You couldn't even summon the anger from before, you felt a numbness overcome you now. Like the end of a really wild drinking session, when everyone was gone and you were alone in the still cool night. Nothing but the buzz in your ears and your swimming mind.

"I...I can't forgive you... for her but I care about you all. I think I love you." You couldn't stop the words from coming out but you held the tears that wished to follow. His own eyes betrayed a moment of shock, his tail shooting up but he recovered quickly. Leaning forward he placed a gentle kiss against your lips. It was quick, sweet, his own answer he couldn't voice.

"Your gonna be okay, we're all here with you." His hand found your shoulder, gently rubbing it. He was trying to comfort you, to assure you. You knew he could tell there was more, that there was something else bubbling bellow the surface. He was making space for you to come to him, when you were ready to talk. To know that any of the others would listen. He couldn't know how it cut daggers through your heart to hear that now.

Zdinarsk flopped down to your side resting a heavy head on your shoulders, Mansk followed laying his head on her lap. Lyle and Prager stopped whatever game they'd been playing and joined you all. He sat between your legs, head resting on your thigh, Prager laying across his legs. Even Spider had appeared, leaning on Quaritch's other side. A big pile of the people you loved most.

In another life this would have been perfect, even in this one you tried to allow the joy, the feeling of safety and belonging to wash over you. To enjoy this moment while it lasted but you couldn't. Your unease burned so heavily in the air that your sure that even Spider could have smelt it. Still you all stayed like that, others whispered stories filling the air until folk started to nod off.

You didn't sleep. On the third change you took the watch. The night was cold and filled with life from the forest. The ocean waves crashed against the shore, providing cover. Once Prager's breath had stilled into the gentle rhythm of sleep, you nudged Spider awake.

You'd removed your shoes and abandoned anything traceable in the sand. You shifted slowly over to Spider and held a hand over his mouth. He woke with a start but Quaritch stayed sleeping by his side. Without a sound you lead him off into the trees. The mass of sleeping forms not stirring. Once you were satisfied they wouldn't hear you slipped the second mask out.

Spider knew what you were doing immediately, eyes widening but he said nothing. You helped remove the first mask, slipping the second one into place. It hissed as it sealed, you nodded to him before leading on further into the forest, tossing the first mask into the bushes.

"Are we really going?" He finally spoke up. You nodded, not trusting you voice just yet. You had to stay strong, keep moving.

"Where do I take you? Where would Jake and Neytiri go if they couldn't stay with the tribe?" You kept walking ahead of him, he may see the uncertainty you managed to keep from your voice. Spider was quiet, deep in thought as he considered the question.

"Maybe a nomad tribe? The flatlands are easily scanned so maybe the cave dwellers north? Or the Ocean clans?" He didn't know. You weren't too surprised, after all he didn't seem that close to the parents of the Sully family.

"I should take you back to the Omatikaya, maybe the avatar's there would know. At the very least you'd be home?" You offered. You were unsure how you felt about going there yourself. You'd only known Norm, Max and Grace. If you came with Spider though the clan might not be too hostile to your presence.

"Uh yeah, home then I guess." You didn't like the way he said it. It stirred the same concern you'd felt before. Though the numbness hadn't left you yet. It was like someone had died, maybe you'd died a little. The part you left behind with the others, still on watch, still part of the team.

You couldn't be that person anymore though. You knew what they were doing with Spider was wrong. What they'd do for RDA was wrong. So you buried that feeling, lasering your focus on Spider and survival.

..............................................................................................................................

Morning came as you walked on. You couldn't afford to rest until there was more space between you and them. You kept smiles and jokes with Spider but you knew he sensed your unease. He didn't have the words to help so kept to joking but it was half hearted. You moved swiftly, sure that the team could be on you any second.

Spider filled the air with stories as the days continued. Jake's kids had been his friends, Kiri especially. You saw his blush and joked with him, making big kissing faces as you taunted him gently. He laughed, more genuinely than days past and you felt yourself do the same.

The mountains drew closer now. Your spirit felt lighter again, distance made it easier to forget their warmth. The scent left on your skin wore away, the mix of the group replaced with the forest and sweat. You focused on the idea of a new life, new friends, even old ones. Spider had spoke little about the humans that remained but had let slip that Max and Norm were still alive. You grew anxious to see them again.

Spider showed you how to hunt like a real Na'vi. Even teaching you prayers to say over kills. Ways to thank the life around you for sustaining your own. It reminded you of your time with Grace before all this. You enjoyed Spider as a teacher, his awe and love of his world shone through. It fed his pride to pass it on too, it was nice to see him so confident.

It was on the last day before the mountains that you felt a familiar unease crawl up your tail to your spine. You whipped around gun raised into the green around you, Spider behind dropping into a protective stance knife raised.

"Be calm." A voice called from the trees. Omatikaya pushed through the leaves, making themselves visible to you both. Their own weapons lowered, you followed suit. They recognized Spider of course and maybe the lack of restraints on him put them at ease about you.

"Spider!" You heard Norm call out, tears welling at the sound of his voice. He rushed forward, tugging the boy up into a hug in his avatar body. You smiled over at him as Spider dangled in his grasp.

"Norm!" You called, grinning as you approached. You didn't know how you'd explain yourself but just seeing him put you at ease. You stilled though, his expression catching you off guard. It was beyond shocked, pale and his tail betrayed a frantic shift in mood. There was a horror in his eyes that you didn't understand.

"Y/n? but wha.. how the.. you were..." He stammered out, Spider slipping out of his arms and dropping to the grass bellow. Spider seemed to mirror some of his unease, fidgeting as he seemed to be trying to form an explanation. You shrugged, you'd have to be the one to break the ice.

"Sorry I know it must be weird, seen as I died..."

"You didn't." The world could have crashed around you and you'd fail to notice. Everything was gone to you. You could only focus ahead as you watched yourself come into view.

You were older now. New wrinkles behind the exopack your human self wore. Their face was stern, something hardened it over the years you'd not experienced yourself. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat quickening. This was why Spider was so strange talking about you, he actually knew you.

You tried to speak, to ask questions but your throat was so tight. A pounding in your head grew until it felt like your skull was going to explode. You dropped into a squat trying to remember how to breathe slower but it wasn't happening. Pain erupted in your chest now too, tears flowing freely as your world shattered around you.

You were dimly aware of Spider with you, gripping your hands and trying to speak. You couldn't understand him over the ringing of your ears. It felt for all the world like you were dying.

Your head shot up to meet your human selves steely gaze. They sighed, looking aggravated at your state before stalking off. Norm came forward then, helping Spider calm you.

Eventually you slowed your breathing, following Spider's instructions and matching his. Norm helped you stand on shaking legs, walking you back to where they made camp.

He kept looking away when you caught his eyes. The man who'd been a friend so many years ago. Maybe it's because you weren't the you he knew. Maybe the you he knew had burned that bridge long ago. You wanted to speak to ask him to explain it all but you couldn't bring yourself too.

The camp was sparse. Nothing like the village you'd heard stories of from Jake before. A shadow of the former tribes lives. Pieces of it hung from walls and were formed into make shift tents. Human weaponry was pilled up beside spears and more traditional equipment.

Everywhere you followed after Norm, eyes shot daggers. You couldn't blame the people, you looked like military. A warrior took your gun and knife from you before a young Na'vi male stood before you. The feathered shoulders clued you in, this was the new Chief. You bowed your head, remembering Grace's lessons and let Spider speak for you.

The young Chief allowed you to stay under the watch of the avatars. You were to be escorted with them or Spider where ever you went. Not a warm welcome but a gracious one considering what experience they'd had of your kind before. You followed Spider into the area the humans stayed, he passed you an air mask and took you through to the labs.

"Oh good you're not dead." The human you walked into your field of vision. It was still startling to see them. They wore clothing more similar to lab wear than you'd ever worn. More like Grace's style. It came to you in a wave of sadness, those were actually some of Grace's clothes.

Spider seemed agitated next to you, this human you making him uncomfortable. You felt yourself shift just slightly, shielding him from them. They didn't notice or didn't care, simply sitting in an office chair and looking stone faced up at you.

"Suppose you want to know what happened then. I got out. I enacted my plan. Took whatever information I could and met Jake and Norm out here. Grace was already dead but we had a fight to win. We did win, though we lost Trudy too but we won. Well for a time anyway. We've been with people out here ever since. Fighting alongside them again. Glad you at least kept my fight." They told the story coldly, no hint of sorrow for who they'd lost nor any sympathy for you hearing it fresh. They seemed to look at you with some distaste, maybe they remembered how you'd still felt about your previous allegiance.

"If I'm honest I'd forgotten all about the Recombinant program until, Socorro here got himself kidnapped."

"Spider." You said firmly, feeling that rage waking in you.

"Sure. Still I'll have to give Max an earful, you weren't supposed to happen." They turned in their chair, facing the computer, conversation over. Spider touched your arm gently urging you to leave with him, his face masking a deep sorrow.

You seethed, letting the tears fall. Screw this you. How could you be so callous now! Did they not remember how it had felt, the guilt? Or had rage burned away the compassion for their once friends. How could they be so cruel to Spider?! Did they even care he wasn't dead! The only question left slipped out as a whisper.

"Don't you give a shit about him?" You kept your eyes on them. Spider quickly tugging you, maybe trying to stop you from speaking but not daring to talk himself.

"hmm?" Your own voice hummed the question, not listening, not even turning. You stormed forward, yanking the chair to face you. Their face betrayed the shock, the sudden fear of their larger stronger self.

"He needed someone years ago and you didn't care. Were you even going to help him now?" You screamed into their face, watching as their eyes darted to your fangs. Spider shrunk back, unable to intervene. You watched as your human self composed, face falling into a neutral mask.

"Why should I? He's not mine." Your human selves face curled, disgust at you, at Spider. This foul reflection angered you, they had what you'd been trying to move towards this whole time. How they wasted it!

You couldn't stand to be anywhere near them now. You saw right through them as your sure they saw into you. They hated the kid. He was a reminder of what they lost to be here.

Spider shifted uncomfortably you turned back to him now. Softening your features you reached a hand to his. He looked at you with glassy eyes and took it. You walked out that room before you pulled him to you, hugging him in close.

"I'm so sorry." You sobbed, feeling him break against you. He cried, wailing against you. It felt like years of repressed feelings boiling over into one moment. His fists smacked against you, then gripped and hugged you.

You couldn't imagine what he must feel. To have been neglected by this person all his life only to be thrust into a horrible situation with their doppelganger. Then for that them to treat him like you had? He must have been a mess of contradictory feelings.

It was a long time before you both stopped crying. He led you to his room here and you both collapsed. It had been over a week since you'd slept soundly but you did now.

..............................................................................................................................

You followed him out to the camp the next morning. He showed you where he met Kiri, where they played as children. Around you the Na'vi looked on, their undisguised mistrust and disgust at you. You were worse than a 'dreamwalker' you must seem like a demon to them. The face of their friend warped to look like them, a false body designed to lure them in to their death.

You felt self conscious about your army gear, opting to let Spider bring you more traditional Na'vi clothing. Your laughable attempts at getting the stuff on led to Mo'at showing you. You'd heard of her before from Grace.

Mo'at seemed to be the only one to treat you kindly at first. Though through her closeness others seemed to drop their walls. You were still foolish and unskillful to them but that was better than being the hated demon.

You wanted to talk to her about the seeds. About what you'd witnessed in the cave but you couldn't. How would she react to knowing you'd desecrated a holy space. Would she even believe Eywa would help your kind? You dropped it, it didn't matter anymore anyway. Why the seeds landed on him didn't matter anymore.

You were settling in the best you could even stopped tugging at the scant clothing you wore now. It had been weeks and Spider's continued lessons had helped make you feel less of a burden. He was with you now, showing you how to build a bow when Norm crashed through the tent. He was a flurry of motion, tripping over baskets as he barreled forward.

"Jake's called, Kiri needs us, come!" He pulled Spider, who grabbed your arm. You stayed rooted.

"Y/n come on!" He tugged.

"I...I can't, go please." Spider hesitated, hand still wrapped around your arm. You couldn't face them now, maybe in time but right now it felt wrong. Your heart was still aching from betraying your friends. What if he sensed it somehow? You didn't want to see the disgust he'd feel if he knew how much you yearned for them.

Spiders fingers slipped, letting Norm lead him to their transport. He kept looking back at you, you waved but stayed still. Watching until he was gone from view, then you were alone. No one said anything or stopped you as you made your way to the forest bellow.

You weren't supposed to go anywhere alone. They didn't trust you still, you supposed but you needed to be alone. You couldn't bare Mo'at or the others seeing you cry for the unit you longed for.

You wandered aimlessly, not even sure yourself where you were going. Here you never really were alone, every animal and plant buzzed with life around you. It felt nice, comforting. The scents of the forest, the breeze through the leaves, the feel of the soil between your toes. It was worth it right? Leaving behind the ones you loved to save this.

You wandered far, not realizing until you were there that you'd gone to 'the shack'. It was as it had been months back. Broken building, abandoned AMP suit. You went to it without hesitation now, peering down at Quartich's skeleton.

Oddly it was headless now. Searching you found the fragments in the dirt. Dimly you remembered Quaritch had not ordered himself be recovered. That he'd taken his tags off but left the body here. Had he done that to his skull? It put you in mind of a phoenix, that he'd rose from his ashes into his new life.

You wished you'd done the same. Bitterly imagining your human self back at camp. You wondered if they'd even notice Spider's absence this time. If they'd even check if he was out or missing. You remembered how Quaritch spoke of his human selves orders back in the cave. Maybe he didn't like his other self much either.

You barely felt the twitch of being watched before pain flooded your senses. Screaming you gripped your side, looking down at the bright tranq jutting out. The drug worked quick, you'd barely taken a step before your legs turned to stone. You tumbled into the grass, the cold numbness spreading up. You tried to scream, to crawl but it was no use. Your body simply wouldn't obey, stilling in the clearing.

They'd found you, they must have found you! Your vision hazed, a wobbling blur as the drug flooded your senses. Human figures stalked forward. Brow furrowing you tried to look at them.

"Hardly recognized this one all dressed up! Or down eh? Ardmore better give me a raise for taggin one!" A boot by your head sneered out before it struck you.

#quaritch x reader #quaritch x you #avatar imagine #avatar #the way of water #lyle wainfleet x reader #zdog x reader #mansk #prager #my fics #recome again #recom reader

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sparkly-key · 11 months

Text

Vengeance, burning bright pt. 2

Sensing Hastur's demonic presence, Crowley rushes to the bookshop. Content warning: Graphic depiction of a corpse, aftermath of torture, major character death.

Written for Whumptober 2023 Day 25 – “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.” | Storm | Buried alive | “They’re not breathing!”

Part 1

On AO3

Crowley swerved, barely avoiding the bookshelves that suddenly appeared in the middle of Whickber Street. The shelves and their contents smoldered, the scent of fire still on them even though flames no longer touched it.

The Bentley screeched to a stop and he practically leapt out of the car. His jaw dropped as he started at the bookshop, hellfire flames licking the wooden façade.

“Aziraphale?!” He shouted, shutting the doors with a snap. “Where the Heaven are you, you idiot? I can’t find you!”

He spun around, ash and ember and papers falling around them The song that had been playing in the Bentley now blared on Aziraphale’s gramophone, the vocals echoing through the shop over the crackle and roar of the flames.

“Aziraphale, For God’s – For Satan’s – for somebody’s sake, where are you?!” He shouted, the ferocity of his words grating his throat.

He forced the memory down as he dashed through the door. Muriel –

Pain erupted in his skull as something hard connected with the back of his head, dropping him to the ground.

“Hello Crowley,” Hastur snarled, a baseball bat clenched in his right hand. “Long time, no see.”

The redhead grunted in pain as Hastur’s steel-toed boot drove into his ribs. He twisted onto his back, grabbing the blond’s footas he went to step on Crowley’s chest. With a snarl, Crowley shoved the duke back, scrambling to his feet as Hastur stumbled.

Crowley sneered as he took in the blond.

Hastur’s face, never pretty, was disfigured further, left eye hanging from its socket and claw marks still red and swollen slashed over his nose and cheeks. The demon stood between Crowley and the door, his lips curled in anger.

“Wha’s the matter, traitor?” Hastur spat. “Somethin’ important in there?”

The bookshop groaned, the exterior beams creaking as the flames ate away at the support.

“You bastard,” Crowley hissed. He could hear faint cries for help and coughs. His face was red with rage as he looked over the rim of his glasses at the blond.

He lunged, his hands closing around the bat as Hastur raised it to hit him again. The duke grunted, his face contorted in pain while he struggled to keep his grip. He kicked, his heavy boot thudding against Crowley’s shin.

The redhead snarled in rage and pain as the bone shattered. The pain lanced through his body. His leg crumpled beneath him. Hastur bore down on him, forcing him to the ground and using the bat as leverage to pin him to cement.

The duke straddled his torso, triumph flaring in his intact, beady black eye. His hands circled Crowley’s throat, his fingers bruising.

“Been dreamin’ about this for years,” he growled, his grip tightening as Crowley clawed at his arms.

“Crowley!” A familiar voice screamed.

Aziraphale ran toward them from the Dirty Donkey, his familiar beige coat flapping behind him. His hand was raised, fingers pressed together as he prepared to snap.

“Even better,” Hastur hissed gleefully.

BOOM

There was a mighty shudder. Hellfire bloomed past the shop’s windows as the shop exploded, the blast knocking Aziraphale back. He collided with a bookshelf, the contents collapsing on top of him as the shelves broke. Another toppled on top of him.

“Angel!” Crowley howled as hellfire rained from the sky.

Fury blossomed inside him, every fiber of his being engulfed with rage. His body burned, hot enough the cement beneath him blackened. His maw parted – wider than a human’s jaw could ever stretch – in a demonic shriek as a column of lightning pierced the sky and struck him and Hastur.

Hastur’s grip and he convulsed violently as the current flooded their bodies – the lightning splintered and arced off Crowley as he sent it rolling in the air around him. Hastur’s skin blistered and shrunk as the strike burned him from the inside, hardening and blackening until Crowley shoved a black and oozing corpse off of him.

Snarling in pain, Crowley pushed himself to his feet. His right leg dragged behind him as he limped to the doors. He threw his arms wide, raw power radiating off him as the bookshop – collapsed beams and walls inside included – cleaved in two before him like the Red Sea had for Moses. He grit his teeth and hobbled toward the diminutive figure laying prone before him.

Muriel’s limp body was covered in ash and burns as he heaved them into his arms. He cradled them against him, his jaw clenched as every step sent a wave of agony through his spine. The flames engulfing the bookshop rose higher, contorting around the barrier he had created around him.

~*~

Aziraphale dug himself out of the debris as Crowley hobbled out of the shop, The building, no longer held off by the demon’s power, collapsed into a mountain of burning bricks and wood as sirens filled the air.

He hurried to the pair, catching the demon as Crowley’s leg gave out and he pitched forward – Muriel’s corporation pressed between them.

The Archangel winced at the heat emanating from the demon. Gingerly, he eased their bodies to the ground.

Muriel’s Grace was drained, only the barest vapors remaining as he laid them out on the pavement. But. Maybe it was enough.

“M-my dear, a little space, please?” he asked, realizing Crowley was hovering over them.

With a groan, the demon dragged himself away from the angels. But only far enough that Aziraphale could kneel over Muriel’s body without bumping into them. It was only a quick glance up that made the blond realize Crowley’s power still shielded them, hellfire and debris striking some invisible barrier before it slid to the ground away from them.

How he’d missed his knight in shining armor.

Gently, the Archangel coaxed Muriel’s mouth open, tipping their head back slightly. Warmth flooded Aziraphale’s body as he placed his hands on Muriel’s forehead and abdomen. Golden light radiated from his body, shining in the night.

A tear escaped as he closed his eyes, praying to Her to spare the naïve angel’s life. (He never would have known about the blaze if Muriel hadn’t spent their Grace on his books, vessels he’d imbued with his essence over decades of ownership and love.)

He inhaled, collecting his Grace in a ball at his core.

He covered their mouth with his and exhaled, pouring his Grace into the scrivener. He coaxed it through them, the light growing to encompass Muriel as it dulled around him.

Aziraphale pulled away with a gasp, shuddering at the drain he felt. His hands moved to Muriel’s chest, where their heart would have been, and he pressed down forcefully, sealing his – their – Grace inside the vessel. The burns left by hellfire healed, scars covering the skin they’d once occupied.

The blond sagged backward, more exhausted than he’d felt in ages.

He met Crowley’s worried gaze – the gold of his irises spilling beyond the circles and his pupils serpentine slits – over the top of his glassed and offered a weak smile.

“Thank you, my dear,” he said tiredly. “They’ll be fine, after they’ve seen the more adept healers.”

The demon scowled as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Tell Muriel to give me a ring when they get back to Earth,” Crowley growled.

Aziraphale’s face fell when Crowley stumbled to his feet and limped away.

#whumptober 2023 #Aziraphale #Crowley #good omens #Hastur #Muriel #cw: graphic description of a corpse #cw: aftermath of torture #cw: major character death

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