#this is very stream of consciousness i have been plagued by this for the past 2 days

[theladyfae]

i need to have Words with whoever translated the script into hindi for good omens 2 and decided on. “nightingale nahin gungunayenge” for that one line cause that shit wrecked me what do you MEAN the nightingale WON’T sing ????? implying it’s there and it could but it Won’t and they could so easily have said “the nightingale isn’t singing” but they didn’t, and the “won’t” adds a sort of weird air to it where it could possibly be encouraged to sing again (if aziraphale stays), but crowley can tell it’s already a lost cause, and somehow that feels worse than the idea that there aren’t any nightingales at all, and. :(

[enihk-writes]

[alone at the edge of the universe humming a tune]

characters: chung myung

summary: it was hard carrying what seemed like the weight of the world on his still-young shoulders

word count: 0.36k

author's note: trying my hand at an experimental writing style, might be shit,,, very rushed stream-of-consciousness narrative in chung myung's pov and im not going to use personal pronouns and uh.... (checks notes) im not really referring to the source material since i haven't finished reading it hahaha....

═══════════════

it's weird, isn't it?

feeling as though his arm was loped off, and the numbness spreading from his shoulders up to his neck and down to the tips of his fingers. it takes a few tries before he finally could sleep well for the night.

even then, in the solace of the walls of his mind, he was plagued with memories, distorted through the lens of his own grief he had yet to lay at rest.

he doesn't tell anyone about this heavy heart of his.

what use was a lifetime's worth of supposed wisdom when he never had to face a single loss until the end of his life? what use was the number of years he had spent alive if all he could ever do was act like the coddled child he had been all this time?

he looks at the kids of the new generation, and he wonders if he has the right to look upon them as children. technically, he was one too, wasn't he?

and like a child, he wants to lay his head full of worries in the arms of the only person who came close to loving him unconditionally.

his sa-hyung.

a boy who was barely an adult himself when the responsibility of raising the infant chung myung fell onto his hands.

all things considered, he thinks his sa-hyung did a fantastic job. had it been anyone else from the sect raising him, he wonders if his undying loyalty to mount hua would have even been there.

it probably wouldn't. though, he was now living a reality where everything he had loved or known was now a fragment of the past, history that had been wrongfully and unfairly erased.

he doesn't want that sort of cruel fate to ever befall the new children of the sect. because, despite everything he said he was, chung myung was a kind child.

for mount hua so loved the world that they gave their kindest child.

and

for the world that grieved so at the loss of his life that the heavens let him come back to fulfil his regrets, so his soul could rest easy when it's time inevitably comes.

[autumnslance]

I have a question about carrying out an idea. I think this writing issue I've been having has been plaguing me longer than my time on Mateus; I’ve always struggled to get past chapter one or even stick to an idea, even when I started writing years ago. Are there any pointers on carrying an idea or story through?

That's a hard one, as I know I have plenty of plans and WIPs I haven't gotten past those stages myself.

So I ask myself what's the core of the idea, the heart of it? What is it I really want to say? I don't tend to write chronologically myself; I write lines, descriptions, bits of dialogue, scenes, and chapters entirely out of order. I know where they "go" in the overall arc. And sometimes, like with the Avengret storyline, I can then string them together, shuffling the order, writing new bridging scenes, removing or combining others as needed.

If I am trying to write in order, even then if a section is hard, or boring, or not working--skip it. Put in some brackets with [AND THEN X AND Y HAPPENS AND IT'S NOW THE NEXT DAY]. Move on to the next part that excites you, or that you at least know what happens. You can always double back later and add in that connecting scene...or even decide it isn't needed now, you've covered everything it would have elsewhere, and can just be summarized and moved on from.

I've recently been reading a "How To Write" series of books by James Scott Bell; there are several, but they're all pretty short. One of the pieces of advice he gives is to start in the middle (go to the midpoint of just about any novel or film, and it's somewhere very near that 50% mark in one direction or another). Find the "mirror moment" a point--sometimes a page or paragraph, sometimes just a single line--that is a frank look at the situation, self, etc on the part of the main character. What do they see? It's a moment of reflective truth. Who is the character in this midpoint? How did they get here? Who do they need to be/what must they do to get to the end? How do they realize they may fail? What forces are against them? Do they realize/acknowledge any of this?

These are recommendations more for novels than short stories, but heavens know how long some of our fics go, and short stories do still have similar, if truncated, structures and beats.

Anyway, you're not beholden to write from beginning to end. You may not know everything about your story yet--because you haven't written it yet, and these things change form, even for plotters with outlines. Write scenes. Write chapters. Write microfics that are just a couple lines of dialogue. Use prompt lists and challenges, if you gotta. Start small and build, as one of the old philosophers said.

(and eventually one day you look and realize you've written a few hundred thousand words, many of them about your OC and a Damn Rogue wending through their world...)

Writing works like exercise; you have to practice it, figure out what works for you, at what times of day, and it can be a struggle to keep up momentum. In the meanwhile, you also have to take other care of yourself.

Like actual exercise (whatever you're able to do; at least stretches, which is where I'm at some days). Remembering to eat and stay hydrated, get plenty of sleep (don't @ me, I sleep, just on a later schedule), and also do remember to intake other creative works; I got a rush of inspiration last year and spent months feverishly writing scenes and plotting and writing dialogues and making timeline outlines and writing more pages I'll never use after reading a popular novel, cuz the visceral language and a vaguely similar character dynamic in certain specific ways clicked something on in my brain. We gotta feed that persnickety little muse.

And on the days the muse is being recalcitrant...we write anyway. It's hard, it feels like it sucks, but if we want to get something done? Write something. Anything. Stream of consciousness if you gotta; complain, talk out your ideas, maybe write a little from that. And the next day look at it and realize it's not so bad as you thought and a little polish will fix it.

So don't try to be perfect first round; writing is messy. Revision and editing is where we make it look pretty (you usually don't have to rewrite entirely front to back, either; some folks like to, but for many others that's only if there's serious structure issues; mileage varies per project, too, as they're all different).

So write the scenes out of order, as they come. See what ideas stick and what are just idle thoughts. Maybe they're all true and there's multiverses and AUs there. See what starts t string together into coherence. Don't be afraid to revise, rewrite, even retcon if something better comes along months later after you already posted something.

The only way to know the story is to write it, figuring out how it wants to be written, and sometimes that means writing it from other angles and around the back way until it tells us how it got to that point (and whether what we thought was the start actually was or not).

Anyway. This got long, hopefully there's some tiny tidbit that helps!

[with-love-from-hell]

Blasphemy (part 1)

Request by @mind-on-fire​

“...I'd love to see your take on an mc who deals with religious trauma/cptsd from a strict religious life that they "escaped" from prior to RAD. I imagine the triggers of being dragged to literal hell would be on an mc who left that part of their life behind. Particularly, how this would influence their relationships with the angel duo, as they "technically" embody the values they were raised with. But also the bros who are former angels themselves.. And the weight of these demons and heaven/hell actually being "real." Plus, having to learn to separate what they were taught, with what they learn to be truth over the course of a year...”

Sorry this took me so long! I was so eager to write it but I had to sit for awhile and think of the direction I wanted it to go. I figured I would make this a 3 or 4-part series dedicated to religious trauma, specifically an MC coming from a strict Christian household. I love this idea and definitely plan on bringing the concept into future works, but for now, please have this mini series!! I did not polish this one up much, and it may read as very “stream of consciousness”, though I kind of wanted to experiment with that type of writing style for this one! (Read more under the cut).

Genre:  hurt/comfort, angst

Primary characters featured: Lucifer, Simeon, Belphegor, Mammon

Written for a GN!MC

WC: ~2.8k

Part two Part three

TRIGGER WARNING: Religious trauma, mentions of past physical, sexual, and emotional abuse, some sexual themes, C-PTSD,  graphic depictions of violence.

CW: discussion of eternal damnation/fears of death and the afterlife, panic attacks, anxiety, depression, executive dysfunction, negative self-talk, mental-breakdown of MC, swearing, mentions of death, existential crises, spoilers for lessons 16+, romantic relationship between mammon x mc, unpolished

You jolted straight up in bed with a piercing scream. Gasping for air and clawing aggressively at your neck, you try to calm yourself down from the nightmares that continued to plague your subconscious. Since Belphegor’s attack, this has pretty much been how you spent all of your nights. 

Your door burst open and the light flickered on. Lucifer stood panting in a navy blue robe, his eyes darting around the room to make sure you were safe. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no threats in your bedroom. 

“S-sorry, Lucifer.” You rasped out, still trying to catch your breath. 

“Another one, huh?” He gave you a half smile and approached the edge of your bed, sitting down gently near your midsection and gently clutching your trembling hand in his. 

You drop your gaze from him and nod slowly. You were embarrassed at how often this was happening. Before you were killed, you had nightmares maybe once per week...but now, they occurred multiple times per night. It has been nearly a month since you had been killed by the hands of the 7th brother- one of the most powerful beings in hell- after being manipulated into releasing him from the attic. Since then, he has apologized and has been trying to make you more comfortable around him...but the closer he gets to you, the more you think about your upbringing. 

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You had been brought up in a very strict Baptist household, where the threat of eternal damnation was held to your back like a sharp blade. One wrong move, and it was down to hell you go. No dating, no swearing, no talking back, dressing in only the most modest of clothes, no alcohol...none of it. You went to church 3 times per week where the sermons were always the same messages - give yourself up to the lord and he will bless you with eternal life after death. It would have been convincing if not for the relentless abuse by your father every time you faltered in your faith- even by miniscule means. 

Every time you spoke out of turn; every time you failed to remember a passage for an important event where you would be speaking; every message found on your phone to an individual you were showing too much sinful attention to...it all lead to the belt. And your mother...well, she just turned away from it.

It took you many years to escape your chains that this life had upon you. You had ran away from home numerous times as a child, trying desperately to flee the ever-mounting wrath that your father exhibited. You had convinced yourself that, if there was a god, surely they would not want their followers to suffer. Surely they would want them to be happy- so why was your life filled with torture? You thought perhaps that there was no God at all at one point. And when your mother found your journals where your faith was brought into question, the abuse from her started as well. 

Though your mother had before been more passive, she quickly became as brutal as your father. When she had found out another child in your class at school had kissed you during recess when you were 8, she screamed in your face for engaging in homosexual activity.  She had caught you masturbating when you were 11, and as punishment she forced you to explain the actions in detail in front of the entire church to repent for the sin- but not before initiating a beating from your father. When she had found out that you stopped wearing your rosary to school due to the kids making fun of you for being “a religious nut case,” she slapped you and called you a heathen for giving into the peer pressure to conform. 

The worst instance, however, was when your mother accused you of offering sexual services to members of the clergy after learning that one of them had molested you when you were 13- which again, lead to another beating from your father. She never let you forget the horrors you went through in the confessional box when that man had told you that you would be sent to hell if you didn’t cleanse yourself of sinful desires. 

 You finally managed to escape the years of abuse when you turned 19. A friend you had met in online circles had offered you up a place to stay in the next state over, and you pounced on the opportunity. You managed to get to your friend, and completely fell out of contact with your family. Since then, you have had to start your life completely over from scratch. It was hard, but you were able to do so with the support your slowly built around you. 

And then, just as you had begun to feel free, you were suddenly here. In hell, living amongst the things you were brought up to fear- and you did fear them. How could you not? Especially after knowing you were right where your parents said you’d end up.

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“You don’t need to apologize.” Lucifer whispered softly, squeezing your hand. “You’ve been through a lot the past few months- Hell, you’ve been through a lot your whole life.” 

You glanced up at him, noticing his bright crimson eyes were trained on the scars that littered your collar. You pulled your night shirt over to cover them better and looked away. You told Lucifer details about your past after you had started growing closer to him. He was well aware of the suffering you had endured throughout your life, and there wasn’t a day that past that he didn’t feel regret for what he- and most of his other brothers- had put you through since you got here. 

Lucifer was surprised at the fact that you managed to get close to anyone else other than Mammon, as he was the only one who never posed a threat to you or triggered any of your past trauma. Sure, he was an ass at times, but he never actually hurt you, or did things that make you uncomfortable. 

As if he had heard you both thinking his name, Mammon appeared in the doorway. He was wearing his normal clothing, so you figured he must have just gotten back from a night at the Casino. His expression was painted with worry for your wellbeing. “Oi- Mc. Everythin’ ok?” 

You glanced up at him, now realizing that tears had begun to fall. Lucifer rose from his spot on the bed, and nodded to both you and Mammon before exiting your room and closing the door gently behind him. Mammon rubbed the back of his neck as he approached you, sitting down in the spot where Lucifer had been.

You didn’t say anything for a moment; you just stared at the sheets that had been gathered into a ball in front of you. The tears continued to flow silently as you both sat there in silence. 

Eventually, Mammon pulled you into his warm embrace. He nuzzled his face into your hair and hushed you as you cried. Mammon wasn’t all that great at providing comfort, but he was trying to be better at it for you. 

Mammon was shocked that you had reciprocated his feelings after the shit you had gone through it your life...but wasn’t it ironic? Such a innocent, friendly soul who was raised in the letter of god, falling for a demon? Truly there was nothing more sinful than that. He could almost laugh at the idea, if you hadn't been through so much pain to get to where you are now. 

He clamored into bed beside you and clutched you tight against his chest. He knew how terrible your nightmares were, and he hoped that his presence eased them a little bit. He knew going out tonight wouldn’t be wise, but he had to pay those god damned witches back somehow. Either way, he did what he had to, and he was here with you now, humming to you gently as you fell asleep in his arms. 

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The thoughts of Belphegor’s actions continued to plague you throughout the next few days. You found yourself feeling more easily startled than ever before. Any time you were finding yourself alone in a room with the sleepy-eyed demon, you found your mind flashing back to when you pulled him into a hug, and the feeling of betrayal when he began ruthlessly beating and strangling you. 

Belphie could tell by the look in your eyes when he saw you what was happening. He cursed himself for his actions- knowing that he had probably completely fucked over any chance of a relationship the two of you had. He wanted so desperately for you to forgive him so you could stop looking at him with those wide eyes full of fear, but he knew it was not his place to demand forgiveness. 

He just really wanted you to stop being afraid of him.

But how could you not be? 

He had heard snippets of your conversations about your past while you talked about it with Mammon, and Belphie’s heart ached at the fact that he further influenced that trauma. You had spent so much of your life fearing death, and the threat of demons touching, pulling, abusing, and mutilating you in the pits of hell. And he sure made your time here live up to that expectation...as did the rest of his brothers...

Except Mammon. 

Somehow, you had managed to enjoy your stay as time had been marching forward, and Belphie knew that Mammon, as dense as he was, was easily the second kindest of all his brothers (next to Beel of course). But even Beel had an episode of weakness when he exploded and destroyed the kitchen in anger. Sure, he didn’t hurt you...but he could have. and you knew that the display of aggression could have quickly turned on you if you made the wrong move. 

But Mammon...he was rude, annoying, selfish...and yet, never once thought to lay a hand on you. No matter how frustrated he was with having you cling to his hip like a lost puppy, or when you formed a pact with him so quickly over his credit card, or even when you had done so many reckless things that put him- and yourself- directly in front of the wrath of your brothers. Somewhere deep down, Belphie and his other brothers knew the reason for this was because Mammon began falling for you the minute you spoke to him on the phone for the first time. And when he saw you in person, all bets were off. 

You had fun with Mammon. He made living life in hell a little less scary each time he got you to erupt into a fit of giggles. He helped you bond more with his brothers, and really- he was the fuel behind helping heal the wounds that so deeply impacted each of the brothers. Mammon was a bleeding heart deep down, and you saw that in him and nourished it, rather than the jaded prick that everyone else saw him as. 

You accepted him as he was, and loved him for his flaws. 

Wasn’t that truly what you wanted to give and get out of any type of religious sacrament? To be loved wholly, to be treated with respect and dignity, and to love others despite their flaws? Perhaps this was the lesson brought with you through the path to heating from your brutal past- and you saw something in Mammon that you connected to. That same desire burned so deeply within him, and he only needed you to let it out of him. 

When he confessed his love for you via text, you were stunned. Surely he must be joking, you thought. But he wasn’t- not this time. 

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Your relationship blossomed and you became inseparable. In a sense, he was your night in shining armor; your hero; your protector. Though he wondered if you may rely on him too much, he took great joy in being able to make you feel safe and secure. He loved being able to hold you in his arms and feel your body relax against him after a long day.

Eventually, the relationship lead to the point where any average partnership would. The night he kissed you for the first time, and you had a panic attack as a result of his display of affection.

That was the night you told him about your past. You revealed to him the deepest shames you carried with you while he stared at you, mouth agape in disbelief. You were someone he cherished and who had been so unconditionally kind and loving to him...To know you had gone through such atrocities- and at the hands of people who claimed they wanted what was best for you, who claimed to love you, who claimed they wanted to save you...Well, I’m sure you could guess how he took that information, dear reader. 

Not well. 

Mammon would have transformed into his demon form immediately if he had just an ounce less of self-control. He paced the room, cursing all of the individuals who had hurt you, and placed such fear within you of how life was in Devildom- further, he hated how you had been predisposed to a fear of how loving someone else- loving him- would ultimately result in your pain and suffering. Empty threats escaped his lips at a rapid pace. He was furious. Furious for you, furious for himself, and furious for how difficult these monsters had made it for you both to love each other. 

After calming down, he returned to your side and made an oath to never harm you in any way. He placed his hand over the pact mark above your chest, and vowed that he should be struck down should be ever stoop so low as to inflict pain upon his lover. You felt comforted by it, and as each day carried on, you trusted him more and more. 

Until you were killed in cold blood, bleeding out heavily while he cradled you in his arms and begged you not to leave him. You were the only one who saw him as more than his sin. Truthfully, he felt he wasn’t deserving of you- but Mammon was greed after all. He needed you, he wouldn’t let you just...leave. 

It took so long for you to trust any of the brothers after that moment. The fears you held within you increased 10-fold, and it was hard for you to be alone with any of them. 

Yes, even Mammon. 

His own brother’s had actions had made you so endlessly terrified, you feared Mammon was just manipulating you like all the others that came before your time in Devildom. Truly, how could you trust him, when someone else he claimed to love and trust had struck you down so mercilessly. 

Mammon mourned the loss of the closeness you two once shared, and he did think for a moment that this would mark the end of your relationship. But after conversing with the Wizard who you called a friend about him and his actions toward you, you decided to give him another chance. And boy, would he not mess this one up. 

Now, you both are here. Damaged, but healing slowly together. Mammon gives you enormous amounts of validation about how much you mean to him, how good of a person you are, and how the things you had learned about heaven and hell had all been...welll...frankly, they had been mostly lies. 

Not all demons were blood-thirsty monsters who only wanted to do harm onto humans. Mammon was a perfect example of that, and while he did often try to scam others for a quick buck, you knew that he was more than that. He was...complicated. Much like humans are. There was not a cookie-cutter fit for how each acts and behaves, and the ones you had become acquainted with were so pained to see you suffer. They showed more empathy and kindness to you than your parents, that church, or whatever god exists ever had. And that made healing happen much faster. 

Sure, you were murdered by a demon. But was your soul not tormented long before this point by those who claimed to be holy?

...Perhaps the lesson you took from the experience of death should be just that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[syven-siren]

Temporary Translucence | Part 4

Summary: After a mission that brings back the ghosts of your former life, you are uncertain about the future. You are struggling to keep the past where it belongs and desperately hope for a new beginning. Ultimately, you come to question the very fabric of who you are.

Warnings: Anxiety / Bullying / Descriptive Injury / Lack of Self-Confidence / PTSD Themes / Panic Attacks 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Temporary Translucence Masterlist

Restless.

Settled amongst pillows and sheets, you give in to the unsettling stillness of your bedroom. Your tossing and turning ended hours ago but your body still vibrates with echoes of your mission. The heaviness of your extremities is only outweighed by the anxiety plaguing your mind.

Within the darkness behind your eyelids, you find the doorway to your past and present transgressions; ones you cannot seem to escape no matter how many years have passed, names you’ve taken, or miles you traveled.

Looking left. Looking right. More darkness.

There is no end. Was there ever a beginning? Perhaps at one time.

Your dreams had not always been like this. No aimless wandering. No endless void. The time you spend here, before the waking hour, used to be filled with smiling faces and the fixtures of family life you had never known until that point. The dreams were a loop of your collective memories, the good ones. The ones where you ran through the halls with a pair of smaller feet chasing after you. Your combined laughter bouncing off the perfectly decorated walls as you ducked and weaved through the thicket of unsuspecting maids. Those dreams were a replica of the first home you had ever known; the haven where safety smelled of grapes and fresh rainwater.

Gone are those treasures. Their luster has been worn away, leaving behind an unwanted truth. Fallacies, all of it.

It’s been so long since you have visited the mausoleum of your memories but still, you feel their haunting presence. For as much as you try to separate yourself from them, they are the fabric of who you are today. Too full that grave is, so you tend to a different place.

The next burial plot is waiting, not too far from your consciousness. It is ready to swallow all that will be placed within it.

Even you.

Mournful.

You’ve given up on trying to claw your way out of despair’s grave. The dirt beneath your nails in the collection of your own anguish.

What if she comes back for me?

What if they get hurt because of me?

What if I can’t save them?

I couldn’t help then.

And I can’t save myself now.

I wasn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

Each new thought is a shovel full of dirt being cast upon you by the reaper himself. Yet even as it becomes hard to breathe, you allow yourself to be buried alive.

It’s better this way.

Alone.

Not burdening others.

Fully buried with your grief, you find a perverted sense of solace.

It is a pain that is all too familiar and too welcomed by you.

Observant.

The party is in full swing by the time you exit the elevator. Upbeat music plays in the background, luring you from the confines of your mind. Taking the flute of champagne offered by a passing waiter, your eyes scan the room. Individuals glide about, wrapped in expensive suits and dresses. Heels and shined shoes click against the hardwood flooring. Heads tip back in laughter and conversations, in various languages, meld together into one solid stream of noise.

Steve, Sam, and Bucky stand with a group of military officers. Most are older gentlemen. They come from generations that know all too well that casualties of war are not always the ones left buried in foreign lands or returning home in pine boxes. They seem to be reminiscing, finding comfort in tales that most will never understand.

Your eyes trace their figures, calibrating their posture. Bucky stands rigid but still fidgets. The metal digits of his left-hand twitch, curling and uncurling as he listens. You’ve come to recognize that tick as it happens quite frequently. Although his tenure on the team has been much longer than yours, he still must find himself in uncomfortable situations. A frown hides behind the rim of your glass. You know all too well the feeling of being just at the edge of everything. It’s difficult not to sympathize with the man.

He’s suffering. Still suffering.

You move on, finding Tony and Bruce locked in a heated debate. There’s no telling what they’re discussing. Their mouths move too quickly and surely even if you could hear, you would still be lost. Big brains and big words. Too smart for their own good. Tony’s hands flail, gesturing the enormity of what he is saying. Overly excited that one always is and confident. That’s how you would describe him if anyone were to ask. The other scientist is more cautious, more calculated. Bruce’s shoulders deflate, sinking low as they usually do when certain situations frustrate him. With a shake of his head, he begins a rebuttal with fervor much akin to Tony’s.

The pair make a good team. Fearless curiosity and balanced restraint.

By the bar, Rhodey and Natasha enchant a group of people with a story. Instinctively, your fingers trace the medallion sitting in your pocket. The two are very much like the sun. Beaming, bright, and luring people to look upon them with awe. Even from across the room, the warmth of their combined presence is comforting. There's something else. While it may be easy to miss for most, you can still see the stormy darkness in Nat’s eyes. It’s a glimmer that makes her more human; a vulnerability that you feel connected to. The two of them are endearing and enduring. How you wish you could find those qualities in yourself.

Hesitant.

As the party dwindles and guests take their leave, the Avengers migrate towards couches. The laughter and stories continue, becoming more intimate and personal and once again, you feel as if you are encroaching.

“(Y/N)! Where are you going?” A voice calls out as you slink from your secluded corner towards the elevator, “C’mon. There’s enough room for one more.”

Clint. Though not one to make himself the center of attention, he stands out when needed. He is covert and deliberate in most things but there’s underlying humanity in his actions.

Even across the room, he has his hand out to you, again waiting for you to make the next move. The smile he wears is warm, quelling your nervous jitters. Following his initiative, the others call out to you, urging you to join. It’s a change, scary and new but an offer you take.

Witty.

“Hey. Excuse me,” Tony accusingly points a finger causing you to tense. “That’s not one of the options I sent up.”

“Oh. Well, while the dresses you chose were absolutely beautiful, they weren't necessarily functional.”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N).” Each sigh of your name is laced with exasperation. “I'll let it slide that you lied when you told us you had nothing nice to wear. I knew you had to have something impressive in that wardrobe of yours.” His hand gestures to the stunning suit you wear. Head to toe, you project poised confidence but underneath it all, you are still a bundle of nerves. "And just for your information, fashion isn’t meant to be functional."

“Well, you never know when I might need to save your ass again, Tony.”

The laughter picks up again with hoots and hollers from the others. Tony stutters before lamenting that Ironman can get out of any situation only if his suit is working properly. The calls for more details come from those that had not been present. And most are on the edge of their seats as Natasha and a somewhat inebriated Tony begin to reenact the takedown scene. It’s only when she flings him over her shoulder and he lets out a high-pitched squeal that you join the others in raucous laughter.

...

Over the years, you and your desires have been described in many ways. You’ve taken on numerous faces throughout your life for a plethora of causes and yet there are only four words that have rung true through each of your lives. And now, there is one more. It’s the one you have decided upon for yourself. For the first time, you know it to be the most accurate.

Yearning...To stay. To belong. To call this home. To call them family.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. It really helps when you do. Feedback is always appreciated!

Avengers Masterlist • Temporary Translucence Tag List

A/N: I know. I know. This is a more introspective chapter. But I felt this was the right place to go before the next few. Parts 5 & 6 have more interactions and drama. They are fairly long so prepare yourselves. We needed a quiet one before I hit ya with the action. 

Parts 5 & 6 will be posted on Friday (4.23.21). They will go up at 6:30pm & 7:00pm. 

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[justnerdthings]

New Beginnings Ch.5

female reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao (Not sure which yet)

I don't need to explain anything. I'm a dramatic ass bitch.

Also, you find out your arcana today!

Day three of training. Your arms ached to the point that changing out of your night robe and into a clean gi took several minutes. Today was not going to be fun.

The morning had gone about the same as yesterday. You were only a step closer to the edge of that cliff, but thanks to withdrawal, you may as well have been hanging off of it. The pain throughout your body acted as a welcomed distraction. Training with Liu had been the same.

It was after dinner now and Liu was leading you through the halls.

“How are your arms feeling?” Liu asked.

“Sore.”

“And your back?”

“Still sore, Liu…” You’d been a little testy today. The pain radiating in your upper body probably didn’t help, but you knew the real reason. This was the third day in a row you hadn’t taken your medication.

“I see…” He’d noticed your demeanor since breakfast, and it only seemed to get worse throughout the day. Lao had warned him you were rather hostile this morning. He was worried this would happen. “I’m sorry that we don’t have your medication here.”

“Why can’t I just go home and get it? I’ll come back.”

“Even if you did, what would happen when you run out?”

“I’d just get it refilled.”

“And what if Mortal Kombat comes sooner than expected and you are without it? It can last days.”

Today you were in no mood for his knack of poking holes in your logic. But you bit your tongue.

“This will be good for you,” He said.

“This is hell, Liu.”

“It will pass.”

“But will I?”

Liu looked at you and his jaw hardened. You’d been increasingly more morbid since breakfast. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you got two-hundred milligrams of sertraline in your pocket.”

He frowned. “What did you used to do before you were on medication?”

“Cry.”

“Y/N…”

You sighed. Patience was wearing thin. “Run.”

“Run?”

“Yeah. Not far or anything. Just enough to burn off the rogue adrenaline.”

“Would you like to run?”

You looked at him, not entirely sure what he meant.

“We can run.” He gestured down the hall. “Lao and I used to race each other through the temple many times.”

“What stopped you?”

“It wasn’t challenging anymore.” He grinned.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “I doubt I’ll be much of a challenge, Liu.”

“I don’t mind. Besides, endurance training is important for a fighter.”

Again with his logic… “Okay. Sure.”

He smiled. “Great. Whenever you’re ready.” He gestured.

You took a few deep breaths as you stared down the hall. It couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet. That would be easy enough. Your legs pushed off, and you ran at a comfortable jog. You hadn’t done this in years. It felt alien at first, but you quickly picked up the pace as your legs remembered how to carry you properly. Your heart pounded as you raced through the halls, dodging monks. It was like a metronome you had to keep up with. You felt so free, you turned a corner and kept going.

Liu had no problem keeping up with you, but stayed back at a pace to keep an eye on you. After a while, his presence behind you grew annoying… suffocating. You sped up, but he must have kept up. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck. Your heart pounded faster. Your anxiety was creeping up again. You were starting to feel things that weren’t true. Bugs on your arms. Always bugs on your arms. Thick air...

You couldn’t breathe.

You came to a stop and put a hand against a wall. You leaned against it as you fought for each breath. Your chest was on fire. Sweat had soaked you. You clenched your eyes shut and bent over as your chest, arms, and back screamed with pain.

Liu was right there. Concern was all over his face as he moved in front of you and knelt to meet your eyes. Seeing them closed so tight, and the pain on your face, fear flowed through him. “Y/N. Y/N! Are you alright?” You felt his warm hands gently hold your face.

You shook your head free from his hands. “Can’t… can’t bre—… breathe,” you gasped. Another squeeze of pain in your chest finally caused tears to roll down your cheeks as you cried out. Was this it? Was this the heart attack you had feared would come ever since you were a teenager? You hadn’t thought much about it in the past few years, but this was it, wasn’t it? You were going to die. You were going to die just like your great grandparents had, just like your grandmother had, how your mother was predicted to die. Heart disease was going to kill your whole family. And you were going to die right here, right now!

Strong arms had swept you up and your body tensed with the sudden weightlessness. Did you just die? No. You were being carried and rushed down the halls.

But you were still convinced this was it. You were dying. You were dying and there wasn’t a real hospital anywhere near here. You were doomed. Your heart pounded faster and harder as if it was about to burst out of your chest. You were going to die in this strange place. No family. No friends. Your chest tightened and you gasped, gripping Liu's gi as if it would save you. Your heart was doing summersaults. Tremors began to plague you and your blood turned into ice. Tears were streaming down your face now as panic took complete control of your body.

There was a pause in Liu’s pace as the ground began to shake. You could feel him hold you closer, protectively, before consciousness slipped away from you.

————

Liu’s own heart was racing as he watched your face. The pain that shot through you… You weren’t breathing properly at all. Tears unlike he’d ever seen streamed down your face. He had no idea what was happening to you, but he knew it wasn’t good. It wasn’t right. You needed medical attention.

In one graceful motion, he’d scooped you up. You shook in his arms. You were so cold. Something was definitely not right. He carried you down the hall, racing for the infirmary.

The ground rumbled. He barely registered it before it shook his footing off kilter. He held you closer and backed against a wall to steady himself and you. A crack shot up the wall opposite him which quickly webbed off up and down the hall. Pieces of the cave were falling. The icy wave of adrenaline washed over him. The temple was crumbling!

Lightning shot through the hall. Lui ducked down and out of the way with you, using his back-side to shield you from stray sparks. The shaking stopped. Peeking over his shoulder, he found the cracks in the walls to be mended with black glass. He didn’t move for a moment. Would there be an aftershock?

But nothing came.

He stood. You were still safe in his arms. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at your face. His heart skipped.

You were limp. You’d passed out on him. At least he hoped you were just passed out...

He held you closer, chest to chest, ear to your lips. A relieved sigh escaped him again. You were breathing. Good. He carried you again, running for the infirmary.

You laid on an old gurney, still passed out. The monks were confident that you weren’t in any danger, but it did little to wave Liu’s worry. As Lui stood by you, he thumbed his prayer beads, trying to register everything that happened. You had been so frightened…

“How is she?”

Lui was pulled out of his head and looked up. Raiden had pulled aside the curtain. Lui quickly bowed his head in respect, surprised to see him. “They say she’s fine,” he answered.

Raiden nodded and stepped closer to you. His hand hovered over your head for a moment, then he moved it slowly down the length of your body right to your feet. “Fear consumes her… She must learn to control it. She nearly killed you all.”

Lui had watched him, then looked to his face with confusion.

Raiden glanced to him and swept his hand back up your body as if trying to pinpoint something. "Don't tell me you haven't caught on yet, Liu Kang," he said with amusement.

"She did that?" Liu asked in disbelief, watching Raiden's hand. Could you really have shaken the earth so violently?

Raiden nodded. Finally his hand stopped right above your chest. "Ah, there it is." He clenched his hand, as if grabbing hold of something and pulled his hand up as if lifting something out of you. A small black wisp was pulled from your chest. It wriggled in protest as Raiden held it.

Liu's eyes widened at the sight. "What is that?"

You released a breath and your chest stilled.

Adrenaline kicked in again and Liu moved closer. No...

"Ah-uh. None of that…" Raiden chided gently. He placed his free hand directly on your chest and gave you a small shock. It jerked your body. Your lungs dragged in a breath as life was restored to you.

Liu allowed himself to breathe again. Raiden pulled his hand away from you and turned his attention back to the black wisp caught in his other hand. "Disease plagues her family, Liu Kang. But no longer does it plague her." He squeezed the wisp in his hand and sparks ignited. It burnt away in seconds.

"Disease?" Liu had no idea you were ill.

"Her fear stems from this disease. She has lived in fear of it since she was a small child."

"Is her anxiety is gone now?"

"She will still have anxieties, but knowing that her heart is not a time bomb will ease it." Raiden looked over you again. He placed his hand on your head, then turned to face Liu. "She is fond of you, Liu Kang. With Kung Lao's help you two will give her reason to not only fight, but live. I'm interested to see how that turns out." A small grin pulled his lips as he turned away and pulled aside the curtain. "Very interested indeed."

——————

You woke later into the night. You hated yourself. You hadn’t had an episode like that in years. You’d forgotten just how bad they were. You felt like a total jackass that you'd wasted everyone's time. You had thought you were going to drop dead! You laid there on the gurney, cussing yourself out with a throbbing head, staring at the ceiling and those stupid lanturns… Did the walls always have that black glass running through them?

Liu poked his head through the curtain and knocked on the wall. You turned your eyes to see him. He offered you a small smile. “May I come in?”

You nodded and closed your eyes for a moment as the headache shifted behind them.

He stepped in and to your side. His smile turned sad. Pity. It was pity. You were sure of it. “How do you feel?” he asked innocently enough.

You held your head and tears started filling your eyes again. "Like an idiot."

He frowned and moved closer. “You are not an idiot.”

“Yes, I am. I thought I was dying. But it was just a stupid anxiety attack!” You kicked an IV rack in your frustration. Liu hadn’t been expecting that and jumped slightly. The crash gained attention from the monks and one pulled the curtain aside to investigate.

“Sorry,” you said through tears. But you weren’t.

The monk looked from you to Liu with suspicion. Liu nodded to him and moved to pick up the IV rack. He set it well out of your reach. Luckily you weren’t hooked up to it. The monk stayed for a moment longer until he was confident that everything was fine. Liu returned to your side. “When you described your anxiety the other night, I had no idea it was this bad.”

“I forgot,” you admitted, wiping your nose.

He nodded and pulled over a stool, taking a seat. “I can see why you would seek the help of medication.”

“Enough to see that I need it?”

“No.” He watched as you continued to cry. He took your hand gently and held it in both of his, causing you to look at him. “Lord Raiden visited while you were unconscious. He cured you of your family's illness."

You didn't know what he meant. Your brows knotted.

"Why did you not tell us you had heart disease?" He asked, his voice gentle. “I would have never let you run if I’d known…”

You pushed yourself up a bit, watching him. You hadn't had the disease that your family had… At least it hadn't been diagnosed yet. "What did he do?"

"He removed it. You no longer suffer from it."

"What?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You had heart disease? You knew you would eventually, but a small part of you had hoped you never would. But you did have it. Did. And Raiden had removed it? "How… How could he just remove it?"

"He can do many inconceivable things."

You stared at him. No… No way. That was impossible...

Liu gave you a smile as if he knew you were doubting him, doubting Raiden. "You're not going to die, Y/N," he said so tenderly, so sincere. Oh, God, he was telling you the truth!

You pulled your hand from his and covered your mouth. Tears streamed down your face as a tremendous weight had lifted off your shoulders. You sat up and fell into his arms. You sobbed like a little baby. You were going to be okay!

"Lord Raiden," you said, hardly containing your immense relief as you quickly climbed the steps to meet him in his sanctuary. You weren't sure how to say it, so you just said it. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

Raiden turned and lifted a white brow, but he was smiling. It was very refreshing to have you around. The monks were always a little too proper for his taste. "You're welcome, Y/N," he said, his voice hinting at his amusement.

"I… I don't know how, or why you did it. But really, thank you," you couldn't possibly thank him enough. It was like he gave you a brand new start at life.

He chuckled. "You're welcome, Y/N," he repeated.

You stopped before him. You could feel the electricity in his aura and it gave you a surge of energy. You smiled to him, then bowed your head politely like you'd seen the monks, Kung Lao, and Liu Kang do.

"Ah. I see you've been watching the monks," He suspected.

"Yes." You lifted your head to look back up at him. His glowing blue eyes were staring at you.

"How has your training been going?"

"Exhausting." You sighed. "And painful."

He grinned. "There is a saying you humans have. I think it would apply to you."

You thought for a second. "No pain, no gain?"

"Yes. That's it," he realized.

You gave him a small frown. This wasn’t the end of the pain.

"I assume you've decided to stay."

You nodded.

"Good."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I believe you just did."

It took you a moment to realize he made a joke.

He chuckled. You were a delight to play with. "What is your question?"

"Why me?"

Ah. Yes. That question. He'd been expecting that. He nodded. "Why not you?"

"... I don't have any experience."

"That's not entirely true."

"What do you mean?"

"You have plenty of experience standing up for yourself and others. You have even fought to keep others alive--others who were strangers to you. I believe Liu Kang said it quite accurately: You have a brave soul."

You fell silent. He was right. You had spent most of your life fighting. It just wasn't the fighting Mortal Kombat needed.

"Oh, but it is." He'd read your thoughts again. "There is more to Mortal Kombat than defeating your opponent. You must have something to fight for. Something more than glory…"

[domosakis]

[TARO-222] insatiable, pure love!

★ this is inspired by a hentai that was turned into a porn LOL i pretty much just rewrote it the whole first half but then i get bored of it and made it my own story at the end so sorry if its confusing but i spent a lot of time on it so i hope you like it!! ♡

✭ words: 1.9k !! cw: extreme dubcon, borderline noncon, i can't tell who is insane in this story, toxic relationship, assault, public sex, reader is feminized, lmk if i forgot smth omg im so sorry

‘i didn’t really want to do it… at the beginning.’

at least shotaro tells himself that, whether it’s true or not. he took the train home after practice like always but you were there. you looked so cute in your uniform but he couldn’t help but notice how sensual your body made you look. plaid skirt barely reaching the top of your thighs and a thin white blouse that might as well have been made with tissue.

he was addicted as soon as he saw you. he felt the need to go home right away, thoughts of making you scream plaguing his mind. stress, deadlines, the pressure of his academy… he deserved a little happiness right?

suddenly the train stopped and shotaro took the opportunity to dramatically fall towards you, your back against his. his hand pressed against your ass, moving your skirt up showing your panties to anyone who looked your way.

his inner monologue was just a stream of excuses he made to keep touching you. so soft… and even though he knows it’s not right he doesn’t make even an attempt to stop.

‘again… another idiot.’

you wondered how far he would go today, after all you did need to get home and start preparing dinner. you didn’t resist instead letting your mind wander to your daily chores and responsibilities, you just hoped your stop came soon.

suddenly you were yanked out of your thoughts, your body carelessly being tossed into the position he wanted and his hands came to grab at your breasts. he wasn’t gentle at all in the way he handled you but at least he wasn’t being completely rude. you’d let him do what he wanted as long as he stayed quiet. he’s not really hurting me like the others so what’s the worst that could happen?

shotaro let himself get brave, after all you weren’t denying him. if anything you were making it too easy. he let his hand slip under your panties to feel your cunt directly. he only grew more confident when he felt how wet you were.

you didn’t understand why you felt this way, you could say it was your body’s natural reaction but then how did you end up with this stranger in the love hotel down the street?

strange men doing what they wanted to you wasn't what you would call a foreign experience. maybe it was because you didn’t dress all that modestly, maybe it was your body or maybe you were just an easy target. whatever it was you definitely weren’t able to defend yourself from it and you ended up in a lot of rough situations.

this felt different though. okay sure so maybe he still molested you on the train without any communication but… he looked your age, and cute, and he didn’t call you mean names or hit you, and he even took you to this nice hotel instead of taking you against the urinal in a seedy bathroom!

maybe you needed to raise your standards.

whatever. it was too late now, this man (whose name you still didn’t now) had you laid underneath him, playing with your body however he wanted and you got the slight feeling he hadn’t touched anybody else in awhile at least. he took his time massaging your tits and all you could do was writhe beneath him.

“do you feel good?” shotaro asked you once he had your top half completely bare. you didn’t answer and turned your head to the side to avoid his gaze.

“no? your nipples are so hard though…” it was true your body was responding to everything he did but you didn’t want him to know that. still, it didn’t do much to deter him and suddenly his hands reached to pin yours next to your head, his mouth attaching itself to your breast.

you couldn’t help but moan out then, your hips bucking to meet his. your body had never been played with like this before and you needed more. he complimented your body and it made your heart swell in a twisted way.

“fuck. why are you so wet?” he laughed at you but you were distracted by his fingers playing with your clothed clit.

“you’re so cute, i need to see more.” you could barely see only feeling him spread your legs apart and taking off your panties roughly leaving only your skirt bunched around your waist. and before you knew it he was fucking into you.

‘this can’t be bad right?’ shotaro thought. ‘they’re so wet they must be enjoying this’

he could barely hold himself back grabbing onto the skirt around you and using it to fuck his dick into you harder. his thrusts were fast and unrelenting and you tried to say no but nothing comprehensible came out of your mouth.

you could already feel him deep within you and you thought you would cry once he pushed your leg to your chest, taking you sideways.

“no i can’t! i can’t!” you managed to cry out but it didn’t matter anyways, if anything it felt like it made him go harder. he let himself stay deep inside you for a bit, enjoying the way your body twitched around him before flipping you onto your stomach.

he took his time teasing you, rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt until he finally listened to you begging him to stop. you were so far gone at that point only able to focus on the feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. it was almost painful how fast he rubbed against you but his tip was reaching inside you so well.

you almost felt yourself losing consciousness before he pulled out, cumming across your tits and letting some hit your face. your body wouldn’t stop twitching and you realized you had cum as well, the feeling of your pussy clenching around nothing making you feel outrageously empty.

you expected to open your eyes to an empty room, left alone to clean yourself up and get home. instead you were very surprised to see the same man who had fucked you to the edge on his knees, his hands together begging for forgiveness.

“i’m so sorry! please forgive me!” you could hear him mumbling to himself and you almost felt bad for him.

“i’m so terrible, and i didn’t even use a condom… if you get pregnant… i’m so sorry!”

you had quite literally never been in this situation before and you were afraid the man was about to burst into tears.

“uhm… it doesn’t matter really.” you said before looking away. now shotaro was taken aback so you kept going before he could say anything.

“well it does matter, you shouldn’t assault girls but uhm…” you had no idea how to explain this.

“truthfully it’s really easy for me to be attracted to you, and i’ve gone through a lot worse…” you started going into detail about your past experiences and shotaro was growing increasingly confused and worried about your mental state.

“anyways today felt different, like you didn’t cum inside me! that’s a first and… i even came. i felt like you were gentle.” shotaros mind started to reel at the idea of the things you would let him get away with if you thought that was gentle and even when you’re praising him for doing less then the bare minimum he could only think of worse things. truly terrible.

you kept going.

“i won’t call the police and… i felt really good today.”

shotaro thought he was going to die, he just assaulted you and you were saying these things. he could feel himself getting hard again and before he could stop it he was back on top of you.

you liked it. someone like you was actually attracted to someone like him. he couldn’t pass the chance to take you again. he was going to play with you as much as you let him.

after shotaro had once again taken you how he liked he, once again, went through the five stages of grief begging for your forgiveness. you were too fucked out to comfort him at the point and he quickly left leaving you with fare for the ride home.

he decided to leave the whole incident behind him, citing it as a life lesson learned. (even though he should’ve known that assault was bad without having to do it but, whatever.) he promised himself that he would forget about that kind of thing and focus on dance. that is until he ran into you once again.

you greeted him first, before he could run away and that action alone confused him. you looked so cute just like the first time he saw you, but this time you were in a pink tank top and short denim skirt. equally as irresistible. you guys actually made small talk at first until shotaro couldn’t hold it in.

“what happened last night… would you want to do it again? i’ll be gentle!”

you smiled weakly. “if you say so.”

you gave him a blowjob in a bathroom stall before he took you back to his dorm.

in his defense it was very gentle, he took his time with you leaving hot kisses all over your body. you didn’t know what to do with yourself you’d never had sex like that before. he was sweet and thoughtful and you found yourself wanting to hear his voice and feel him more and more.

you wanted him to feel the same way about you. you wanted him to think about you for more than your body. you wanted him to crave every part of you. you felt yourself get lost in the feelings you were developing for him. you pressed your hands against his chest when he moved to enter you.

"please… i want to make you feel good too.” shotaro just stared at you slightly confused before he responded.

“you make me feel so good baby, i think i’m addicted to you.” it’s possible he said more but that’s all you needed to hear. you reached your arms around him and pressed yourself as close to his body as you could.

at that moment you could start to forget the circumstances in which you met. shotaro was so sweet to you now and he wasn’t mean to you then. would it be too much to hope for a relationship with this man? you could imagine letting him use you whenever he wants keeping him satisfied and he would be kind to you in return.

you wanted to kiss him so bad, you were staring at his lips and he thankfully took the hint grabbing your hair to pull you impossibly closer to him. it made you so happy. having shotaro as your boyfriend so no one else could mess with you. and he makes you feel so good…

shotaro loved the look on your face. you looked absolutely obsessed with him and that’s how he wanted it. he felt so lucky that you accepted him, any guilt that he previously felt was totally gone, now he just wanted to have you near him all the time. have you as his and make sure everyone knew.

you were perfect for him. so responsive and eager to please. you loved everything he gave you and he forgot anything else mattered when he saw you.

at some point he knew this was bad. the way you met and how you got to this point. but you didn’t care so why should he? he’ll take advantage of your past to make sure that you’re thankful for everything he does to you.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH53

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 53: Purgatory Reunion (V) {cw: attempted suicide, religious guilt}

There were too many demons. There were too many demons.

The space by his feet had already been filled with corpses, and the whole lake of fire was floating with the stench of sulfur and demon blood, but it seemed that no matter how he killed them, he couldn’t kill them all.

Ning Zhou watched the steady stream of demons, from the initial tension to the final numbness. He tried every demon with Maria's sword of judgment, and finally… tried himself.

After entering Purgatory, the burning wounds on his abdomen had become more and more painful, lost consciousness, and there was no divine power in the body that had once been filled with holy power to protect him. Then, the evil power had gradually returned to him.

Ning Zhou already knew what it was. For many years, his mother Maria's worried eyes and her awkward words have planted too many questions in his heart. Now, he finally understood.

When he was young, he had once asked her who his father was.

Maria had sat by the bed and watched the sunset, remaining silent for a long time.

He persisted in asking his mother again.

Maria took his little hand and gently answered him, "He was someone who was lost."

"It's a long, long road, and no one knows where the end is. Your father and I met unexpectedly. We walked along the same road, passed many beautiful sights along the way, and left many beautiful memories. We said goodbye briefly at a fork in the road and agreed that we would continue walking. But he got lost... He walked a long way and gradually forgot everything from the past. He gained power that ordinary people could not imagine, but he even forgot his name."

"Did he forget you, too?" the small Ning Zhou asked anxiously.

A faint smile appeared on Maria's pale face: "No, he hasn't forgotten me. He didn't forget me all his life. On the day we met again, he looked at me for a long time and asked me... ‘who are you?’"

Ning Zhou looked at her in confusion and asked, "’Who are you?’ Doesn’t that mean he forgot?"

But he didn't know that a man who had forgotten himself and everything else had found his true love in the vast sea of people. At that moment, no matter what question he asked, it didn't matter.

The fact that he could find this person had already shown that he had never forgotten his love.

　　&&&

In a dark room, a long table with more than a dozen seats was surrounded by people, each of whom silently looked at the magic mirror suspended on the table which displayed this scene of carnage from the bottom of his heart.

"Is it okay to let him kill like this again?" the Witch of Nothingness asked gently, with her eyes closed and her hands folded on her lower abdomen.

The Witch of Desperation, covered in a black robe, looked at the bright red lake of fire in the magic mirror, but there was no magic in her empty eyes: "It doesn't matter. As long as he can fully awaken his original force, it doesn't matter how much of that trash he kills."

"I'm afraid he won't want to. Don't forget, he was originally from the Holy See," the Witch of Nothingness warned.

"Haha, have you forgotten? His Majesty was also very close with the Holy See. To be precise, he and the Holy See’s Holy Nun was the object of his affections. Even when his original force had awakened fully and he forgot his whole family, he was still holding a Canon all day long. But wasn't it him who finally took us into the human world?" the Devil of Evil smiled, not sharing his colleagues’ worry.

The Witch of Resentment held her forehead in one hand: "Please, don't remind me of the days when I studied hard to please His Majesty with the scriptures. I have no interest in the things of the Holy See. I would rather boil my potions."

The Witch of Nothingness smiled faintly. "Have you ever noticed that all the Devil Kings have some abnormal hobbies? When you count them carefully, none of them looks like a normal demon. However, compared with the subordinates of the Devil of Slaughter, we should feel content."

The group of higher demons laughed meaningfully.

To the demons, following a Devil King did not mean that they agreed with that person’s personality, but that they followed the force that that person represented. Just like this group, who had tied their own destiny with the force of destruction, who had known both glory and utter ruin. In the twenty years after the fall of the old Devil, their power had also declined to even less than half of its heyday.

They were too eager to have a new Lord of Destruction and renew destruction’s original force. As for who that person was, they didn't care.

"I heard one thing. Our new Majesty had a lover whom he loves deeply, but he died. It's a pity that the Devil of Fraud killed him. If he was still alive..." The Devil of Evil smiled with interest. "How interesting it would be."

"Why did the Lord of Fraud kill her?" the Witch of Nothingness asked doubtfully.

"God knows. Oh, by the way, he’s a man."

"Isn't His Majesty a follower of the Holy See?" Even the Witch of Resentment was shocked. Those who had been around since the old Lord of Destruction were familiar with the Holy See’s teachings, and they were very clear about the Holy See’s attitude towards same-sex love.

"He was drained of the power of faith and expelled from the Holy See. Otherwise, do you think that with such little stimulation alone he could awaken the Devil’s force sealed in his body? That's the seal left by Maria." The Devil of Evil laughed very exaggeratedly. "Ah, for love, I am willing to abandon the glory of God! ...It is really a romance branded in blood."

"Unfortunately, it seems that this time I can't see the touching love story," the Witch of Resentment sighed faintly.

"Attention, His Majesty is beginning to show the form of a magic dragon. Record the time. It is... 8:47 in the evening. If you’re optimistic, he could be completely demonized within 24 hours. I can't wait." The Devil of Evil looked at the Devil's black body in the lake of fire and the human who had begun to show the Devil's characteristics, and couldn't help but smile with expectation.

"I hope nothing will happen in these twenty-four hours. Contact the Dragon Ant Queen and order that Purgatory be sealed off now, especially in the area around the lake of fire," the Witch of Desperation said. "Don't say it’s in our name... The seal on the Devil of Slaughter is suspected to be loose, other people will naturally associate this with the Devil of Power."

"I’m afraid that the Dragon Ant Queen can't be contacted. Considering the time, she is now busy with 'life events'," said the Devil of Evil.

"Then contact her maid, she still has the authority to deal with this matter," the Witch of Desperation said.

　　&&&

He was already in hell.

Ning Zhou looked at everything around him and suddenly had this thought.

After the crazy battle, there were countless bodies of demons floating in the lake of fire, some of which had been swallowed up by lava, and some of which were rushing towards the lower reaches of the valley with the burning current.

The air seemed to be filled with scorching flames, burning from his mouth to his heart, and even his soul was ignited.

He stood in Purgatory’s lake of fire, inexorably transforming from a man into a devil.

How fragile human will was, that it couldn't prevent a man from dying, or a saint from degenerating into a demon.

Sharp talons grew on his hands, and his skin became cold and rough like a cold-blooded animal. Black scales spread all over his body like a plague, and a pair of bat-like wings grew behind him. He couldn't control the power of destruction. He had lost his human form and turned into a huge magic dragon.

A devil among demons, a Devil King among devils, an evil magic dragon symbolizing destruction. According to legend, the ancient world was destroyed by such a magic dragon, which had woken from chaos, flew while spraying angry flames that spread in all directions, and destroyed the whole world.

This kind of magic dragon had really appeared once in history. Twenty-two years ago, when the Devil of Destruction had led the demons to break through the seal and come to the world of humans. His demon form was just such a magic dragon. He held the law of destruction, but also the madness of destruction, wishing to destroy the world at all costs.

What had been a vague feeling had finally come true. When the force of destruction awakened, he understood everything.

It was ridiculous. Those who fought against the demons eventually became demons. Those who stared long into the abyss finally fell into the abyss. The evil force sleeping deep in his body laughed at him: Your whole life is a joke.

Fate had taken away everything from him: his only relative, his beloved, and now it wanted to destroy his last treasure.

Everything about him as a "human" had ceased to exist. What else could he do? What else could he do for this miserable world? What was the value of his existence?

Immense grief struck his soul, and the desperate black dragon roared and wailed at the sky blocked by rocks in the lake of fire. The force of destruction even tore the rock wall and let the distant light fall into Purgatory.

He looked at the light dazedly, as piously as when he had prayed so many times.

"He will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.”

But why had fate given him such a cruel temptation? And he had been banished from his homeland; would God still help him and protect him?

Not anymore.

He was doomed to fall to such temptation.

Because God had given up on him.

Like the man who gave him half his blood, he would gradually lose himself to the original force of destruction, forget everything about himself, forget how he had once guarded the world, and finally bring endless pain and despair to this world.

Let it all end here.

Suicide was a sin, but if he lived, he would eventually bring more disasters and misfortunes to this scarred world.

He couldn't end the cruel fate imposed by this world, so at least he could not bring more suffering to this world.

Let him end it with his own hands!

In this lake of fire in Purgatory, holding warm memories, he would put a full stop to his life with this heart that still belonged to mankind.

But at that moment, he heard a voice that was too familiar to be a memory: "Ning Zhou—!!!”

He stopped at the edge of destruction and looked up.

Looked up to see the love of his life, returned to him.

-----

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[dreamingofaizawa]

Queen of Hades

Hades! Shouta Aizawa x Persephone! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 years or older, please refrain from reading any further. Thank you.

Warnings: TW: Incest, kidnapping, stockholm-ish, slow-burn ish, smut, praise kink and body worship if you squint, possessive during smexy time, overstimulation, squirting, dacryphilia, masturbation (not super descriptive tho), unprotected sex (pretty obvious but I’m putting it here anyway), creampie, aftercare, tiny bit of angst at the end but not too bad.

Word Count: 9.7k (Holy shit)

Author’s Note: *kinda long note here, you don’t really have to read it if you don’t want to*

Ohhhkaaaayyyyyy so this took a lot out of me. This is my longest fic so far, and honeslty I’m kinda proud of it. I’ve always been a sucker for Greek mythology, and I’ve always had a soft spot for Hades because he’s so sorely portrayed as a villain in mainstream media. He’s really not as bad as movies like Percy Jackson and Hercules make him out to be. Nothing in the mythology suggests that Persephone was unhappy, so I took it a ran with it. I also drew a bit of inspiration from Lore Olympus on WebToon (iykyk) for the parts regarding Demeter’s parenting.

The only three characters I really referenced to mha besides Aizawa is Hizashi Yamada (Hermes), Momo Yaoyorozu (Aphrodite), and Bakugo Katsuki (Ares). I went with Momo for Aphrodite solely because she seems like the only one Bakugo would willingly listen to since she’s on par with him at least in intelligence. I made Bakugo Ares because he’s the god of war, and tends to get angry easily. Their temperaments are similar, except for the fact that Ares can be pretty cowardly (sorry not sorry Ares).

Anyway, enjoy~

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The god sat on his throne, contemplating his lonely existence for what felt like the hundredth time. It may have been, considering he is immortal. At one time, he’d never given loneliness a second thought. He didn’t mind being this way. His job was important, even if melancholy, and he took it very seriously. Keeping Cerberus tame and entertained was probably the most difficult part, physically. The three-headed dog sat at the entrance to the underworld, guarding at all times to ensure any and all souls that passed through could never escape. And Hades simply ruled over this plane of existence, ensuring nothing was out of order and those kept in the depths of Tartarus remained there. 

However, in the last couple centuries the raven-haired god had been plagued with longing for someone to share his existence with. He no longer wanted to be alone. He craved someone to spend his time with, someone to think about and experience what mortals and gods alike called love. He wanted a queen. With the time he had on his hands, he prepared himself to scour the mortal realm as well as Olympus, to search under the invisibility his helm allowed him. Soon he was walking the realms, invisible to all creatures, observing, searching for his queen.

____

Being the daughter of Demeter wasn’t easy. The goddess hovered over you, making sure you were doing your duties properly as the goddess of vegetation. Being a goddess yourself was only made difficult by your mother. She needed perfection. You worked diligently to hone your powers, urging plantlife to grow to your will and learning about the time before the gods. You spent every day under her guidance, until she was finally satisfied with your performance. She’d finally stopped pushing you about a century ago, now simply watching with no commentary or instructions.

Today was finally the day you’d be able to have time completely alone outside your quarters. You wandered, stopping in a beautiful meadow. The sight made your heart swell with joy. Lush, soft grass stretched as far as you could see, flowers of all colors blanketing the area. From bright, vibrant sunshine yellow to deep cerulean and mulberry. Some of the lone flowers stood tall enough to touch your hips as you floated through the greenery. It was serene, peaceful. Your chest felt light, finally you were free from your mother’s harsh gaze to relax, all alone.

As you finally decided you’d return, you thought of the beauty of the area. It didn’t take long for you to find a few choice blooms to pick and carefully pluck them from the ground. Keeping them alive would be effortless from your amount of training. You’d keep them in your chambers, a memory of the feelings you experienced here. Satisfied with your choices, you took a final glance around you and began your return.

You only made it a few steps when suddenly the ground began to quake. Only a horse’s length from your feet, you watched wide-eyed as the ground split open to a huge chasm, chunks of earth tumbling into the void. A golden chariot pulled by four beautiful black stallions emerged from the fissure, pulling to an abrupt halt next to you. A raven-haired man stood proud in the chariot, one hand extended out toward you. His face showed no emotions, his dark obsidian eyes tired and sad, a scar curved under his right eye and light scruff adorning his chiseled jaw.

You shrunk away from his hand, unsure of his identity or the reason for such a surprise visit. “Who are you?” you ask warily, your eyes narrowing slightly. “I am Hades, god of death and wealth. Your mother would know me as Aidoneus.” Your eyes widened in shock. No wonder you didn’t know who this is. Hades rarely left the Underworld, and hasn’t in the past thousand or so years according to what you’d heard from your mother. Why was he here of all places? Sensing your apprehension, he reached out for you once more.

“Please, my sweet, come with me to the Underworld.” Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. You weren’t entirely sure why the god of death wanted you, but you didn’t want to find out. Shaking your head, you took a few tentative steps backward. “I...don’t want to go with you…” The idea of abandoning your duties was absurd. You were a goddess, and your mother would be absolutely furious if she found out you’d gone with Hades and vanished to the underworld. Not to mention how your family might feel about your sudden disappearance.

A loud cry of your name had you snapping your head toward the source. A beautiful woman donning golden armor wielding a spear was sprinting toward you, her brown curls pulled tight into a woven plait down her back. “Athena!” You called to her as you began to run, but you were lifted off your feet before you could take a second step. In a blur of motion you found yourself in Hades’ golden chariot, a strong arm around your waist holding you tight to the god’s side. He peered down at you with those deep dark eyes as the chariot descended into the chasm.

“I am sorry, my love. But coming with me was never your choice to make.” You looked upward, watching as the earth closed above you. Panicked, you struggled in Hades’ grasp, but he was too strong for you to escape. “Please, don’t fight me.” You shot the god a glare that could kill, tears streaming down your face. “I never asked to be taken! Why? Why have you stolen me away?” A heaved sigh escaped his lips. “I will explain, my love, but for now,” he brings his other hand up and taps your forehead with two fingers, “Sleep.” Your eyelids droop, and your consciousness fades to black.

____

He had hoped you’d come with him willingly. Of course, he knew the chances of that happening were rather slim. Confiding in Zeus about his newfound feelings for you may have been a bad idea for him, considering he was the one to come up with this ridiculous plan. The god of the sky was supposed to be distracting most of the other gods and goddesses with a meeting, though it isn’t a surprise that Athena had managed to slip away. He was rather lucky to have been able to escape Athena without direct confrontation. He may be a powerful god, but Athena was the goddess of war strategy and wisdom. She could probably fight Zeus himself and find a way to come out victorious.

But now, as he gaze down at your sleeping form in his bed, he can’t help but feel it was worth the trouble. You were absolutely gorgeous, a beauty to rival Aphrodite, though he’d never say it aloud for fear of the woman’s jealous revenge. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted ever so slightly with your breath. He wants so badly to kiss you, to hold you and cherish you, to worship you the way you should be. But he wants you to accept him and love him of your own accord. He’d made that decision from the first time he laid eyes on you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving you to rest.

____

It felt like you hadn’t even been asleep for a second, like you had only just closed your eyes. But you definitely weren’t in the chariot anymore, and Hades was nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you took in your surroundings. You lay on a large bed covered in fine pelts and furs on the wall furthest from the door. The room itself is large enough to fit at least three chariots and room to spare. Cool blue floated around the room, candles inset in the walls lit with cerulean fire, emitting a soft glow and shadows dancing in the light. The room was relatively empty, save for the armor on the wall along with a two-pronged scepter and a helm. There was no question in your mind where you were.

The large wooden door creaked as it opened, the King of the Underworld himself standing in the doorway. You glared as he made his way over to you and sat on the edge of the bed. “Why am I here, Hades?” You absolutely meant for the edge to come through in your voice, letting out your aggression in the most passive way possible. You hoped the tinge of fear you felt hadn’t shown through as well. As much as you didn’t like being taken against your will and hated Hades for it, you didn’t want to get into a fight with the god of death.

“Please, my name is Shouta. The mortals call me Hades. And you’re here because I’ve fallen in love with you, sweet goddess.” His voice was gentle, apologetic even. “The kidnapping was Zeus’s idea. I only went along with it because I knew my sister would never let me have you if I asked. I know how she is with her children.” You gave a small huff and pulled your knees into your chest, eyes still on the god. “Talking to me first was always an option, you know.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “My apologies. I should have talked to you first.” 

Apprehensively, you asked the question you were sure you already knew the answer to. You tore your eyes away from him, suddenly the furs underneath you were the most interesting thing in the world. “When can I go back?” His hand appeared in front of you, and you didn’t flinch or move away as his calloused palm cupped your face gently, making you look up into his dark eyes. “I’m sorry, my love. But I can’t let you return yet.” You gave a small nod, and he pulled his hand from your face as he stood. “Walk with me?”

His eyes were hopeful, waiting for the answer he wanted. If you declined, would he force you to go with him anyway? You squeezed your knees further into you, giving an indirect ‘no’ to test his reaction. He let out a small sigh, “I see. If you need anything, you can call for me.” He moved to walk out of the room, not halfway to the door when you stopped him. “Actually...um...I think a walk would be okay.” Slowly, you got up and walked over to him, and he gave a small smile before leading you out of the room.

The underworld was nothing like you thought it would be.

Hades - or rather, Shouta - led you on a tour of all three realms of the Underworld on the boat steered by Charon, the ferryman that delivered souls to the three parts of the Underworld. The Elysian Fields were gorgeous, mirroring daytime in the mortal realm with lush greenery and bright sunshine. This part was reserved for the mortals that were exceptionally heroic in their lifetime. Good people who lived lives giving to the people that needed it with no expectation to be repaid. All the souls here were happy, either playing or relaxing with each other in this afterlife.

The next part was the Asphodel Fields. This realm was darker, stuck in a deep limbo but beautiful all the same. A bright full moon sat high in the sky, the ground littered with luminous teal crystals. These souls were shadows of themselves, normal mortals that made mistakes and loved and lived their lives as best they could. They now live a mirrored life here, as a shadowed version of themselves. It was not a sad existence, but one that the mortal souls could be satisfied with.

As you rode the boat with Shouta on the river Phlegethon toward Tartarus, your body began to shake and your breath shallowed. You could feel the foul energy seeping into the air the closer you got. This was where the worst of the worst were kept prisoner. This realm locked a wicked soul in a loop of punishment and suffering. He looked down at you and wrapped an arm securely around your waist, and you peered up into his black orbs. “Tartarus is not a place I enjoy taking you, but I do intend on making you my Queen. You will need to see it even from a distance. I promise, you are safe.”

With a nod, he turns his attention back toward the bow. The closer you got to Tartarus, the more you began to feel fear. Despite the river of fire and the heat pouring from the banks, your body shook. The sheer bloodlust, anger, resentment, and malice pouring from the shoreline was enough to make your heart race. You may be a goddess, but you are young and weak compared to the god next to you. You feel yourself pressing into Shouta more as you float past the shore. The sights before you are horrific, if only because of the souls that are there.

You’d learned about the war between the gods and the titans early on in your life, and now here you were seeing the titans for yourself. They were enormous. Even on their knees, bound in chains thicker than the largest tree trunk, made from Adamantine the metal of the gods, they towered like mountains. They were monstrous, some with more heads than you could count, some with extra limbs, some with animalistic traits and some purely demonic. The sound of the chains rattling rang through the entire realm as a few lunged out toward the boat, only to be stopped short by the chains. 

You jumped several times, fear consuming you. Shouta held you close, his arm tight around your shoulders as you clung to him. Confidence and power radiated off his form as he raised his other arm, the chains around the titans tightening and drawing into the ground with a flick of his wrist. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. “You are safe, my love. They cannot hurt you.” You calmed a bit with Shouta next to you, securing you to him and keeping you safe.

The ferry floated along and soon you were out of the realm of Tartarus, back at the palace grounds that the god lived in. The building was beautiful, built like the temples the mortals built for the gods. However, the stone it was made from was not white but black, polished to a beautiful shine that reflected the cool blue glow from the misty realm. This area was not in any of the three parts of the afterlife. It was the god of death’s personal realm. 

The large temple sat high on a rocky hill, a staircase carved into the cliff face that led down to the five rivers that course through the underworld, all of them parallel each other until they branched off. The realm itself was magical in its own right. It seemed to be an enormous cave, huge stalactites hung from the ceiling, which was shrouded in deep blue mist that sparkled and mimicked the night sky. It was so high even the largest and lowest stalactites hung miles above the ground. The ground was all black earth, void of vegetation but full of life all the same, the scent of upturned earth and rain filling your senses. 

You ogled at the beauty of it all, despite the darkness. You hadn’t taken the time to observe before the tour, but now that you could you almost didn’t want to look away. You felt the warmth of Shouta’s body as he pressed against your back, a hand gently taking your chin and directing your head up to look at the misty abyss. “Would you like to know what sparkles through the mist?” You gave a small nod. Though the mist was thick, there was something sparkling from far above it that made up the constellations in the sky of the mortal realm.

He stretched an arm out, palm up as if to catch something. The star you recognised as Polaris shone brightly then faded, and the glimmering speck fell from the fog, landing square in Shouta’s palm. It was a large gem, sparkling against the darkness. You traced your fingers along its ragged edges, and it floated back up to its place when you dropped your hand. It was then you remembered that Hades was not only the god of death. He was the god of wealth, of earthly riches, precious gems and metals that mortals sought to obtain.

Shouta’s voice was smooth and deep in your ear, his body still pressed up to yours. “Let us go inside, my love. It is time to rest. Tomorrow, I will take you to see Cerberus.” You let your body relax into him, relishing in the safety of his embrace. Giving a small nod, you let the raven-haired god guide you into the palace. He led you to a hot spring in the back of the palace, the large steaming pool set deep in the ground and illuminated by blue flame candles. He left you alone to bathe, and you relaxed into the water as you reflected on the recent developments.

Despite kidnapping you, the god clearly harbors no ill intentions toward you. He’d even revealed that the whole thing was, in fact, your father’s idea. He’s kind, sweet, nothing like the angry and cruel god the mortals seem to fear. And he radiates power, his strength clear even when he first appeared to you in the field. He suppresses his overwhelming prowess around you, you’d realised. It became clear just how powerful a god he is when he took you through Tartarus. As powerful as he is he’s gentle toward you, compassionate and caring, dare you say loving. He did claim to have fallen in love with you.

Still, you had duties as a goddess, though your mother was more than capable of handling it on her own. The only reason you had duties is because you are the daughter of gods. You wondered briefly what she was thinking right now, if she knew you were gone, if Athena had informed her of your current placement. You would have to wait to find out. Until then, you would enjoy your time here. The Underworld is beautiful, and mostly peaceful, disregarding Tartarus. If Shouta means to make you his Queen, maybe you could learn to love the man as you’ve come to love the realm he rules. 

And of course, the god himself was rather handsome. His deep obsidian eyes held eons of emotion. Strength, power, loneliness and longing. And when he looked at you, you could tell he was sure he loved you, his eyes full of pure adoration. His long raven locks framed his face perfectly, the onyx crown he wore nearly invisible in his dark tresses. His jawline was strong, sharp, his ivory skin seemingly glowing blue in the atmosphere of the Underworld. The robes he wore hung loose around his frame, but it wasn’t hard to tell his body was strong and well built. He was a god, after all. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see him in all his glory.

You finished your bath and fell asleep in the same bed as the god, your backs to each other and plenty of room between you. You only knew him for a single day, but you trusted him with your immortal life. When you woke up, Shouta took you to see Cerberus like he said he would. The dog sat proud just inside the entrance, the gate closer to resembling a cave entrance than an actual gate. Cerberus had his own wide perch above the ground to look down and watch the entrance closely, his job as gatekeeper being taken just as seriously as Shouta took his job as king of the Underworld.

Reaching the river bank, Shouta stepped out and held his hand out to you, helping you out of the riverboat after him. Soon the two of you were approaching the three-headed beast, and the closer you got the more you understood just how large Cerberus is. Sitting on his haunches, his shoulders towered far above your head. You’d have to climb up onto his back to reach his three heads. As the two of you approached, the hound turned his heads and bowed low, muzzles nearly in the dirt with a low growl emanating from him. 

Shouta, with a hand at the small of your back, walked up to the beast and placed a hand on the middle head, slowly petting up and down in between his eyes. You could hear the whoosh of his large tail behind him. He may be the guard dog to the Underworld, but he was still a dog, you supposed. “Hello, old friend. Meet your future Queen.” The head closest to you lifted, a large huff blowing in your face from his snout, before his nose twitched as he sniffed at your hair and face. You giggled, the air tickling your neck and face, as you reached up and held the large head in your hands and kissed above his nose.

“Such a sweet boy, aren’t you?” The hound’s tail swished harder and one of his front paws tapped against the ground, his body almost dancing at the praise and attention. Mindlessly, you let your hand pet at his fur as you observed the other two heads. Each one seemed to have a different personality. The one you were giving attention to was happy and jumpy, constantly sniffing and licking you. The one in the center was calm and collected, stoic even, eyes trained on the entrance as Shouta pet it. The furthest from you seemed angry, a low growl a near constant as his gaze was focused on the cave entrance. 

“Show her a little respect won’t you? It won’t kill you.” The angry head huffed before turning its gaze to you, giving a short bow, and with a snarl turning his attention back to the entrance. As interesting as guarding the gate seems, the only one that actually entered through the gate was Hermes. You watched as the god zoomed in and out, delivering souls to the dock, sending those who could pay off with Charon as he rowed them to their respective placements. You doubted any soul would be able to leave. They’d be spotted and caught easily, if Cerberus had anything to say about it.

Several months passed while you were down in the Underworld, staying by Shouta’s side through whatever he needed to do. No matter how many times you travelled through the underworld with Shouta, you never got enough of the beauty of it all. Sometimes he’d take you through the Asphodel Fields, deep into the crystal forests.  He walked with you through the fields with a warm hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you where you had yet to roam. The longer you stayed, the more you found yourself wanting to be around the god.

Any time he needed to visit Tartarus, you’d join him, and he’d keep you tucked into his side the whole time. You felt safe in his hands. Lately you’d been cuddling closer to him at night, longing for his embrace. His rather thick arms would curl around your waist and shoulders, pulling you tight to his chest. You'd wake up to the god’s deep obsidian eyes on your face, his gaze soft as he told you how beautiful you are or how thankful he was that he could wake up next to you. He’d leave soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks, thick fingers rolling shapes into your skin. 

It was those little intimate moments that had you falling, very possibly in love, with the King of the Underworld. When he’d run his hands down your arms and whisper his affections. When he’d teach you about the workings of the Underworld while you pet Cerberus’s head. In the bath when he’d wash you after a long day, never advancing further than a chaste kiss to your shoulder and neck. The lingering, longing, loving gaze he set on you while you rode the riverboat to the different realms. In no time at all you’d realized you’re happy here.

Now, you both stood at the gate with Cerberus once again. One head was nuzzling up against you, the other two focused on the entrance as you and Shouta pet the happy dog. You’d learned that while the center wasn’t averse to physical touch, he preferred to be left alone. The angry one had become less growly and aggressive toward you, which you supposed was progress. Though you were sure if you ever attempted to leave the Underworld, Cerberus would stop you regardless. Not that you wanted to leave.

A whoosh of wind rushed past you and suddenly Hermes was standing on the other side of Shouta, a wide grin plastered on his face as he leaned on the god’s shoulder. “What’s up, Sho?” His hypnotic green eyes wandered over to you and his eyebrows raised as his grin widened. “So this is miss Persephone, is it?” He held a hand out for you to shake. “It’s good to meet you.” Tentatively, you reached out and took his hand, shaking it before you asked the question burning in your mind. 

“Sorry, but why did you just call me Persephone?” A moment of realization hit the blonde. “OH! Yeah, you’ve been called Persephone by the mortals, as well as the rest of Olympus. The Bringer of Destruction. Fitting for the Queen of the Underworld, isn’t it?” Your breath quickened and eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Why would they call me that? I haven’t done anything!” Shouta narrowed his eyes at the god. “Hizashi, what’s this about?” He leaned away with his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, it wasn’t me. When Demeter found out her daughter was missing she abandoned her duties up in Olympus. The mortal realm has slowly been changing ever since she left, slowly becoming cold and barren. It’s not pretty. Your other siblings are trying their best to uphold Demeter’s abandoned chores but...they aren’t their mother.” Shouta slipped an arm over your shoulder, tucking you into his side, and you clung to him in your increasingly distressed state, relishing in the safety his arms often held for you. The two gods talked as you tried to ground yourself.

“How much does Demeter know?” A high-pitched hum rang from the blonde. “Well Zeus, Athena and I are the only ones who know you took her. I believe Hestia, Hera, and Poseidon know she’s here but not how she got here, and the rest just don’t know anything. Zeus made Athena swear not to say anything, but considering she’s his favorite it may be only a matter of time before she confesses to Demeter with no repercussions. There’s also a possibility Aphrodite and Eros know for reasons that should be obvious to you.”

While they spoke your mind was reeling. You never thought anything of your mother’s hovering, but she’d abandoned her duties up in Olympus just because you’d vanished. What did that even mean? And now that the mortal realm was suffering, would you be punished for it? Would you be blamed for your mother’s absence? 

____

“Do I have to go back to Olympus?” Shouta could hear the slight panic and sadness in your voice, and it made his grip around you just a bit tighter. Both their eyes flicked over to you, Shouta’s gaze soft and concerned. Hermes - Hizashi - gave a kind smile. “So far, nothing’s been decided. Zeus is pretty adamant about keeping this whole thing discreet, so for now you can stay here with Sho.” You seemed to relax in his arms, but Shouta could tell you were still stressed about the whole situation. 

“Thanks ‘Zashi.” The blonde nodded, then zipped away and returned to his duties as the messenger god. Shouta looked back down at you and he could see the tension in your face. Eyebrows slightly scrunched, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you chewed on it, crossed arms and hands clutching your biceps. He’d almost call it adorable if he couldn’t feel just how stressed you were, leaning your body into him like a cat seeking shelter from the rain. His arm slipped down to your waist as he guided you back to the ferry. 

It didn’t take long for the both of you to be back at the temple. He sat you on the bed then kneeled in front of you, rough hands gently holding your own, calloused thumbs massaging circles into your skin. “My love, you are upset.” He watched and listened as you poured out your worries, all of them fears of whether or not the mortal realm would survive, if you were to be punished for your mother’s actions, if your mother would punish you herself for disappearing. He reassured you that he wouldn’t let anyone punish you for anything, that he’d protect you with his life. 

He had already vowed to himself never to let anything happen to his precious Queen. He is not a violent god, but he would hunt down any soul that dared so much as a wrong thought about you, vowing that there would be hell to pay. If he ever let something happen to you, he swore he’d never leave the Underworld again, and instead trap himself in Tartarus indefinitely. Eventually, he would express his devotion to you, his undying love and loyalty, but for now all you needed to know was that you were safe with him.

His heart nearly skipped a beat when your eyes filled with tears, voice breaking as you cried about not wanting to leave the Underworld, not wanting to leave his side. You’d grown to love the realm for all it had, as well as the man who ruled over it. He knew as well as you did that you would eventually have to return to Olympus, and there was no guarantee you would ever come back. Well, there was one, but he would never suggest it to you for it was almost cruel. It kept you connected to this realm, like a chain to an anchor.

But then you had to go and ask.

____

You could see the turmoil behind his dark irises. He was thinking, and thinking hard. “Sho...is there any way for me to come back?” His jaw clenched, something you’d come to recognize as a signal of stress for the god of death. “What do you mean, love? You could return any time you like.” You squeezed his hands, willing him to listen. “I mean permanently, Shouta. If somehow my mother refuses to let me return, is there a way to tie me to you? To make sure I need to return no matter what?” 

His usually calm features twisted in surprise, eyes wide and jaw clenched tight, his hands gripping your own. But the shock only lasted a moment before he was relaxing again. “My love, there is a way. But it is not kind to you, to force you to return here.” The sadness at that statement was clear in his eyes. He didn’t want to think of it, but the possibility for you to never want to return to him was there. Your eyebrows furrowed deeply and you ripped your hands away from his, planting your palms on either side of his face and forcing him to look deep into your eyes.

“I want to return here, Shouta, to you. Look into my soul and tell me I’m lying to you.” His dark onyx stared into you, and you stared back. He would know your sincerity, whether he wanted to or not. He had to know how much you truly cared, how far you’d fallen since that day in the meadow when he scooped you up into his golden chariot. You had to make him know. He didn’t protest when you began to pull him closer, leaning in until your lips ghosted over each other.

You’d never been this close before. He never advanced on you, never made you uncomfortable, never forced anything on you. He refused to force even the smallest things on you, like placing a hand on your waist or your shoulder, always asking permission and making sure you were okay first and foremost. Maybe it was just because of how gentle he is with you, or the fact that he’s the sweetest deity you’d met. Maybe it was the work of Eros. But you were no doubt in love with Shouta.

When your lips connected it was like a wave of heat crawled over your body, a spark igniting flame that rolled through your veins. You fit perfectly together, molding to each other in a sweet, passionate kiss. His own hands found purchase on your waist and neck, gentle caresses holding you close. Finally pulling away, you were both breathless, sucking in air through shuddered breaths and adrenaline. His voice came through heavy and thick with swirling emotions. “There is a way to keep you here, but will you wait and think about the decision before it is made?”

You knew what he was doing. He was preparing himself for what, in his mind, is an inevitable rejection from you. You also understood that he was taking you greatly into consideration, thinking about you and your happiness first. And that’s why you knew you loved him. Because you cared about him before yourself. Loving each other more than yourselves was something you shared. “Tell me now, my King, and I promise I’ll think about it.”

He sighed, but you couldn’t tell if it was from relief, sadness, or stress. Regardless, he explained to you the magic of the Underworld, and that if you were to eat a pomegranate seed from the realm you’d be compelled to return, whether you wanted to or not. You gave a nod and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Shouta. I will think about it. And you’ll know my answer when it comes time for me to return to Olympus.” He nodded, clearly grateful that you’d heed his words. However you fully intended to eat a seed when asked to return to Olympus. You had already made up your mind, and nothing could change it.

____

Waking up every day to see your face was a blessing for the god of death. He loved that you’d become comfortable with him, that you curled into his side while you slept. He adored your half-lidded, sleepy eyes when you first woke up in the morning. He adored your mussed hair before you combed it out and pulled it into a loose braid down your shoulder. Everything you did made him adore you even more, everything about you was the most beautiful thing to him. 

He loved all of you, all that you did and said, every little detail of your existence. And he made sure you knew, whispering sweet nothings as he held you in bed, praising your beauty while he bathed with you. Every morning he watched your gorgeous eyes flutter open and made known his gratitude for being able to hold you so close. You never said much yourself, but he’d never have it any different. Your movements were enough for him. He lived for the little gestures and physical touches. The way you’d cling to him while you were out, how you’d hug him close at night. How you’d lean into his chest while you bathed together, or run your fingers through his hair when you relax in bed.

But he hated what you did to him, when you’d get close and squish your body up against him, when he felt your soft skin under his rough palms. He hated the feelings being with you unlocked, the filthiest parts of his mind coming to light. He wanted to ruin you in the best way, to make you his forever. He wants to worship every inch of you, and watch as you unravel beneath him. Late at night while you were fast asleep he’d gaze at your body, eating up every bit of exposed skin and letting his imagination run rampant. Tears falling down your face from pure overwhelming pleasure, sweet sounds pouring from your kiss-swollen lips, legs quivering and fingers clawing at the bed beneath you.

Tonight was no different as his eyes raked over your slumbering form. He could feel himself hardening just at the sight of you, and it drove him insane. He was slightly disappointed in himself for allowing something like lust to affect him so heavily. But it did, and he had to take care of it.

____

You were only half awake when you heard a soft curse and felt Shouta shift in bed behind you. When you rolled over to curl into him, you confirmed he wasn’t there and it woke you up rather quickly. Still a tiny bit groggy, you got up and went to search for him through the temple. Really, there weren’t very many places to search. It wasn’t long before you ended up outside the bathing room, but something stopped you before you stepped through the curtained entryway. 

You could hear heaved breaths and soft curses from inside, the light slosh of water muffling a lot of the sounds. The sounds which were coming from none other than Shouta. You slowly pulled the curtain back, just barely, and peeked in. The sight before you made your thighs squeeze together and heat build in your stomach. The god was leaning on the edge of the small pool, head thrown back and his lower half below the water. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was doing, with his hand submerged and the muscles in his arm flexing and pumping slowly.

You’d be lying if you denied how much you wanted him. You craved him in the worst way, wanted to touch his bare skin and feel the muscles in his back tense under your fingers. You wanted to see him lose himself and ravage you, to watch as he let his more primal instincts take over. The only problem you saw was how you would approach the subject, especially when your lustful feelings were becoming very hard to ignore. But now, you had just found the perfect opportunity.

Shouta’s back was mostly turned toward the curtains, so it wasn’t hard for you to slip into the room unnoticed. Silently, you padded up behind him and knelt. He was still pumping himself below the water, whispering filthy words and your name under heavy breaths. You reached out and grabbed his shoulders, making him jump, but you quickly shushed him. “It’s me, my King.” He froze, his entire body tensing and his shoulders rising with shuddered breaths. 

“I-I’m sorry, my love...I-” You released your grasp and leaned over to look in his eyes, silencing him. “No, Shouta. Don’t be sorry. We may be deities but we are afflicted with emotion, same as any mortal.” Leaning down, you kissed and nipped below his jaw. “Come to bed, and we can help each other with those emotions.” He turned his head to you, brows slightly furrowed and concern laced in his voice. “You don’t have to help me, sweet girl. You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Did I not just say we’d help each other?” Surprise was evident on his face as he gazed up at you from the water. You leaned close to his face, lips just grazing each other, and stared deep into his eyes. “If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have offered.” Just as he pressed forward, you leaned back and stood, leaving the god shocked and wanting more. “I’ll be in bed, if you feel like joining me.” You swayed your hips a little more as you disappeared behind the curtains, a small tease to lure the god.

Back in the room, you stood at the foot of the bed, back to the door as you waited for him. You made it abundantly clear what you wanted, that you knew what you were asking for, and knew what you were offering. The door creaked open, and you could feel the heat of Shouta’s gaze on your body. He was on you nearly instantly as the door shut, his hands roaming your body and lips ghosting over your neck. His voice was raspy, heavy with lust and want. “Are you sure you want this?” You pushed your hips back into him, feeling his hardness through your thin robes. 

A sighed ‘yes’ passed your lips, and it was all the confirmation the god needed. His hands came up and pulled the fabric off your body, the cloth wrapped around his waist following soon after. His thick fingers pinched and pulled at your body, relentless in their attack on your skin. His touch floated over you, sending electricity buzzing through you. Lust built like a wildfire, spreading and burning your blood as it coursed through your veins. You leaned back into him, pressing yourself against his strong body as he peered down yours and left kisses on your neck and shoulder. Your body felt impossibly hot, arousal pulling you deep into him as he traced your body with feather light touches.

Suddenly he grasped your hips tight, turning you and pushing you backward onto the bed. He stayed standing, and you both took a good look at each other for the first time. Yes, you often bathed together, but your back was always to his chest, and the lower halves of your body were submerged. He never touched you anywhere other than your back, shoulders and hair when he helped to wash you, and you never turned to look at him. But now, as you looked up, there was no doubt in your mind you were looking at a god. 

He looked as if he was sculpted from marble, ivory skin pulled taut over chiseled muscles. Scars littered his body, discolored lines carved into his skin, each holding a story. Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes landed on his cock. You may be a goddess, but if you weren’t prepared, he would undoubtedly destroy you. You felt more than heard the deep chuckle he let out, a devilish smirk set on his lips. “Don’t worry, little one. I won’t break you,” you lifted your eyes to meet his, “Yet.” You swallowed thickly, anticipation building in your chest. He climbs up and slots himself between your legs, leaning over you as his hair hangs in curtains around your face, drawing your eyes to the man above you.

“My love, you can tell me to stop any time.” The look in his eyes told you just how serious he was. He would do anything you asked of him without a second thought. You gave a nod and looped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a deep, sweet kiss. Your bodies pressed into each other, your skin burning against his as every cell in your body longed for his touch. Both your tongues poked out and melded together, tasting and savoring each other while his hands roamed down your body and your fingers massaged into his scalp. 

When he finally pulled away you both panted, hot breaths fanning over each other’s face. One of his hands trailed down and gripped your thigh, fingers digging into your plush flesh as he ventured toward your heated core. He gathered the slick at the apex of your thighs, groaning at both how wet you had become and the little breathy moan you let out as he pushed a thick digit into your sopping folds. Soon he was adding a second, the burn quickly subsiding into pleasure as his thick fingers curled and scissored, stretching you and preparing you for his cock.

The pleasure was intense for you, never having experienced it like this before. In the 200 years of your life you’d never lain with a man, but there was nothing your mother could do to stop you from learning to pleasure yourself. She knew nothing about what you did alone in your chambers. But this was something different entirely. Shouta’s fingers reached deeper than yours could, stroking every sensitive spot inside you that you’d never known existed. Your legs shook as that familiar coil built in your abdomen, though much faster than you could build it on your own. 

Shouta cooed praises into your ear, that knot beginning to fray the more he focused his attention on that gummy spot on your walls. His thumb slick with your juices reached up and rubbed at the little nub between your folds, and it only took a few tight circles for you to fall apart on his fingers with a moan. He drew out your orgasm, curling his fingers into you until you were choking on sobs from the overwhelming pleasure, your thighs trying to clamp down on his hand and nails digging crescent shapes into his wrist.

You whimpered as he pulled his fingers from you, moaning softly as you watched him suck your essence off his fingers with a lewd groan. He leaned down and pulled you into another heated kiss, and you could taste yourself on his lips. “Are you ready for me?” His breaths are heavy, hands gripping your hips tight, jaw set as he tries to compose himself. “Yes, my love. I’m ready.” He kisses you softly as he pushes into you slowly, swallowing up the little mewls dripping from your lips. One hand is rubbing at your swollen clit and the other toying with your breast to distract you from the stretch of his thick cock.

Your own hands are dragging down his back, trying to ground yourself as the god sank all the way into your cunt, stilling as he bottoms out completely. You’re both taking heaving breaths as your walls flutter, adjusting to him. Your legs are quaking and you mewl softly, tugging at his hair. “Please, Shouta, move.” He pulls his hips back and slowly thrusts back in, dragging the head of his cock along your sensitive walls deliciously. He starts a slow pace, languidly driving himself deep inside you. He leans down and kisses at your neck, the angle change making you throw your head back and moan. 

You purposely clench down on him, and he bucks his hips up into you with a curse under his breath. His hands come back to your hips, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he growls. He pulls back until only the tip of his cock sits inside you, and snaps his hips forward, punching all the air from your lungs as he sets a brutal pace. Shouta doesn’t react as your nails claw furiously at his back, only yanks your body into him as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. Deep guttural growls and moans pour from his lips, the sound of wet skin slapping skin and the sweet, salty smell of sex permeating the room.

The little air you’re able to suck in is expelled in whines and sobs, fat tears streaming from your eyes as they roll back in your skull. Your mind was so far gone with pleasure, your entire body shivering and shaking as calloused fingers rub your clit, sending you head first into a powerful orgasm. His growls deepened as he kept himself from his own release, pounding into you with reckless abandon. His voice was raspy and breathless and one hand gripped your chin, tilting you to face him as he slowed his rutting. “That’s right, little goddess. Cry for your god, for your King. Tell me, who do you belong to?”

You took a moment to breathe through a sob, barely able to think with the overwhelming sensations. He was still thrusting his hips into you, slowly, dragging along your fluttering walls and gripping your face ever so slightly harder. “Answer me, sweet girl. Who do you belong to?” He punctuated the question with a sharp snap of his hips, stealing the air from your lungs before you gasped it back in. “You! I belong to you Shouta!” He’s pounding into you again, his hand moving to squeeze gently at your neck as he drives his cock deep into you over and over again.

“Yes, you’re mine. All mine forever. My goddess, my Queen, my wife, my love.” He lets out a loud moan, rubbing at your clit furiously. “Cum for me again, pretty thing. Cum.” Your entire body thrashes with the intensity of your orgasm, electricity jolting through you, your body answering Shouta’s command as if it knew you belonged to him, just as you both had said. You scream a moan as clear liquid splashes over his thighs and abdomen, and he fucks into you relentlessly as he chases his own release. With a long, low growl he shoves himself up against your cervix, pumping his thick seed into you and painting your insides white.

He keeps his cock buried deep inside you as he wraps his arms under your waist and rolls over onto his back, holding you tight to him as you lay boneless on his chest. You’re panting heavily, a sheen of sweat covering the both of you as he rubs his palms up and down your back. Fatigue tugs at your mind, your eyelids drooping as your breathing finally evens out. You feel Shouta shift your body with ease, pulling himself out of you with a hiss and lifting you into his arms. 

You nuzzle into his chest as he walks, and soon you’re in the warm water of the bath, sitting on the submerged ledge between Shouta’s legs and leaning back into his chest. You can feel the water running down your arms as his hands cup and pour it over you. His rough hands are gentle as they run over your body, slowly cleaning you and massaging your aching muscles. You’re drifting in and out of consciousness, barely registering being carried once again before being laid down on the bed again. Shouta’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest as you relax in his hold.

Barely conscious, you kiss his chest lightly, getting a kiss to your temple from the god. His deep voice is tired, but happy, gravelly from earlier. “I love you, (y/n).” You echo the sentiment, barely a whisper, and somewhere in your mind you wonder if he heard you. The question vanishes as quick as it had appeared, and you drift off to sleep.

*

***About 2 months later***

*

It was early, much earlier than you’d normally wake up, when someone showed up at the temple. You were in bed with Shouta, and he awoke at the presence of other gods. Yes, gods. The both of you went to see who it was that garnered his attention. Hizashi - Hermes - stood at the top of the staircase with another god and a goddess. You recognized both. The god with spiky blonde hair and eyes red as blood was Ares, god of war. The goddess had hair black as Shouta’s pulled high on the back of her head. The front of her red dress draped low, down to her navel, her shapely figure complimented by the soft fabric that was no doubt woven from silk. Aphrodite.

The three stood at attention as the two of you walked out, the three eyeing you with very different looks on their faces. Hizashi regarded you fondly, like old friends reconnecting. Ares was angry and guarded, as always, and Aphrodite had a glint in her eyes that you couldn’t quite discern. The ravenette turned to the god of war and nodded, and Ares visibly relaxed, no longer ready for a fight. Hizashi strolled over and leaned on Shouta’s shoulder again, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Hiya, Sho.” The blonde nodded his head at you. “(y/n).” 

You smiled back at him, greeting him kindly before turning to the other two and giving a short bow. Aphrodite returned it, but Ares almost sneered. You weren’t really surprised.  “Why are you three here, Hizashi?” Shouta asked sternly. The blonde seemed to deflate slightly as he walked back over to the other two and stood with them before speaking. “Well, for one, Demeter knows now where her favorite daughter has disappeared to. Imagine her fury when she found out her own brother had stolen her away.” Shouta groaned, then huffed. “She’ll live.”

The blonde chuckled. “Probably. Zeus has ordered that Persephone, formerly known as Kore and given the name (y/n) by Demeter, return to Olympus indefinitely.” Your eyes widened in shock and time seemed to freeze at his words. Your heartbeat drowned out any other noise, panic swirling in your head. Indefinitely? That meant until your mother decided you could come back to Hades, and you knew the answer would be never. You couldn’t live in a world where you couldn’t come back to Shouta. 

The god could sense your distress and pulled you into a tight embrace, still discussing the arrangement with the three deities. But your mind was elsewhere. You knew what had to be done if you ever wanted to return. Heart racing, you leaned back and grabbed Shouta’s face, pulling him to meet your eyes. “Let me eat a seed, Shouta. Please.” His eyebrows knit together and his body tensed as he shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, my love. I can come visit you in Olympus instead.” But you wouldn’t have any of it. 

____

He watched as your eyes filled with tears, your voice quivering and breaking as you spoke. “No! My mother won’t let you see me! And even if I begged her she won’t allow me to return here. She won’t let me come back to you.” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, sobs shaking your shoulders as you tried to hold them back. He hated seeing you so sad, so heartbroken. But he knew what would happen if you ate a pomegranate seed. To be fair, so did you, and you were willing to do it if it meant you could see him again.

You were willing to be compelled to return, compelled so strongly that if you didn’t return your body would fall ill and weak, pain seeping into your very bones. You would need to return here, to the Underworld, or you would suffer. You would need this realm to survive. He had explained it to you when you asked, and you’d promised you would think about it. Still, he hated the very idea of you being in pain. His mind reeled with the possibilities, and as much as he hated it, you both knew how this was going to go.

____

Staring up at the god, you waited as he lost himself in thought. You didn’t want to force his hand, but if you needed to, you would. Three other deities were present, and could probably hold him long enough for you to pull a red fruit from the earth and swallow down a seed. A deep sigh came from the raven haired god, and a large hand cupped your face as he pulled you into a sweet kiss. He leaned his forehead against yours and sighed softly before speaking, his voice low. “I won’t force you, my love. It is your choice to make.”

You let out a shaky, relieved breath and pulled away from him. Extending your arm out to your side, palm down to the earth, you willed the plant to grow. In mere seconds, a tree sprouted from the dirt, a single large pomegranate glowing with the magic of the Underworld hanging just at your face. You plucked it smoothly, then let the tree shrink back down and vanish. You cracked the fruit open and held a single seed in your palm, looking to Shouta as you took a deep breath. He gave a final nod, and you popped the seed into your mouth, swallowing it whole.

You felt the magic course through you, a piece of the Underworld itself flowing through your body and making itself a part of you. Turning to the three, you spoke, radiating the confidence of a Queen and a goddess. “You three have witnessed me consume a pomegranate seed from the Underworld of my own volition. You know that Hades has not forced anything upon me.” The three nod, acknowledging the truth in your statement. You addressed the goddess of love. “Aphrodite, I believe you can confirm that I love Shouta just as he loves me, and that it was not influenced by you or Eros but developed naturally.” 

She gave a sweet smile, nodding in confirmation. Turning back to Shouta, you wrapped your arms around him and he held you tight in a final embrace before you left for Olympus with Hermes, Ares, and Aphrodite. You peered up into his dark obsidian eyes. “I’ll be back, I promise.” He smiled down at you, adoration and love the only emotions in his gaze beside a tinge of despair. “I know you will, my Queen. If you are ever in danger, or if you long for me too much to bear, tap the ground and I will come to you.” 

You held him close, then separated and walked to Hermes, who picked you up gently and held you to his chest. Aphrodite and Ares climbed into their own chariot and set off before you. With a final glance to the god of death, you called out to him. 

“I love you Shouta.”

“I love you too (y/n).”

He and the rest of the Underworld vanished in a blur, replaced by the grand palace grounds of Olympus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@chou-maitresse

[deathonyourtongue]

Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it.  A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due. 

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes. 

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.” 

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality. 

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day. 

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and  trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay. 

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.” 

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten. 

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.” 

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure. 

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.” 

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm. 

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.” 

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare. 

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again. 

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths. 

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-” 

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before. 

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some. 

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances. 

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference. 

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”

[stardustkenobi]

Only Lookin’ At You

Poe Dameron x Reader

Request: “HEY BITCH I N E E D 90 FROM THE PROMPT LIST WITH MY HUSBAND THANKS IN ADVANCE” @niffleurs​ she’s here

Warnings: fluffity fluff fluff

“To the women who will always be bridesmaids” Sophia said, her alcohol induced vibrato and grandeur hiding the fact that yes, she was very bitter that her boyfriend of ten years still had not popped the question.

Along with the other six bridesmaids, you rose your glass of champagne and clinked it with each one. Hannah, your best friend in the whole entire universe, was finally getting married — the third of your friends to get married in the past couple of years.

Undergrad was a long ways away as you took a hefty sip of your drink, eying the rest of the women that shared the same silk colored robes as you in the back room that you had been shooed off to to prepare to walk down the aisle. You picked at the monogram on the left side of your chest, letting out a subtle sigh. It was definitely difficult to understand Sophia’s frustration, considering the fact that your twenties had been plagued with bad hookups, one nasty relationship that was on again, off again for the better part of three years that ended in a crescendo of yelling, thrown insults, and tears of relief when you finally left the apartment, and disappointment.

Most of the movies and love songs and books that carried you to the oh so disappointing age of 32 had convinced you that you would find that one special person by now and you weren’t necessarily worried about it, but days like today punctuated the fact that it just hadn’t happened yet.

Shrugging your shoulders, you joined your friends as they began the mindless process of getting ready for wedding party pictures and the eventual arrival of the bride to be. Your hair was braided and twisted into the style that Hannah had meticulously picked out for you. Your lashes were plucked and your face was painted before Sophia was pulling you to the mirror. Between her and Hannah’s twin sister, you were finally placed into the gown that effectively made you a member of your sorry group of seven always a bridesmaids.

“You look amazing.” Sophia beamed as she flattened out the waistline of the gown.

Giving her a grimace in the mirror, you picked out little parts of the get up that irritated you. Were you complaining about your inclusion in the wedding party? Absolutely not — Hannah was practically a sister to you and her fiancé was one of the kindest souls that you had ever met. It wasn’t their fault that you had hoped you would have been the next of your girlfriends to be decked out in white and kissings the love of your life in front of what seemed to be the entire world to show that he was yours and you were his.

“Time for pictures!” A voice dragged you from your dreamlike trance in front of the mirror and with a push from Sophia and a bouquet slapped into your hands, you were off to the front lawn of the wedding venue to take pictures with the groomsmen.

The seven groomsmen were a mix of people you knew at varying degrees. Some were friends of the groom that you knew from college, others were childhood friends, a few were coworkers.

The groomsman that you were introduced to at the rehearsal as the man who would walk you to the altar less than twenty four hours ago was a man named Poe. He worked with Hannah’s fiancé — the two had climbed the corporate ladder of the marketing agency they had started out in fresh from senior year of college and, almost ten years later, they were practically running the place.

Poe had been mentioned time and time again by Hannah, who absolutely loved to play match maker. She was convinced that you would fall in love with him and be it your stubborn nature or the fact that you were becoming absolutely obsessed with the fact that you hadn’t found the one yet, you froze up the minute he introduced himself to you as you hung around the edges of the altar waiting for instructions.

He was indescribably handsome and from what you knew he was smart. However, the cynic in you questioned whether he would even be interested. Sure, he was single and just about your age, but for one thing, you certainly hadn’t had the best track record with relationships over the past fifteen years. What would make trying with him any different? And why would he even glance your way unless Hannah had put ideas in his head already?

You were unsure of what you wanted, both in life and in a partner and as much as you wanted to explore that, you were afraid to get hurt again.

So there you stood, chatting half heartedly with your girlfriends as thoughts of perpetual loneliness swirled around your brain. They most definitely were not welcomed thoughts, but you were having a significantly hard time quelling them, particularly as you glanced over at Poe who was somehow even more handsome in the standard tux all of the groomsmen wore. Your chest squeezed as you watched him goof around with his friends in front of the camera, becoming more and more attractive by the second.

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” Hannah’s twin teased by your ear after the photographer had finished up with the guys. Of course Hannah had said something to her – this was Hannah for God’s sake.

“Shut up, Margo.” You hissed as the photographer approached your group to take pictures. “I don’t even know him.”

Marge smirked as the seven of you squeezed together, smushed up for a series of photos that ranged from serious to goofy. “He’s been watching you since you walked into rehearsal last night with every opportunity he has to.” She said plainly, turning to stand back to back with you as Sophia suggested some ridiculous pose that made some of the other girls laugh.

“Don’t put ideas in my head.” You said through a forced smile, voice an octave higher than normal.

She snorted, elbowing you teasingly. “Take a look yourself when you get a chance, why don’t you?” She said in a sing songy voice, then left to stand somewhere else at the direction of the photographer.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as the camera continued to snap away. Letting your eyes trail over to the group of guys standing a little ways off, sure enough, you met a pair of soft, brown irises that flickered away almost as quickly as you had made eye contact.

“Maid of honor and best man? Can I have you both over here for some photos, please?” The photographer said quickly, trying to adhere to the strict schedule of the day.

Margo shoved you forward to meet Poe — of course he was the best man because this was all a stupid, cliché little joke that fate was playing on you. Of course you’d have to be on his arm for the next two hours until you could finally break free at the reception, which would give you just enough time to formulate some dumb fantasy about how you’d catch Hannah’s bouquet and he’d catch her garter and your eyes would meet from across the room knowingly and he’d slip you his number on the back of his place card and it would all be just like the YA novels you used to read under your covers well past your bed time in high school and he’d —

“You good, Y/N?” Poe asked softly, hands in his pockets as he walked up to you and effectively pulled you out of your stream of consciousness.

Your knees were weak as you glanced up at him, nodding shyly. “I’m good.” You promised. “Just nerves, I think.”

He smiled, holding his arm out as the photographer directed. “You seemed a little nervous last night, too.” He said as he smiled, posing with you as the photographer began to take your pictures. Glancing down, he pushed a curl out of your eyes. “Hope it’s nothing I did.”

Your smile was soft as you chanced a quick little peek up at him. Yep, still gorgeous. “It’s not you at all.” You giggled as the flash and click of the camera caught the less than staged moment. “I think it’s just the heels, if I’m being honest. Hannah went with ones that are just way too high and I might face plant at some point if I’m not careful.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head as his eyes squeezed shut. Another snap of the camera. “She and Jack always said that you were funny, I’ll never get why they didn’t introduce us sooner.”

Your eyes rolled as you snorted, letting your bouquet hang at your side. “Of course she’s talked about me.” You said as you turned to the side a bit at the photographer’s request. “I’m sorry if she’s made you listen to stories about me at nauseum, she’s hell bent on setting all of her friends up and I totally get it if you’re, like, weirded out by being stuck with me today.”

Poe’s head tilted to the side as he studied you, taking your free hand at the photographer’s insistence. Snap — another sincere moment caught on camera, another piece of evidence for you to ruminate over when the photos finally came into your inbox months down the line when the fire in your belly had been doused and forgotten. Another photo to ignite that flame again and make you wonder if it ever could have worked. So many should’ve, could’ve, would’ves would more likely than not be plaguing your subconsciousness. “I actually asked about you when I saw that post of you and Hannah, Jack, and Margo at Governor’s Ball two summers ago. She never brought you up beforehand.”

Your mouth opened and closed as you searched for the words to respond, more likely than not looking like a fish. You willed your mind to say something, anything to counter this information as Margo yelled to you and your counterpart that it was time to get ready to process into the small chapel on the property the wedding was being held at.

“Guess that’s us.” Poe said with an almost shit eating grin, holding his arm out for you. “We can talk more about things later, if you’d like.”

You took his arm after a moment, not necessarily hesitating because you were afraid to touch him, but more so because you were afraid to mess up this delicate situation that mirrored so many action movies where the main protagonist debated whether or not to cut the red or blue wire to diffuse some sort of detonator. “I’d like that.” You finally said, choosing the lamest and subsequently safest response that you could muster.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Hannah and Jack were undeniably the cutest couple you had ever seen as they shakily exchanged vows they had written for each other in the dead of the over the past year, edits meticulously made and different word choices tested. Their kiss brought you to tears and the whole ceremony pulled you out of your own selfish thoughts for a little bit in the most relieving way possible.

You were sat on Hannah’s left, Poe was on Jack’s left, at the long table at the front of the ballroom the reception was being held in. Poe had finished his speech right after yours, receiving as many laughs as you had. When the bride and groom finally moved to the dance floor, Poe was immediately at your side, chatting your ear off eagerly as the two of you watched people spin around the dance floor for the better part of an hour.

“So,” Poe said after your fit of giggles from a joke he had cracked had died down. A slow song was just starting to play over the speakers. “You don’t have a date, I don’t have a date. They’re playing that cheesy ass Taylor Swift song that everyone’s been having their first dance to at their weddings and neither of us have had any excuse to get up and dance tonight…”

Your cheeks flushed and you hoped it would come across as being a result from the flute of champagne you had downed. “Are you asking me to dance?” “I’m not saying that we should go dance.”

“I think you’re asking me to dance.” You whispered teasingly, leaning forward with a knowing smile. “Lucky for you, if you weren’t asking me to dance, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t dance.”

He quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You don’t like to dance?”

“No.” You backtracked. “I love dancing, just…Not in front of a ton of people.” Your grin was sheepish as you shrugged, picking at a piece of link on the skirt of your gown. “Too many opportunities to slip up and look — what are you doing?”

Poe’s hand was gripping yours and, as much as your mind screamed at you to not follow him out to what could be a potentially embarrassing situation caught on camera for generations of Hannah and Jack’s family to see, you allowed yourself to be pulled out to a quieter corner of the wooden dance floor and pulled to the chest of a man that, despite knowing him for just a day and really only talking to him for an hour, felt more familiar to you than any other man you had met before.

“Pretend that there is no one else here but us” He said softly, his hands finding your waist as Taylor crooned about a love that was three summers strong. “I won’t let you fall, promise. Eyes on me, okay?”

You nodded, totally dumbfounded as you started to sway with Poe and swallowed the lump threatening to rise in your throat. Your shaky hands rose to wrap around the back of his neck, subconsciously playing with the ends of his hair.

The conversation continued to flow quietly as the song reached the second chorus and by the bridge, his forehead was pressed to yours in the most tender of ways that erased any doubt in your mind that he had spent the first part of his night with you simply out of obligation to his friends.

You didn’t catch the glances shared between Margo, Hannah, and Jack a little ways off. You didn’t see how the whispered excitedly about how their plans were finally coming to fruition and how their stubborn friend was finally letting her guard down again for someone who wouldn’t take advantage of the vulnerability. Shit, you wouldn’t have cared if you saw or heard because of the way Poe was currently looking at you.

His words were filled with hope for the future and at the end of the night as you all trudged off to go your separate ways to get back to the hotel you all were staying at, the jacket of his tux was draped around your shoulders and your phone buzzed with text after text from him as you climbed into the car with Margo and Sophia.

You hadn’t caught Hannah’s bouquet or garter, Margo and Sophia both chided from the front of the car.

You smiled to yourself as your head hit the headrest on your seat. No you hadn’t — you had been too busy dancing with Poe in the gardens just outside the all glass doors to even notice it happening.

[aerynwrites]

Liberation - IX

Chapter 9 - The Bird

Author’s Note: It’s Finally here!! I’m so so sorry for the long wait, In all honestly between school and work and just life in general i got so busy and just didn’t feel like using what little free time i had to write. But, I fiannly got this chapter done, and I think this is one of my favorite chapters so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!! As alwasy I LOVE hearing from you guys and what you thought about the chapter, it means a lot. Enjoy! 💖

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Slight PTSD? mentions of blood, violence, near death, cursing, angst and fluff.

Part 9/?  - All Chapters (Full list)

///

Din has never died before, has never really even been close to death, but right now – as your fragile form went limp in his arms and your head lolled jarringly to the side – he assumed this is what it felt like to die. His heart freezing in his chest, the breath being sucked from his lungs, and the dreadful and haunting cold seeping into his very bones.

“Kid? (y/n)? Wake up – Cara, Cara get over here!” he called frantically, his swift footsteps halting as he takes in your terrifyingly still state.

He watches through his visor, blinking away the cold sweat that is dripping into his eyes, as Cara turns on a dime and rushes over to him and takes in the sight of you, limp in his arms. She quickly comes over and her gaze snaps up to his, eyes silently asking him what she needs to do. He shifts you in his arms to better support your head and nods his helmet towards you, unable to ask the one question he fears the answer too.

Did you just die in his arms?

Cara’s lips set into a firm line and she gives him a curt nod, quickly holstering her blaster and places two shaking fingers to your neck, checking for a pulse. Din watches in anticipation, his heart - that just a moment ago seemed still – beating frantically in his chest as he looks over Cara’s face. He sees her lips tug into a frown and his heart plummets, waiting for the inevitable news.

She’s gone Mando, I’m sorry.

But Cara’s eyes widen slightly, and she stands abruptly, looking to the Mandalorian with shock and a small bit of hope in her eyes, “She’s alive, her pulse is thready but she’s alive.”

Mando doesn’t wait another second before he is rushing past Cara and continuing on their path towards his ship. You were alive, but from what Cara said, you were barely alive. He had to get you on the ship and back to the village if there was any chance of you surviving.

Even though the crest was less than a mile away, it felt like the journey there took days before he and Cara were rushing up the ramp to the ship. He hesitated as he neared the cockpit, looking from your form in his arms to the shock trooper beside him.

As if Cara sensed his thought she nodded and took the pilots seat, “You stay with her, I’ll get us back to the village,” she said firmly, firing up the ship and lifting it into the air.

Din leans his back against the wall nearest to him and slides to the floor carefully, you still in his arms. He shifts you so you are sitting up a little more in his grasp and brings one of his hands up to press his cloak firmly into your injured side, putting pressure on the wound in some desperate attempts to keep you alive. You don’t stir at the motion, still completely unconscious from your ordeal and Din feels a lump form in his throat.

“Don’t leave me kid, not yet,” he whispers desperately, head falling back against the wall as Cara navigates you all to safety.

-----

Omera walks from the small hut you and Cara had been sharing, wiping her crimson stained hands on her apron as Din approached her with frantic steps, “Is she-“ the words die in his throat before he can say them and he stays silent as he stares intently at the dark haired woman.

Omera gives him a small but terse smile, “She’s alive,” she begins, and Din lets out a large sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Thank you, I don’t –“ Omera raises her hand, silencing the Mandalorian as she gives him an uncertain look.

“I said she was alive but-“ she stutters, her eyes searching the space around her as if looking for the right words, “we don’t have advanced medicine here. You’re lucky you had what you did on your ship or else I don’t even know if she would be alive right now,” she says seriously, “The next few days are crucial. She’s not out of the woods yet.”

Din stayed silent, taking in the gravity of the woman’s words before nodding curtly, “Can I…” he trails off, his question left hanging in the air between them.

Omera gives him a gentle smile and turns to the side, gesturing to the small shelter, “Yes. She’s not awake. I don’t know when she will be, she suffered severely, so it could be a while before she comes too.”

Din nods in understanding before walking past the woman and into the small home. The curtain falls shut behind him as he enters, and the afternoon light is the only thing illuminating the room. He takes in your form, lying peacefully on the small bed, sheet pulled up to your chest and arms resting at your side. If Omera hadn't told him otherwise and he wouldn’t have noticed the shallow rise and fall of your chest, Din would have thought you were dead. Your skin was uncharacteristically pale, and your breaths were coming out in shallow pants rather than long even breaths. Your body was fighting to keep you alive and Din’s entire being crumbled as one single thought raced through his mind.

This was all his fault.

The guilt he has been harboring since he had left you here on Sorgen seemed to spread within his chest even further as he took in the sight before him. Even though Omera and the other women who had been attending to you had cleaned away the blood and grime, the evidence of your torture was still clear. The dark black and yellow bruises adorning your temple and jaw, your split lip and brow, and the angry red marks around your wrists screamed of your abuse. Din took in a shuddering breath as he pulled up a nearby chair to the side of your bed and took a seat, leaning back slowly.

He had left you once. He wasn’t planning on doing it again.

----

You thought death would be more peaceful.

Instead, you were plagued by vivid flashes of your enslavement and your days held in captivity. Your torture was replayed over and over again along with less familiar images of Din spitting insults at you.

Those hurt the worst.

His burning words of hatred, and vile insults thrown your way as the image of him leaving you behind replayed over and over again, torturing you worse than when your captor was beating you. However, you did receive some reprieve when your eyes fluttered open for the first time and you realized that you were in fact alive. Your conscious state was brief. Just long enough to see Omera and Din rush over to you, saying words you couldn’t hear past the cotton in your ears before darkness and terrifying images consumed you once more.

From there on out, your flashes of consciousness felt more frequent. But you felt like you were drowning, fighting to stay afloat in the inky blackness that consumed your vision and kept you from fully awakening and seeing the world. When you did wake however, you managed to snag flashes of the world functioning around you.

Omera and Winta telling you stories. Cara telling you about her day and the brawls she won at the local cantina. Even some of the locals came in to say kind words or pray over you. But your favorite flashes were of Din. He never said much, you would just wake long enough to see him messing about in the hut or sitting next to you working awake at something with his knife. However, when he did speak it was often in, what you assumed, was his native language. You obviously couldn’t understand what he was saying, but one word he often repeated.

Verd’ika.

this word played over and over in your black blanketed mind among the flashes of nightmares you experienced, and it seemed to ground you. You had no way of knowing how long you had been unconscious, you just knew that you felt yourself getting slowly stronger and the nightmares faded, until one moment you peeled your eyes open and blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the bright light streaming in through the windows. The first thing you noticed was the familiar sight of the woven wooden ceiling above you. You were still on Sorgen, and back in the village. You let out a relieved breath at the realization before your ears picked up sound of scraping stopping abruptly next to your head. You turned your head to the left slightly and your eyes landed on the familiar beskar clad figure sitting rigid in a seat next to your bed. You immediately try to sit up but cringe at the dull ache in your side letting out a surprised gasp.

Din instinctively reaches out to nudge you back down, but you flinch at his quick movements and he draws his hand back as if he had been burned. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you lie back down, still looking at the Mandalorian.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice strained from days of disuse.

Din shakes his head, quickly reaching down beside him and producing a cup of water, offering it to you slowly, as if afraid to scare you again.

You take the cup gratefully and sit up slightly, careful not to jar you injured side, and down the whole cup in a few gulps.

Din takes the cup from your hand and sits back, hands returning to work with what they had been doing before, “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing,” his voice is surprisingly even, despite the emotions swirling within him as he watches you rest back against the pillows once more.

You swallow thickly, “If I had been more careful – more observant – I wouldn’t be in this mess,” you try to reason, “I didn’t tell them anything you know. They wanted to know where you and the kid were and I-“ you paused to take a breath, your mind running faster than your mouth could produce words, “I didn’t tell them anything I swear. I didn’t tell them anything Din, I promise I wouldn’t tell them where you were,” you felt tears start to pool at the edges of your vision, “You have to believe me I swear –“

“Stop!” Din’s modulated voice pierced the air and interrupted your frantic rambling, “Just stop.”

You sniffled pitifully but stayed silent and watched as Din’s hands gripped the items in his hands, a knife and a small piece of wood, before setting them aside and letting out a long sigh, “Why do you keep telling me that?” he breathes, incredulity seeping into his words.

You look at him questioningly, “What do you mean?” you ask slowly.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly debating his next words before he speaks up again, voice quiet and less sure this time, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Your eyes flick around the room as you try and find an answer to his question, racking your brain for the last clear memory you have. You finally scrunch your brows together and look back to Din, “I uh…I think it was when you brought me out of…wherever I was. I remember the sky, but everything is so –“ you wave hand around in the air flippantly, “foggy I don’t remember much of anything after the man cut me loose,” you admit quietly and turn your head to look at Din once more, “Why?”

Din leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together, “Because the only thing you would say when we found you was that you didn’t tell them anything. And you just said it again, just now. Out of all the things you could have said or done…why was that it?” he asks, genuine concern and curiosity lacing his words.

You look away from his intense stare and instead turn to look out of the window instead. You knew why you said those things, you just weren’t sure if you wanted to admit it. Your fingers idly played with the sheet wrapped around you as you took in deep steadying breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay as you finally spoke.

“I didn’t want you to have another reason to hate me,” you whisper, so quiet you weren’t even sure if the man next to you had heard.

But he had. And he shot straight up and went rigid as the words met his ears.

“What?” he breathes out incredulously.

You felt tears start to fall from your eyes and slip down the sides of your face, dampening your hair on the pillow beneath you. Your body shook with silent sobs and pain blossomed in your side at the action. But you managed to speak through the tears, voice wet with emotion.

“You hate me!” you cry, “You have to, that’s the only reason I could come up with as to why you left,” your voice was shaking now and you gripped at the sheet tightly while the other hand wiped furiously at the fat tears falling from your eyes, “My parents hated me and the sold me, and then I found you and I must have fucked up somehow to make you hate me and leave me too!”

You weren’t even thinking straight at this point, all of your pent-up emotions from the past, however long, were coming out all at once and you didn’t know what was coming from your mouth. Din sat in stunned silence.

You thought he hated you?

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Din had never felt these kinds of emotions before. A strong and almost innate need to protect you, keep you out of harm's way, and also try and show you what it was like to have a halfway decent parental figure in your life.

Parental figure? Is that what this was?

Din hadn’t put a label on it before. At first, he had mainly just felt a sense of sympathetic pity for you, a rookie bounty hunter. But as your time together wore on, he felt like he needed to be there more, help you and guide you. So, the insinuation that you thought he hated you? Din didn’t know what to do.

“I don’t hate you.” he says finally, voice firm and to the point as usual.

Your red rimmed eyes glance over to him and your sniffles start to slow, “Then why did you leave? After everything I told you – my past, about my parents selling me off – why did you turn around and do the exact same thing they did? You left me.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and Din felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

“I didn’t – I don’t-'' he stumbled over his words grasping for any sense of anything that would keep him grounded, help him form his jumbled up thoughts into words, but he just ended up sighing and sitting back in his seat. He wasn’t used to this. These emotional confrontations are not things he knows how to deal with. He knows how to hunt, stalk, and kill. Not talk.

You’re still looking at him expectantly and so he finally forms some sort of answer, “I didn’t know what else to do. This place is safe, you could have a safe and happy life here with Omera and the other villagers. With me and the kid, its constant danger, looking over your shoulder, restless nights. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“But why didn’t you ask me?” you question, “I was happy. But only because you and the kid were here. You guys are –“ Family? That’s what you wanted to say but you pause, unsure of if you were ready to say those words out loud just yet and shook your head, deciding against it before continuing, “I was happy with the way things were.”

Din doesn’t say anything right away, but you see him nod and take that as an understanding. You let out an exhausted sigh and shift slightly in bed, resting your head into the pillow and rubbing at your eyes, slightly irritated from crying.

“How long was I out for anyway?” you ask, changing the subject.

Din let’s out an inaudible sigh, silently happy with the change of topic. This conversation was leading down a road he didn’t want to go down at the moment.

He relaxed slightly before picking up his earlier abandoned items and returned to carving away strips of wood with his knife, “You’ve been out for about two weeks, give or take.”

Your eyes widen, “What? How? Do we need to leave, is it safe?” you ramble out, mind racing with questions.

Din stops his work and shakes his head, “We’re fine. We have patrols at all times, and we haven’t had another hunter since I returned,” he begins, “As for the how, you were in rough shape kid. You –“ he paused, the terrifying memories from weeks ago rushing back, but he shakes them away, “I was almost too late.” He offers.

You swallow thickly at the meaning behind his words and return your gaze to the ceiling. You had almost died. Some asshole in the woods had taken you and almost killed you, and the only reason you were alive is because Din came back for you. you once again felt tears gather in your eyes, but they didn’t fall, and they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude and happiness. Din has been the first and only person in your entire life to care about you, and it didn’t seem to hit you until just now. He had risked his mission, his and the kid’s safety, to come back for you, to save you. And that meant more to you than anything in the entire galaxy. You took in a deep breath before letting out a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you breath, your gaze flicked back to the Mandalorian and you gave him a small smile, “For saving me.”

Din looked up from his work at your words, but he couldn’t help the bitterness that swelled in his chest at, what he thought, was misdirected gratitude. He was the reason you were lying there on the bed. He was the reason you were tortured and almost died in his arms. Yet here you are thanking him for ‘saving’ you when he was the reason you needed saving in the first place. He wanted to tell you these things. Tell you that you had no reason to be thanking him, to tell you that he was the last person who deserved gratitude for anything. But he bit his tongue, and instead nodded his head and returned to his work.

“Of course.”

You roll your eyes at his short and to the point response - Same old Mando. Your eyes fall to his form again, and you suddenly remember the words he had muttered to you in your slightly unconscious state. A foreign language to your ears.

“What were you saying?” your voice breaks the peaceful silence, but Din doesn’t stop his work or look up.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“When I was out, I would sometimes have these like...flashes of consciousness –“ you begin, “and a couple times I heard you saying stuff in, what I assume is another language, and…”you paused briefly when you say him tense up slightly at your mention of catching him talking to you, but you decide to continue, “and you kept saying one word a lot…verd-verdecka- ver…”

“Verd’ika. It’s Mando’a.” he says simply.

Your brows perk up at this information, your curiosity peaked, “Is that like the Mandalorian language?”

Din nods, “Yes, they taught it to me when I was a foundling. I-I don’t know much since I didn’t grow up on Mandalore but…” he trails off, scraping more intently at the wood in his hands.

“What does it mean?” you ask, “verd’ika.”

The word rolls clumsily off your tongue and Din can’t help but chuckle and correct your pronunciation, but he doesn’t answer your question, his posture queuing you into the fact that this conversation is making him uncomfortable. So, despite your curiosity, you drop the subject and instead gesture to the items in his hands.

“What are you doing anyway?”

Mando stills his ministrations and turns the small piece of wood over in his hands before opening his palm, displaying the object to you. your eyes scanned over the chunk of wood and you realize that it is the makings of a crudely carved bird.

You look from the whittling project then back up to Din and give him a wry smile, “Since when do you whittle?” you ask curiously, a twinkle of humor in your eye.

He lets out an exasperated huff before snatching his project back defensively, “Well, someone has to watch you and I wasn’t going to sit here and do nothing all day,” he mutters.

You let out a small laugh shrug your shoulders, “To each their own I suppose. It didn’t look half bad though.” You say earnestly.

Din sets down his work on the small table beside your bed and moves to stand, “Yeah, yeah,” he says jokingly, moving to the side of your bed, “Now since we have some daylight to kill, we should get you up and moving. Omera said you’d need to build your strength.”

You chuckle at his not so subtle change of topic but smile and nod. You were ready to get better and get off this planet. As much as you loved the villagers, this place held too many bad memories.

The rest of the day was filled with short yet exhausting walks. Your injury had healed considerably since your treatment, especially with the help of what little bacta spray Din had on hand. But it was still somewhat painful to do any extended period of activity. So after several laps around the krill ponds, a dinner break, and a few more stops to see Omera and Cara – who worried over you like two mother hens – Din walked slowly back to your hut keeping a constant eye on you until you sat on the side of your bed gently, letting out a tired huff.

“Well that was exhausting,” you chuckle, shifting to lay back into the mattress, pulling the covers up and over you.

“You need to rest,” Din’s voice spoke, returning to his earlier post in the chair next to your bed, “We’ll do it again tomorrow.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, “you’re a slave driver I swear to the maker,” you tease, “I almost died, can I not have a break?”

You see Mando tense at your words and you feel a pang of guilt shoot through you, the implication behind your word choice hitting you, “I was just joking Mando. I know I have to get my strength back,” he seemed to relax at your words and he picked up his wood project once more, settling back into the chair.

You furrowed your brow and waved your hand at him, “You don’t have to babysit me. Go get some rest, take off your helmet for probably the first time in weeks, you need rest too you know,” you urge quietly.

Din shook his head, not stopping his work, “I’m fine, I’ve been taking shifts with Omera and Cara. I don’t mind,” he says genuinely.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push the subject and instead settled into your bed, exhaustion weighing down your limbs and drawing your eyes closed. You quickly fell asleep to the light breeze of Sorgen and the comforting sounds of Din’s blade scraping wood.

-----

The musty smell of your prison fills your nose and your eyes snap open. Taking in your surroundings frantically. You feel your heart slam against your ribcage as you’re met with the terrifyingly familiar eyes of the man who bought you, your ‘master’ staring back at you menacingly. Your brain is trying to make sense of the situation.

You were in your cell on Sorgen, suspended from the ceiling once more, but the man who stole your childhood from you is here too?

You can’t help the scream that rips from your throat as you see him lift up a large bucket the tangy smell of acid burning your nostrils. But before the liquid can meet your skin, the man disappears from your vision and is replaced by your captor from two weeks ago. His hot breath fanning over your face.

“Looks like the Mandalorian never came back for you-“ he clicks his tongue, “A shame really. I was hoping you would lure him here, but it looks like he doesn’t care enough about you to even come save you.”

His harsh words cause your heart to sink. What was happening? Was everything a dream, did Din never come back to save you?

Before you could come up with an answer the man doused you in a bucket of ice cold water, and you felt yourself falling through the air, only to land roughly on the ground, blades of grass slipping between your fingers and scraping your knees.

“Your parents were right to sell you,” a familiar modulated voice fills your ears and you quickly shift to sit on your heels, looking up confusedly at the towering Mandalorian above you.

“What? Din what are you saying?” you ask, tears filling your vision.

He lets out a bitter scoff, “You heard me. You’re worthless. A burden. It’s no wonder your parents sold you off. Why do you think I left you behind?” his voice is filled with venom as he stands threateningly above you.

“Din, that’s not true you said –“

“Well I lied. You were right, I do hate you. you’ve been nothing but a burden since I picked you up on that planet all those months ago,” he seethes.

And as if his hateful words aren’t enough already you see multiple figures of the people you know surround your shaking form; Cara, Omera, your parents, Din, all shouting hateful words towards you.

“Worthless!”

“Stupid girl!” “Can’t even fight your way out.” “Pathetic – a burden to everyone!”

Your breathing is erratic as you finally pull your knees to your chest slapping your hands over your ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the scathing voices, but it did no good. It’s like they were coming from inside your head.

“Stop it, stop!” you wailed.

“STOP!”

------

You shot up in your bed a shrill cry of desperation ripping from your throat as tears stream down your face and a cold sweat makes your clothes stick to your skin.

You see Din startle from his position in the chair, seemingly asleep before your cries woke him up. He quickly came to your bedside and before he could ask what had happened you threw your arms around him, ignoring the pain in your side, and buried your face in his shoulder, sobs wracking your body.

You felt his hands hesitantly come to rest on your back, obviously unsure of himself in situations like this, before he slowly started to rub your back, “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry – I’m so sorry,” you manage to push past the tears, words coming out in a shuddering mess past your uneven breaths.

“What? What’s going on?” His voice was thick with concern.

“I was back there,” you sob, “And all of you w-were yelling at me calling me a burden, and worthless-“ you choke out, “Please don’t leave, please – ‘m so sorry.”

Din felt his heart constrict in his chest as your violent sobs and wet cries met his ears, whatever had happened in your nightmare had clearly shaken you, and from what he gathered from what little you told him, he knew why.

He held you closer to him, “It's okay kid, I’m not leaving. It’s okay,” he assured, voice quiet.

You didn’t say anything, but your cries had stopped, and your sobs were reduced to sniffles, as you stay wrapped in the man’s arms. He was suddenly hit again with the realization of how much of a kid you still were. Unsure of the future and terrified of being left behind again, and he felt his blood boil at the fact that you had to endure this. You didn’t deserve this. These sleepless nights and traumatic memories.

He sighed, and his attention was once again drawn back to you, who’s sniffles had ceased, and breathing had evened out.

You were asleep again.

He gently returned you to bed, and pulled the covers up over you, your peaceful expression a dramatic difference from your demeanor moments ago. But he revels in the momentary peace you are hopefully experiencing in your slumber and returns to his position in the chair, watching over you until morning.

-----

When morning does come, you wake up alone. Your eyes adjust to the pale morning light quickly and you sit up slowly, looking around the small home. You immediately notice that Din is absent, and you remember your nightmare from last night, but also his calming words after. Maybe you had weirded him out, you weren’t oblivious to the fact that Din was a man of few words and terrible comforting skills. The second thing you notice is the small wooden carving on your bedside table, Din’s earlier project now complete. You slowly reach over and take the light-yellow object in your hand, fingers running over the smooth surface of the carved wood. He had actually done quite a good job with the small figure. It fit in your palm and was no bigger than your hand and small enough to fit in your pocket. Your eyes scanned carefully over the figurine; it was in fact a bird, but Din had added beautiful spread wings to the head and body you had seen earlier. It’s small beak and eyes were delicately carved along with the feather details on the wings. You ran your fingers over the carving lightly, taking in every ridge and bump until you came to the bottom and felt an unfamiliar etching.

You turned the wooden figure over carefully and your eyes widened at the words inscribed on the bottom of the bird, and you felt tears burn at your eyes as you took them in.

Verd’ika

‘little soldier’

///

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[lastluvbug]

told you I was gonna come with a new request! =D mind doing another Scarabia, along with a Diasmonia one? The reader has the same kind of past as the one in the last request, but I just wanna see how you would write it in their perspectives. You can make them into one or separate stories, it doesn't matter to me so go ahead and go all out! Oh and if you can make a added part where it was near the time when they found a way to get home, that would be great, thanks so much! =D

Thanks for the requests @sanata101!! I’ll do my best!

Warnings: mentioned abuse and self harm (please love yourself), language, toxic behavior. If sensitive, please do not read!

A Sweet Melody (Diasomnia)

Normally, Yuu would’ve found herself anywhere but here.

The night hadn’t sat well in her gut, long since given the opportunity of relief from its seemingly endless feast upon itself, and as such, Yuu couldn’t manage even a wink of sleep. She was somewhat jealous of Grim, who snored soundly, lost in his sea of slumber. She couldn’t help but envy that he had nothing to prod at his consciousness in the late hours, nothing to worry himself over, or remember.

So, quietly as she could, Yuu snuck away from Ramshackle, and into the brisk wind that whipped at her hair and chilled her skin, still clad in her sleepwear. She wasn’t sure exactly where she planned to go, all she knew was that she sought a way to remove the worm that had been planted too firmly in her ear.

Her skin crawled with nolstalgia, eye tingling with the reminder of the glass that had so cruelly sliced away half her world. She’d merely been a child when her father lashed out one night, stealing a part of Yuu that she could never replace, and as time ticked forward, she did as well.

It came as a shock to her when she found herself standing in the illusive Mirror Chamber of Night Raven College. Of all places to go, she chose here? Yuu had only been brought into the area a scarce few times before, and not of her own accord, having been forced by a too excited Grim to check it out. She wanted to excuse herself, to speed away from the decision that lay in front of her, but the way it bent and warped before her very eyes kept her grounded, the magic visible even beneath a blanket of water.

Yuu shakily reached towards the Dark Mirror, only stopped by the tear that dripped down her cheek. “How could I...? After everything that happened... how could I go back..?!” She thought, clenching her fists as she withdrew her hand. “I shouldn’t be here.” She turned on her heel, tramping back to her rundown dorm, all the while pressing her palms to her head in order to squeeze out the memories that brought a pounding headache along with them.

When she creaked the door to her room open, Yuu suppressed her sigh, finding that Grim was still sound asleep. She tucked herself back into the dense warmth of her bed, grimacing at how the little monster barely even stirred as she lifted him up to make herself comfortable. Her eyes fluttered shut, a finger tracing over her damaged lid with a feather light touch. Ever since that day, Yuu hadn’t had a single peaceful night, any small bump or whistle in the wind causing her to jump to alertness.

A long while later, her consciousness gave way, allowing itself to sink into oblivion.

<————>

Sirens, water, blood.

To Yuu, that was the only thing she could remember clearly, like a movie playing too vividly in her overactive head.

Sirens; the blues, yellow, and reds that flooded the house as the ear piercing screams signalled the arrival of the emergency vehicles. The sound kept her awake night after night, plaguing her dreams that soon flitted away altogether. It sounded like—like the shrieks of her sister, of her mother, the last that their voices would ever create.

Water; streaming down her windows as she sat broken at the sills, stuck in a home that had long since been referred to as such. It wasn’t a home, it was her prison. It carved paths down her young cheeks, one horribly marred by the hand of someone she once held dear to her heart, the only constant that could be relied upon.

And blood; there was always so much of it. Pooling on the white tile flooring, staining the sheets, dripping over mounds of muscle. It was hers that was spilled first, and soon, it was of her sister and mother’s. Long after that blood had been washed away, Yuu often found herself holed up in the bathroom, dragging new trails across her skin with anything she could, whether that be a blade, or a dirty shard of glass.

She couldn’t seem to climb the boulder of self doubt and blame, never gaining an inch before it grew, scheming new reasons as to why she’d never amount to anything more than a guilty murderer.

Yes, that was what her father used to call her. A murderer.

“It wasn’t my fault...right? It wasn’t me!” Yuu screamed to no one in particular, staring at her hands.

“Oh, but it was these hands that led to their demise, wasn’t it?” A deep voice grumbled, grotesque like nails on a chalkboard. “It was you who made that—that noise you were so insistent on creating. Always with that damn harp, strumming away like everything was fine. Look around Yuu! Does everything seem fine?!” Her father growled, and suddenly, Yuu was no longer in the black of her subconscious, rather in that kitchen that reeked of death.

“I j-just... I wanted to make you happy... I was never enough! I just wanted to be enough for you!”

“For him? What about us? Did you forget about me, Yuu?” Her sister cooed, standing in front of her, battered and bruised.

“Did you forget what you did to us? If it weren’t for you, we’d still be alive!” Her mother joined, the family finally complete in all its broken glory.

“I-I’m sorry—I’m so, so sorry! I never meant for this, you know I never—“ Yuu dropped to her knees, clutching her head.

“You can’t hide from your past! You can’t hide from what you caused!” The bleeding mother wailed, each syllable sharp as a prick from a needle.

“You’ll always be a filthy murderer!” They said in unison, Yuu shooting her head up with panic striken tears clouding her half view.

“Take the punishment you deserve!” Her father boomed, raising his hand above his head, a bottle clenched tightly in the meaty fingers.

Yuu could do nothing but throw her arms over her face as the weapon was swung with deadly precision, racing faster and faster on its fatal track until—!

<————>

Yuu screamed as she jerked awake, sweat beads trickling down the sides of her face as she twisted her fingers in the sheets that stifled her with too much heat.

“Yuu? What’s all the noise ‘bout...?” Grim whined, rolling over and peeking an eye open.

She sucked in a shaky breath, raking a hand through her hair. “I-I... I think I–I need a w-walk. Yeah, a walk. Go b-back to sleep, I’ll be back in a little bit.” Yuu said, voice quivering worse than a dead leaf in the wind.

“Are ya sure? You don’t sound like you’re—“

“I’m fine! I just need to get some fresh air, that’s all. See you soon, Grim.” She intervened, giving him no time to respond as she lifted herself from the bed, practically racing out the door without so much as a coat.

The silent night was of little calm to the distressed girl, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone paving the path she walked over. Even as she wove further and further from the dorm house, and away from the dim light provided from the lit lanterns positioned haphazardly around the place, her wire thin thoughts didn’t allow her to notice the guest she entertained as she relived her nightmare.

That was the first vision she’d seen after clocking out in a long, long time. So long, in fact, Yuu had begun to believe that she was incapable of dreaming. The marks over her wrists and thighs tingled, none so uncomfortably as the scar blemishing her face. Out of habit, she hid it beneath a sweaty hand, wishing for the umpteenth time that some magic power would wash away the record of her father’s woes. Of her own failures.

A harsh wind whipped at her hair, rustling through her already thin clothing and sinking ice into her bones as a shiver crawled over her skin. Yuu pulled her arms across her body, hands rubbing her arms as she attempted to create even an inkling of warmth over the deprived flesh. Only now did she notice how far she’d wandered from...the only place she could call home in her twisted wonderland.

“Did you come with a plan for the chill, or are you just a fool?”

Yuu nearly tripped over her feet as she spun, ignited by the hyperactive moon. “Ts-Tsunataro!” She called, startled the appearance of the towering faerie. “H-How long have you been out here? Were you following me?”

“Ah, mortals and all of their insistent questioning,” he chuckled, horns glinting in the moonlight, “no matter. Please, cover yourself with this. You’ll catch your death if you remain dressed that way in this weather.” He shrugged off his blazer, largely oversized for Yuu’s frame.

“A-Ah... of course.” She extended her hand to grab the covering. Just as she was about to pull her second arm through the sleeve, a gloved hand gently took her arm, keeping her from completing the simple act. She kept silent as Tsunataro rotated it to expose the underside, pale and littered in thin ladders of scars.

His eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and he reached out for the other arm, only to have it pulled away by Yuu, who hid herself behind a curtain of hair. “...Why? Why would you do this to yourself?” He asked, and if Yuu didn’t know any better, she would’ve believed that the confusion held in his voice was genuine.

“You wouldn’t understand...” she replied weakly. “...the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt. I’m as ugly on the inside as am out, I don’t deserve anything more than the dirt on the soles of my shoes.”

The dark haired man froze, still as a statue as he processed the words, her arm still gently gripped in his large hand. Yuu stared at the smooth cement, at her pale feet in the too bright light, refusing to meet his eye.

And, each action executed with an elegance Yuu could never hope to possess, Tsunataro took her other arm, his hands sliding down to envelope hers as he kneeled, only somewhat shorter than she was standing. “I’ve seen many a peculiar incident in my lifetime, some so bizarre they seem impossible, but this my dear, is unbelievably false. You need not hide your face, for such a work of art cannot be praised unless the light frames its beauty.” He released a hand to cup her cheek, tilting her head to sweep away the bangs and reveal her teary eyes.

“Y-You... you shouldn’t lie, not for me. There’s no truth in anything you say...!” She sobbed, making no movements to wipe away her liquid sorrow.

“Once again, undeniably false. It astounds me to see that you fail to notice the perfection you carry within your mere existence. I’ve seen maidens from near and far, all come to win my hand, but never someone as fair as you. You may bear a past laced and threaded with horrors only few are opportune to see, and you may bear the scars and bruises from the times when you fell. But, the very fact that you stand here before me today, bathed in the light of the moon and glittering like a star, is the proof that you not only fell, but you rose to become something greater. I see no truer beauty than that, Yuu.”

The girl was silent, a cascading waterfall dripping to the pavement as she stared at the kneeled man, for once unashamed to show her face in its entirety. She could voice no words as she weeped, falling to her knees as well as pressing herself into the bigger body, hands clasping the fabric of his chest as she buried herself under his chin.

Malleus Draconia was for once at a loss for a plan. So, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the trembling girl, tracing lines up and down her back to soothe her cries. “I-I—I just...I d-don’t want to be a-alone anymore!” She screamed, voice cracking like the glass of his heart.

“Shh, you don’t have to be. I know what it’s like to take the hard road with no one to guide you, believe me, I know. But you don’t have to be. Tomorrow, look for the people wearing these colors. They will be the ones to keep you company while I cannot.” Malleus instructed, gesturing to his green-and-black armband.

“T-They...will?”

“Yes, I promise it.”

“T-That sounds...nice. Thank y-you, Tsunataro.” Yuu whispered, her cries reduced to pitiful hiccups.

“Whatever you require, my dear. Now, hush, and close your eyes. You must be incredibly worn out.” She listened, noticing how she was, indeed, exhausted. She barely recognized as she was lifted bridal style, a fuzzy feeling raising goosebumps along her flesh as she snuggled closer to the warmth radiating from her savior.

The world faded away, one sense at a time, until the thankfully dreamless slumber rewelcomed Yuu, sweeping her away to a world where naught mattered but the darkness and its tantalizing hand.

<————>

The cafeteria chatter greeted Yuu’s ears as the smell of all sorts of foods mingled in the air.

She stepped into the bustling room, dodging students as she held Grim in her arms, looking down to the band that was tied around her wrist. After she had awoken, she wanted to believe that the encounter the night before had been some crazy dream her mind had conjured up, but was proven wrong by a lime-and-black colored ribbon tied loosely around her wrist, reminding Yuu of the promise that had been sworn.

“Do you see them, Yuu? I just want to get food already...” Grim pouted, crossing his arms.

“N-No, I don’t... I thought Tsunataro said they’d be here...” she faltered, standing on her toes to try and glimpse around the taller students around her.

She jumped slightly, trying to locate the colors that should’ve normally stuck out like a sore thumb. She was so focused, that Yuu nearly tripped over herself when her vision was blocked by two red eyes dancing with amusement. “Woah—! W-who are you?” She stammered, leaping back a step.

She stared a little too intensely, intrigued by how the boy was quite literally hanging upside down in midair, his black and magenta streaked hair falling around his face as he chuckled, uprighting himself and sinking to the floor. On instinct, her gaze was quickly diverted downwards as she tilted her face away from his, hiding her scarring. “Kufufu, relax, young one. I’m Lilia Vanrouge, the proud vice of Diasomnia dorm. You don’t need to hide your face, I know who you are.”

Yuu looked up, seeing nothing but his gentle smile as her tense shoulders slumped, continuing to shadow her eye as Grim stirred in her embrace. “Fgna?! Aren’t you the guy we saw before Leona’s crazy beast mode during the Magift championships?” The monster exclaimed, so restless he nearly fell from Yuu’s hold.

“Hm? Oh, I guess that is true. Commendable job on handling that, by the way.” Lilia congratulated, clapping his hands as he smiled. “Now, I heard from a certain someone that you were in need of companionship, correct?”

“U-Uh, you mean this?” She held up her ribbon. “I s-suppose that’s right...”

“Fufu, no need to be so timid. Come, I’ll lead the way.” Lilia waved his hand, gesturing for her to follow as he disappeared within the crowd.

“I guess it can’t get any worse...” She thought, quickly trailing after the shorter senior.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at a rowdy table, Lilia bowing teasingly as she stood, a sweat drop almost visible on her forehead. “Silver! You cannot sleep in the cafeteria! You’ve already woken for the day, what if the young master requires our assistance?!” A boy with pale green hair yelled, gripping someone with chin length grey hair and shaking the life from him.

“Sebek, quite down... you’ll disturb the peace.” He yawned, pushing himself away from the green haired boy.

The latter gasped dramatically, fists clenching as he lifted them into the air. “You dare order me around?! Why I ought to—!”

“Ahem. Sebek, Silver, would you like to explain or shall I turn yet another blind eye to this?” Lilia coughed, staring blankly.

“Lilia-san!” The two instantly straightened out, Sebek’s temper cooling as Silver rose to alertness. “Apologies, Lilia-san. We weren’t aware of the...guests.” Silver bowed his head, completely oblivious to the hot glare Grim sent his way.

“By all mighty... in all my years of teaching you two, have you not learned a thing about manners? Introduce yourselves!” Lilia scolded, wagging a gloved finger in the air as Yuu took her spot at the table.

“R-Right! I’m Sebek Zigvolt, first year Diasomnia student. Very nice to meet you.” Yuu nodded respectfully, fidgeting with Grim’s tattered tie.

“...Silver, second year from Diasomnia, as well. Sorry for the mess you had to see before.”

“I-It’s alright... I’m Yuu, though I’m s-sure you already knew that...” she mumbled, Grim seated on her lap as she ran a hand over her eye absentmindedly. She was only torn from her meddling as silence wrapped around the table, something that from her short time of sitting with the group, Yuu could tell was uncommon. When she looked up, she felt her ears redden to find that both Silver and Sebek were staring at her, sharing unreadable expressions.

“I-Is something the matter?” She asked, a knot tying in her throat.

“N-No! Nothing at all!” Sebek refuted, shaking his head from side to side.

“No offense or anything, but why are you here?” Silver asked matter-of-factly, Yuu flinching at the tone.

“A-Ah, w-well...I—“

“Ms. Yuu here has been awfully lonely, as most of the students avoid her like the plague, the terrible oafs. So, as said by our dear lord, we shall be the ones to provide her company!” Lilia revealed, once again clapping in his oversized sleeves as he took a seat next to the girl.

“What?! Lilia, you do realize she has no magical powers whatsoever, correct? How could we bring her under our wing when—“ Sebek’s outraged voice trailed off as Yuu felt tears sting her eyes.

It was the same thing everyone always said. She wasn’t enough, she was never enough.

“I-I’m so sorry, I should just leave...! I-I’m sorry to have taken your time like this.” She stood to go, breathless as she held back sobs. She was about to storm away, off to her first class, when someone snagged her wrist, keeping her from running.

“Wait! Please, wait Yuu.” Lilia called, taking both her hands similarly to the way Malleus did the night before.

“Why...? I-I don’t want to bother a-anyone, I’m sure just associating yourself with someone like me tarnishes your reputation!” Yuu argued, Grim holding onto her leg protectively.

“No, no no. Don’t speak like that. Reputation be damned, I say. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks? Come back, I know those two are a little hectic, but I promise you, once you get through their walls, they’ll be there for you through thick and thin. Just... give it a chance, alright? Do you think you can try that for me?” He asked softly, the busy cafeteria blind to the exchange.

“I...” Yuu took a deep breath, steadying her shaking voice. “I don’t know what I can promise you, but I can try.” She said, earning a cheeky grin in response.

“Come on, let’s go back.” Lilia smiled, letting go of one of her hands to pull her back towards the table.

As soon as the dramatic first year noticed the pair heading back over, he stood, easier to read than a book with the emotions spilt across his face.

“Lady Yuu! I deeply apologize for my previous words, it was wrong of me to speak that way.” Sebek near shouted as Yuu sat back down.

“I-It’s alright... really. Right, Grim?” Yuu noddd, her tears having soaked back to the dam behind her eyes.

“Grr... You knucklehead better watch that tongue of yours from now on! Got it?” He growled, shooting daggers at the much bigger student.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He may be emotional and dramatic, but unfortunately, he’s not an idiot. It won’t happen again...” Silver added before Sebek could reply, yawning as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Silver!” Sebek yelled, slamming his palms on the table.

As the antics continued, and the clock ticked by, Yuu found herself enjoying the jumbled company more than she thought. Her mind was steered away from the reminder of her horrid past, and for the first time since the accident, she forgot about the cicatrice that had disfigured her complexion. And, perhaps best of all, she found herself creating small giggles she had no idea she was still capable of making.

<————>

When the bell tolled the end of breakfast and the beginning of the first class, she was pleasantly surprised when Sebek walked her to the room, finding that they shared the period, as well as many others. Throughout the day, she reunited with Silver and Lilia, whether it be at lunch, or in the never halting progression of her magic filled classes.

Each of them comforted Yuu in their own way; for Lilia, it was through kind words and subtle encouragement. Everytime he notice her falling into the abyss of her thousand pound thoughts, he whispered her sweet nothings, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze to let her know that she had someone to rely on.

For Silver, it was through soft touches and physical reminders. Whenever they shared a period together, he’d often doze off, slumping onto her shoulder and using it as a pillow. The few times he managed to stay awake, he would smile and use his pen to scribble little pictures and doodles in the corners of her assignments, to which Yuu would grin and return the favor.

For Sebek, it was through firm support and voiced praise. Applauding her when she answered questions correctly, cheering when she rode her broom properly in P.E, he was there to congratulate her on the smallest of things. He even offered to personally escort her to each classroom, guaranteeing that she wouldn’t be messed with by any of the students who dared poke fun at her outward appearance.

By the time the last bell of the school day reverberated off the intricately designed walls, Yuu had to press her cool hands to her eyes to slow the rise of water pooling in the sparkling orbs. It was too much—they were too much. It was all—all too similar to the way her... her family used to be! She didn’t want to lose anyone again, didn’t want to place her trust in those who didn’t deserve it! She’d failed to protect what she loved most once before, and she’d be struck dead before it happened again. Every beating she took, every meal she sacrificed, and for what? So that she would just lose it all in the blink of an eye?

What if... what if they left her too?

What if she was being used, again—

“...uu. Yuu. Hello? Anyone in there?”

The girl in question looked up, startled by the voice. “...Huh...? Silver?” She gasped, noticing how Grim was missing as the grey haired boy laughed inaudibly.

“Sleeping in class is my thing, you doofus. C’mon, I have something I want to show you.” He extended a hand, Yuu taking it after a minute of consideration.

“Where are we go—woah!” She yelped as she was dragged by the agile Diasomnia student, zipping through the halls in a blur of color as the speed brought a grin to her lips.

It wasn’t much, but the wind in her hair and the temporary high of running was enough to spike her adrenaline, in the kind of way that was addicting as opposed to way driven entirely off of fear.

All too soon, Yuu was brought to a complete stop, only caught from tripping by Silver’s sturdy grip. “Huff... w-was the running... necessary?” She panted, regaining her composure.

“Shh... look.” Silver simply instructed pointing.

Yuu followed the direction, and felt her heart burst with adoration at the scene unraveling before her.

Standing at the edge of the courtyard, Yuu stared with nary a trace of malice in her gaze as there, laid against the apple tree, Malleus slept silently, the only sign that he was even alive being the calming breaths that heaved through his chest. Yuu covered her mouth, turning away the laughter that threatened to spill from her pink lips.

Little animals were all over the great fae.

Birds decorated his horns, in a variety of blues and reds and yellows, while critters splayed themselves out over his lap, sandy brown chipmunks and greyed squirrels quarreling over tree nuts nearby.

“Is this an everyday occurrence for Tsunataro?” Yuu thought, stepping into the courtyard.

Silver followed after her, and once she took a seat by the slumbering boy, Silver gave her a little nod before stretching out over the wooden bench, basking in the late afternoon sun that made his hair shine like a newly polished sword.

Reaching out, she gingerly brushed away a few locks of ebony hair, scaring a few of the animals away. Malleus stirred, eyes fluttering open sleepily as he shook off the rest of the little creatures. “Hello...” Yuu cooed, withdrawing her hand and placing it on her lap as she sat on her knees.

“What a shame, really. Lordy here never gets a full night’s rest anymore, always staring at the moon like a love struck puppy dog.” Yuu shifted, falling back onto her hands as the enigmatic vice yet again dropped upside down in front of her.

“L-Lilia? How long have you been here?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“A while. I was the one who told Silver to get you, right, my boy?” Lilia smirked, cackling as Silver grunted and sent a thumbs-up as his approval.

“I’m sorry to wake you, if that is the case the—“

“Young master!” Came the familiar cry of Sebek, who practically raced over to the bench where Silver sat. “I’ve been looking everywhere! You can’t just disappear like that, you’ll put yourself in danger!”

“Oh hush now, Sebek. You’ll scare the doves.” Malleus yawned, exposing his sharp canines for a brief second.

“The doves aren’t anything to be concerned with right now... ah! Hello, Yuu! Apologies for failing to notice your presence sooner!” The green haired guard said with just a touch too much emotion to seem genuine.

“H-Hi...?” She waved timidly, a small but identifiable smile on her lips.

“My dear, I’m deeply sorry for only now making an appearance. Just as the day and night chase each other in a never ending cycle of time, my identity comes and goes. During school hours, I’m needed elsewhere.” Malleus said, Lilia having wandered off to pester Sebek and Silver.

“It’s alright, I figured there’s more than just me to entertain in your life,” Yuu shrugged, smoothing out her clothes.

“Fufu, indeed. Tell me—at the very least, did they behave?”

Yuu watched as the three goofed off, carefree chatter and laughs floating about the courtyard. “Well... Sebek is loud, and sometimes a little overwhelming. Silver is always sleeping, and doesn’t have a very strong attention span. And Lilia... he’s unpredictable, hopping left and right without so much as a plan to fall back to.” Yuu admitted, a pleasant breeze sweeping through her hair.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, but... it’s not all bad. They all—they all remind me so much of my family...!” Yuu felt her voice crack as her tears returned yet again. “Silver—ha, Silver reminds me of my sister! She was so young, and...and she loved to draw. She would always doodle little pictures on my papers, and I’d always get so mad at her for it...” she wiped away the fat beads, sniffling.

“What about Lilia?” Malleus prodded, urging her to continue.

“Lilia-san reminds me of my mother. His smile, the way he quietly encouraged me when I felt like I wasn’t enough... I haven’t felt her embrace in so long, I often find myself wondering if she was real at all!”

“And... Sebek?”

“Sebek? He... well, he reminds me of—of my... my father. Before he is who he is now. I can barely remember it, but I know for a fact that he used to cheer for me whenever I got full marks on a test. I know he used to patch up my bumps and scrapes, he wasn’t always the man who... who sat around drowning himself in liquor!” The tears were so thick, Yuu couldn’t see more than a blurred mess as she hiccuped, rubbing over her scar.

“Yuu. Come here.” Malleus opened his arms. An invitation, to which Yuu wordlessly accepted by flinging herself into him, sobbing her heart onto his uniform, tears dampening the fabric.

“I don’t...! I don’t want to go back! I don’t care that Crowley found a way to get me home! I can’t go back!” She lamented, feeling Malleus tense below her.

“He...what?” It was clear that no one had been aware of this turn events, no one besides the headmaster of Night Raven and Yuu herself.

“Please... I don’t want to go back to a place where I’m not loved. To a place where I’ll forever be subjected to... to ridicule, and mockery. Please, please don’t let me leave.” Yuu begged, unaware of the crowd she had gathered.

Silver and Sebek stood dumbfounded, both gaping as Lilia watched speechless, a dark look shadowing his normally mischievous face.

In that moment, all four boys made a choice. They made the choice of compassion.

Malleus crushed Yuu in a hug, a hand over the back of her head as he pulled her flush against himself. “Shh. You don’t have to leave. You’ll stay with us. You’ll stay here, where you’re safe, and you don’t have to hide anymore.” Malleus promised, dropping the embrace to look Yuu in the eyes, absorbing all of her fractured beauty.

“I... can stay?”

“Dearest, remain here, with us. You never have to be scared again. Not ever.”

Yuu pried herself away from the broad fae, sitting on her knees and for the first time, seeing a picture so clearly, it was as if her vision returned to her after all this time.

She saw the faces of her family in them. She saw the innocent bliss of her sister, the serenity of her mother’s forgiveness, and the pride of her father. She saw the acceptance, the realization that this was now her family.

No more blood. No more tears.

She had a place she could call home, and it wasn’t even a place. It was in the arms of these four people.

Yuu had finally found her lost melody.

Holy wow, I am so, so sorry that this took so long to finish! I’m still working on the Scarabia duo, so keep an eye out for that!

I hope you enjoyed, and once again, thanks for reading!!

Stay lovely!

[iathings]

HipHop Is Headed for Self Destruction “Self destruction, you’re headed for self destruction” For those who can remember, these lyrics are from the iconic call to consciousness Hip-Hop song by KRS-1 along with host of other iconic Hip-Hop artists released in 1989. The song addressed the very serious issue of violence that began to plague Hip-Hop at the time and threatened to kill the culture. It was a smart move that changed the course of Hip-Hop for several years. Hip-Hop culture is killing itself once again but are today's artists conscious enough to save Hip-Hop like the old school did? It’s now been over 40 years since the first Rap songs gained airplay on top 40 radio stations in America. Over that time, Hip-Hop has grown to dominate the airwaves and produce countless Black millionaires and Billionaires. It is the number one music genre in the world, a voice for the youth, and a vehicle for oppressed people of all races to escape poverty in circumstances where all hope seems to be lost. Unfortunately, Hip-Hop has become plagued with violence and gangsterism. To say that Hip-Hop was never associated with gangsterism would be wrong because Hip-Hop actually helped to cool the gang violence that existed in New York, the birthplace of Hip-Hop, during the beginning stages of its development in the 1970s. Instead of physically fighting, gangs would settle their beefs through Break Dancing competitions, Graffiti writing, Rapping, and Disc-jockeying. Competitions were set up in all the Hip-Hop genres so gangs from all over New York could settle their differences in non violent ways. The friendly rivalries soon changed however and by the mid 80s gang bangers were robbing Hip-Hop artists for their enormous Gold chains and other valuables. Artists were forced to associate themselves with Gangs from their own neighborhoods for protection. At the same time, artists also began to adopt the BlackConsciousness movement of the time. This brought about a change in the lyrical content of Hip-Hop music. By 1989, conscious minded artistes such as BDP, Public Enemy, Stetsasonic, Heavy D, and many others came together on “Self Destruction” to deliver a warning to the Hip-Hop industry. In the early 90s another crisis hit the Hip-Hop industry when the glorifying of gangsterism made its way into the content of the music. Before that point, artists mostly made songs about their lyrical skills, their sex appeal, and their fashion. Now they were Rapping about shooting the Police and their gang related rivals. The Police took notice and formed Hip-Hop surveillance units that monitored artists and their lyrics. They also targeted, harassed, and arrested artists for no reason other than intimidation. The Police petitioned politicians, record companies, and radio stations to stop playing Rap music because it “incited violence”, they claimed. By the mid nineties even Black owned radio stations had stopped playing most Rap. Then after the Notorious BIG and Tupac got killed over senseless regional rivalries artists got the message and a lighter style of Rap music began to get airplay and gain popularity. Gangsters were now firmly entrenched in the Hip-Hop industry forming record companies to wash drug money. Over the next 10 years, gang affiliated record company owners, managers, and producers gained control of most of the artists. They also gained influence on radio, promotions and performance venues in numerous reasons of America. By 2010 however, the whole music industry began to change. New technology as well as the emergence of Social Media enabled artistes to make and distribute music without record company backing. They say gangsters always want to be rappers and rappers always want to be gangsters, well 2010 and beyond became the perfect time for the two groups to merge and make money. Gang members began to make music and money flowed faster and easier than dealing drugs on the corner. Unfortunately, becoming an Hip-Hop artist isn’t a pass in gang culture. Chains still get snatched and people still get robbed, extorted and beaten up when artists get caught slacking. This has been the culture of the new generation of Hip-Hoppers for the past 10 years.   Gang affiliated artists from rival neighborhoods and cities are attacking each other without fear of consequence based on the eye for an eye prerogative of gang culture. They taunt each other while promoting their gang affiliations in their songs. Many of them have made their songs a celebration of their gangster lifestyle marring the two cultures so closely that many of them are willing to murder rival artists over silly things such as gang affiliation, disrespectful lyrics or simple jealousy.           2020 has become the deadliest year so far in the new independent HipHop era. Dozens of upcoming artists have been murdered by rival artistes and their gangs. The police don’t seem to care as they once did as long as the violence remains gang related. Politicians aren’t implementing policies to address the violence because nobody is petitioning them about it. The only people left who can encourage Hip-Hop artists to save the culture from the violence that is killing it are the industry insiders. At this point however, there doesn’t seem to be anyone interested in making a move to stop the violence. I think the general consensus among the movers and shakers in the industry might be that Hip-Hop is too big of a cultural force to stop. They better think again because there is nothing too big to stop. There will come a time when enough people will get fed up with the shootings and killings and begin to vilify the whole culture again. The general public will move to get Hip-Hop banned off social media, streaming services, and out of performance venues. Perhaps only then will the violent-prone wannabe gangsters in Hip-Hop wise up and stop trying to destroy it. #hiphop

Integral Dohgon

[headfullofstories]

Truly Monstrous Luck - part 1

   I didn’t think my day could get any worse. I lost my job after I got evicted when my landlord thought my testosterone was fucking heroine, my wallet got stolen - thanks, New York - and that meant my bus card and my money, So I have to walk from Manhattan to my brother's house in The Bronx, in the rain, without an umbrella. I thought this was the worst my day could get. Boy, was I wrong.

I was on 1st Avenue heading towards the Willis Avenue bridge, when I heard footsteps behind me. I didn't think anything of it for the first few minutes - it's New York, a lot of people live here. But these footsteps sounded like someone was wearing tap shoes, crisp and loud and menacing. It made me nervous, sure, but I didn’t think they were dangerous. The only thing of any value I had on me was my phone, this shitty old Motorola Droid X I bought used when I was 13. Even if I did get mugged, I don't think anyone wants a 9 year old smartphone, so the worst that would happen is I would get a little roughed up. Big deal, I've dealt with worse.

But as I crossed 86th Street, the footsteps behind me sped up, and as I crossed in front of an alley I felt a pull from behind me. Then I started to really panic. A thousand horrific thoughts flashed through my head then as I was pulled into the dark alley, but none of them come close to what actually happened.

The person who had been following me was a guy who looked a little older than me, maybe 24. He wore a 3 piece suit with a golden tie and a pair of dress boots, and he held a solid black umbrella. He held me by the throat, pinned against the wall and out of sight of passers-by. I was shocked for a moment, unsure what happened - this guy was really strong. Inhumanly strong. After the shock settled a little, my mind was clouded with fear. Bad things can happen in dark alleyways, and I wasn't about to become another fucking statistic. I pulled at the man's hand, desperately trying to break free. But the man in the suit had an iron grip, keeping me firmly in place, several inches off of the ground. My fight or flight had already kicked in, and I was kicking at this man with all of the force I had, which was admittedly low since I had walked 15 blocks in the rain with a binder on, not a healthy combo. Combined with the pressure on my windpipe, I could barely breathe.

The man laughed as he held me there, weak and pathetic, fighting for dear life and on the verge of tears.

"It's worthless, little boy." He growled, and I saw now he had a pair of long white canines. "There's no escape now."

Oh, fuck no. No no no no, those things aren't real. Monsters don't exist. they shouldn't, at least…

"W-what do you want?" I wheezed, tears pricking at my eyes. I started feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

"I might kill you. Drain your blood, leave you here for someone to find you." He starts, nodding his head from side to side as if weighing his options. "Or maybe I could turn you. Curse you with eternal life, give you the thirst for blood… which would you prefer?"

"I… I don't wanna die." I whimpered, not fully thinking what I was saying, tears streaming down my face.

"Unfortunately that's not an option, dollface." He smirked. "But I'll give you the next best thing." And with that, he plunged his fangs into my neck.

Up until this point, I had tried to convince myself that this dude was just some fucked up lunatic with coincidentally long teeth. But as soon as he bit me, there was no denying it. This asshole was a vampire, and I was fully about to die. Fuck, what am I gonna tell Justin? I guess nothing, he probably wouldn’t believe me anyways, if I even survive.

I thought that getting bit would hurt a lot more than it did, but it felt a lot like getting a shot - not painless, but unpleasant. I could feel the life being sucked out of me, and the longer it went on the more hazy my consciousness became. I fully lost consciousness after 10 seconds. The last thing I remember is his breath on my neck as my humanity melted away.

I wake up as I feel someone grabbing me around the torso. My vision is hazy and I feel hungry. My mind is hazy, I can’t manage to think of anything but death. I do my best to focus on what’s happening, who’s grabbing me, and slowly my vision clears and I can see that I’m in the arms of a hulking humanoid with green skin and an underbite with two giant protruding from its mouth. I start to panic all over again. What happened after I passed out? How long was I out? I start flailing frantically, trying to escape the clutches of this green-skinned monster. It notices me squirming, and holds me out at arms length by my underarms. Its silver eyes look me up and down, and as it seems to notice the fear in my eyes its own expression softens.

“Wh-who are you?” I manage to say as my mind fills with thoughts of escape, get away, kill whoever stops you and I hold back the urge to bite this thing. “What happened? Am I dead?”

Its eyes fill with a look of hurt and grief. “God, you’re so young. Fucking monsters, doing this to a kid…” Its - their? - voice is gruff, but more in a butch lesbian way than an MMA fighter way. Their face lightens a little, forcibly, eyes still full of grief. “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Yvonne, I work with a group that’s supposed to stop shit like this from happening to kids like you. Fuck, these assholes get so damn confident on rainy days…"

"Why did you grab me?" I ask slowly, suppressing the overwhelming thoughts of death as much as I can. "Why didn't you just leave me there?"

They take a deep breath and go down to their knees and set me on the ground, still holding onto my sides, so we're eye to eye. "Fledglings like you are often overwhelmed by their desires. I can see the bloodlust in your eyes, kid, and you're doing a hell of a job suppressing them like this. But by the time the sun sets you will have drawn blood, and that has caused a lot of good kids a lot of grief the day after. The group I work for works to prevent things like this - vampirism and lycanthropy and the like - from being spread, but sometimes shit like his happens, someone gets infected, and we have a responsibility to contain those kids, give them resources for dealing with their passive urges, help them get their fix in a way that doesn't put anyone at risk."

"I am dead." I mutter, going limp in Yvonne's arms and start crying. "Fuck, the universe won't give me a break, will it?"

"I'm sorry, baby." Yvonne mutters, pulling me back towards their - her? - chest and holding me in a tight hug. "Shit, 10 minutes and I would've been there, 10 minutes and this wouldn't've happened to you."

"Wh-why do you care about me?" I whimper, curling up in her arms. "I… I'm just some stupid kid."

"Everyone deserves someone who looks out for them, baby." She sighs. "I wouldn't wish what happened to you on my worst enemies. This area is my responsibility, this happened on my streets, I need to make sure you don't think you're alone in this."

"Th-thank you." Is all I can manage, before the thoughts are back at full force and I clutch my head, keeping my head between my legs, my mouth away from Yvonne and my eyes away from any people. I hiss as the thoughts invade my mind like a plague. All I can think about is death, of blood, of killing everyone, of killing this woman who has just shown me overwhelming kindness despite never having met me before. I start crying even harder, trying to make the thoughts go away, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up at Yvonne, a look of complete calm settled over her face - I wonder if she works in healthcare? - as she holds a small labelless juicebox.

"Cow blood." She says simply. "Helps with the urges."

I snatch the box out of her hand, poke the seal open with a fingernail, and chug the metallic liquid inside. It feels wrong, but my mind is so clouded with the need to drink that this seems like the greatest thing I've ever consumed. I feel a little dirty after doing it, but the thoughts are quieter.

“Can we leave?” I ask hesitantly. “I want to learn how to deal with this. And I don’t want to be here anymore.”

She nods, and stands up. “We need to get to Belvedere Castle. Do you have a way of getting home from there?”

I shake my head. “My brother lives in Mott Haven… and someone stole my wallet, so my only way of getting there is walking. All I have is my Motorola Droid.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you want to go to your brother’s house first?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do two subway rides in a row. Plus, I need to figure out… how to tell him.”

She nods again. “You got a name I can call you, baby?”

“Uh, V-Victor.” I respond shakily, everything that’s happened in the past half an hour has me reeling and stressed and convinced that I must’ve just been pushed into oncoming traffic and this is a comatose nightmare, that a monster lady didn’t just have to explain to me that I’m a fucking vampire now. Monsters aren't supposed to be real, they’re not supposed to be able to walk through Manhattan totally unnoticed.

I’m not supposed to be one.

"Well, Victor, you good to walk the mile down to the park?"

I nod. “I… I have a binder on though… I can’t walk very fast.”

She looks confused for a moment, then realization flashes across her face. “That's good to know. We can get you connected to other trans guys at headquarters.”

“Th-there are other guys like me?” I’ve never heard of a trans vampire before.

“Nothing says monsters can’t be queer.” She reasons. “My girlfriend is a lycanthrope.”

I nod, a sense of lingering awe hanging in my mind. There are other people like me. This isn’t as much of a death sentence as I thought it was. It’s just another half an hour of walking to get to Belvedere Castle.

The rain is coming down even harder now, the clouds dark with the threat of thunder. I smile a little at that - I've always loved the sound of thunder. Vampirism isn't gonna fuck that over for me. Nothing can fuck up the pure joy the sound of thunder or sight of lightning gives me.

We head out, and I realize now just how hard it still is to breathe. My throat is burning, my binder is crushingly tight, and on top of that my legs feel like jelly. I do my best to keep pace with Yvonne, which is difficult to do without letting her know anything is wrong.

We get to Park Avenue before I have to pause and catch my breath. I tap Yvonne's arm as I wheeze slightly, leaning on a nearby building as I take as deep of breaths as I can.

"You good, baby?" She asks gently, and I nod in between breaths.

"Fine, just… drained." I mutter, not telling her about how tight my binder is. If she knows she'll make me take it off and that'll be worse than any broken ribs I might get.

"Take your time." She reassures me, leaning against the building and crossing her arms.

I mutter an unintelligible thanks, and take a minute or so to let my heart rate slow down and my lungs return to functioning normally.

"Alright," I sigh as my breathing returns to normal, "I'm good. Let's keep going."

She nods a little hesitantly, but makes no comment. I let out a tiny sigh of relief as we continue towards the park.

Lightning fills the sky by the time we reach Belvedere Castle. I smile wide as the flashes dance through the clouds, high above the highrise buildings of Manhattan. The water in Turtle Pond is constantly shifting under the barrage of the rain, warping the reflections of the trees and the castle above. Yvonne walks around the outside of the building, periodically knocking on stones as she goes, then walking into the castle and disappears as she rounds a corner inside. I trail close behind her, glad to get fully out of the rain. As I turn the corner where Yvonne disappeared, I find myself inside of a real, proper castle, walls lined with sconces fitted with lightbulbs and a giant chandelier hangs from the high ceiling. I run up to follow right at Yvonne’s feet, as the dozen or so people milling about turn to look at us. I can feel the creeping eyes of all of the people around the hall watching me, and I grab onto Yvonne’s shirt like a little kid following his mom. I have never felt less my age than I do at this moment.

“You don’t have to be so nervous, Victor.” She mutters, “Most of them won’t bite you.”

I snort at that, but her comment does little to stop the anxiety welling in my chest. Fuck, today is utter bullshit. It’s not even noon.

Yvonne leads us down a series of hallways, and everywhere we turn there are more people turning to look at me as we pass. I bear my teeth at a few of them out of fear, before remembering that probably has very different implications now that I have horrible vampire fangs. I keep my head down after that. I can still feel all of the eyes on me, but I do my best to ignore it.

“Arthur!” Yvonne yells as she guides us into an office-type room. “We’ve got a new infected!”

A man walks out from a sideroom and glares over at her. “This fucking early?” He hisses, then he sees me poking around from behind Yvonne. His expression shifts from annoyed to sad, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Where?” He grumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“86th and 1st.” She mutters. “He showed a surprising level of self-control right after he woke up. But… I still didn’t get there in time to stop it. The FUCKING train was late and now this kid’s dead.”

“It’s not as much of a death sentence as you think, Yvonne.” Arthur sighs, then looks at me. “What’s your name, son?”

“V-Victor, sir.” I respond quietly. This man is tall, maybe 6’2”, with sharp facial features.  His cheekbones are high, and his nose is a little crooked, and his skin is deathly pale. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a Queen shirt, and he looks like hasn’t slept in a while.

“Well, Victor, I’ve been living like this for 50 years, and I’m perfectly fine… as long as I remember to eat…” he looks at me a little closer, squinting his eyes. “How old are you, kid?”

“Um… I’m twenty…” I squeak, getting a little bit of sensory overload at this point. I pop my knuckles to try and ground myself a little. My binder suddenly feels a lot tighter again.

“Jesus fuckin christ…” he groans, resting his face in his hand. “those bastards love to turn em young, huh?”

I nod a little, then things start to go out of focus. The room is spinning, my vision blacks out, and before I know it I’m on the ground. Fuck this spandex deathtrap.

[artdaily7]

Marriage by Marianne Moore

This institution, perhaps one should say enterprise out of respect for which one says one need not change one's mind about a thing one has believed in, requiring public promises of one's intention to fulfill a private obligation: I wonder what Adam and Eve think of it by this time, this firegilt steel alive with goldenness; how bright it shows -- "of circular traditions and impostures, committing many spoils," requiring all one's criminal ingenuity to avoid! Psychology which explains everything explains nothing and we are still in doubt. Eve: beautiful woman -- I have seen her when she was so handsome she gave me a start, able to write simultaneously in three languages -- English, German and French and talk in the meantime; equally positive in demanding a commotion and in stipulating quiet: "I should like to be alone;" to which the visitor replies, "I should like to be alone; why not be alone together?" Below the incandescent stars below the incandescent fruit, the strange experience of beauty; its existence is too much; it tears one to pieces and each fresh wave of consciousness is poison. "See her, see her in this common world," the central flaw in that first crystal-fine experiment, this amalgamation which can never be more than an interesting possibility, describing it as "that strange paradise unlike flesh, gold, or stately buildings, the choicest piece of my life: the heart rising in its estate of peace as a boat rises with the rising of the water;" constrained in speaking of the serpent -- that shed snakeskin in the history of politeness not to be returned to again -- that invaluable accident exonerating Adam. And he has beauty also; it's distressing -- the O thou to whom, from whom, without whom nothing -- Adam; "something feline, something colubrine" -- how true! a crouching mythological monster in that Persian miniature of emerald mines, raw silk -- ivory white, snow white, oyster white and six others -- that paddock full of leopards and giraffes -- long lemonyellow bodies sown with trapezoids of blue. Alive with words, vibrating like a cymbal touched before it has been struck, he has prophesied correctly -- the industrious waterfall, "the speedy stream which violently bears all before it, at one time silent as the air and now as powerful as the wind." "Treading chasms on the uncertain footing of a spear," forgetting that there is in woman a quality of mind which is an instinctive manifestation is unsafe, he goes on speaking in a formal, customary strain of "past states," the present state, seals, promises, the evil one suffered, the good one enjoys, hell, heaven, everything convenient to promote one's joy." There is in him a state of mind by force of which, perceiving what it was not intended that he should, "he experiences a solemn joy in seeing that he has become an idol." Plagued by the nightingale in the new leaves, with its silence -- not its silence but its silences, he says of it: "It clothes me with a shirt of fire." "He dares not clap his hands to make it go on lest it should fly off; if he does nothing, it will sleep; if he cries out, it will not understand." Unnerved by the nightingale and dazzled by the apple, impelled by "the illusion of a fire effectual to extinguish fire," compared with which the shining of the earth is but deformity -- a fire "as high as deep as bright as broad as long as life itself," he stumbles over marriage, "a very trivial object indeed" to have destroyed the attitude in which he stood -- the ease of the philosopher unfathered by a woman. Unhelpful Hymen! "a kind of overgrown cupid" reduced to insignificance by the mechanical advertising parading as involuntary comment, by that experiment of Adam's with ways out but no way in -- the ritual of marriage, augmenting all its lavishness; its fiddle-head ferns, lotus flowers, opuntias, white dromedaries, its hippopotamus -- nose and mouth combined in one magnificent hopper, "the crested screamer -- that huge bird almost a lizard," its snake and the potent apple. He tells us that "for love that will gaze an eagle blind, that is like a Hercules climbing the trees in the garden of the Hesperides, from forty-five to seventy is the best age," commending it as a fine art, as an experiment, a duty or as merely recreation. One must not call him ruffian nor friction a calamity -- the fight to be affectionate: "no truth can be fully known until it has been tried by the tooth of disputation." The blue panther with black eyes, the basalt panther with blue eyes, entirely graceful -- one must give them the path -- the black obsidian Diana who "darkeneth her countenance as a bear doth, causing her husband to sigh," the spiked hand that has an affection for one and proves it to the bone, impatient to assure you that impatience is the mark of independence not of bondage. "Married people often look that way" -- "seldom and cold, up and down, mixed and malarial with a good day and bad." "When do we feed?" We occidentals are so unemotional, we quarrel as we feed; one's self is quite lost, the irony preserved in "the Ahasuerus tête à tête banquet" with its "good monster, lead the way," with little laughter and munificence of humor in that quixotic atmosphere of frankness in which "Four o'clock does not exist but at five o'clock the ladies in their imperious humility are ready to receive you"; in which experience attests that men have power and sometimes one is made to feel it. He says, "what monarch would not blush to have a wife with hair like a shaving-brush? The fact of woman is not `the sound of the flute but every poison.'" She says, "`Men are monopolists of stars, garters, buttons and other shining baubles' -- unfit to be the guardians of another person's happiness." He says, "These mummies must be handled carefully -- `the crumbs from a lion's meal, a couple of shins and the bit of an ear'; turn to the letter M and you will find that `a wife is a coffin,' that severe object with the pleasing geometry stipulating space and not people, refusing to be buried and uniquely disappointing, revengefully wrought in the attitude of an adoring child to a distinguished parent." She says, "This butterfly, this waterfly, this nomad that has `proposed to settle on my hand for life.' -- What can one do with it? There must have been more time in Shakespeare's day to sit and watch a play. You know so many artists are fools." He says, "You know so many fools who are not artists." The fact forgot that "some have merely rights while some have obligations," he loves himself so much, he can permit himself no rival in that love. She loves herself so much, she cannot see herself enough -- a statuette of ivory on ivory, the logical last touch to an expansive splendor earned as wages for work done: one is not rich but poor when one can always seem so right. What can one do for them -- these savages condemned to disaffect all those who are not visionaries alert to undertake the silly task of making people noble? This model of petrine fidelity who "leaves her peaceful husband only because she has seen enough of him" -- that orator reminding you, "I am yours to command." "Everything to do with love is mystery; it is more than a day's work to investigate this science." One sees that it is rare -- that striking grasp of opposites opposed each to the other, not to unity, which in cycloid inclusiveness has dwarfed the demonstration of Columbus with the egg -- a triumph of simplicity -- that charitive Euroclydon of frightening disinterestedness which the world hates, admitting:

"I am such a cow, if I had a sorrow, I should feel it a long time; I am not one of those who have a great sorrow in the morning and a great joy at noon;" which says: "I have encountered it among those unpretentious protegés of wisdom, where seeming to parade as the debater and the Roman, the statesmanship of an archaic Daniel Webster persists to their simplicity of temper as the essence of the matter:

`Liberty and union now and forever;'

the book on the writing-table; the hand in the breast-pocket."

Winslow Homer 1874 Moonlight, oil on canvas, PC