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bikerjongho · 3 years

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welcoming song | song mingi

genre: supernatural, horror

characters: vampire!mingi ft. vampire!jongho

description: After a millennium of imprisonment for crimes, the dark, powerful, and vampiric Lord Song returns home and catches up with his life that passed him by.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: violence, murder, explicit mentions of a dead body, blood

author’s note: happy birthday mingi and welcome back from your hiatus!! I hope your day is amazing, special, and you enjoy it to the fullest <3 and now onto evil vampires.

taglist: @itsapapisongo @mangomingki @irehlevant @blueprint-han @doievoir

For thousands of years, the Song mansion had withstood the test of time. Nestled in the dead-center of a lush forest, the mansion had proved itself to have incognito techniques as only few ever found it. Lucky travelers and explorers would get to experience the towering and magnificent architecture of the home, the addicting fragrances of the flowers that seemed to never die, and the unnaturally clear pool of water that looked to be the drink of the gods. All of this was available for them to drink in, and yet they were still thirsty, for if the outside was as glorious as it was, surely the inside would prove similar.

No sooner did these travelers step foot on the marble staircase leading to the doorway did the hidden arrows built into the bird feeders release and rob them of life. Wild bears and decomposers alike took delight in the delicacy of human flesh lying quite literally at their front door. When the mess was cleaned by the hungry animals, the stage would again be set for another unsuspecting victim to be drawn in by the beauty of the mansion. Because while the mansion had the looks and was clearly adept at drawing people in, the mansion was not to be entered by anyone other than the owner. And he hadn't stepped inside in over a thousand years.

The travelers were correct in assuming that the inside of the mansion was beautiful. Much like how the outside of the mansion lured in curious travelers to the front porch only to be transported to the doorstep of the afterlife, the inside swarmed with even more beauty. But this beauty was not soft and warm like the outside. It was as sharp as a blade, and just as piercing as an animal's teeth gnawing on meat.

There were over fifty vampires in this mansion, each adorned with fangs and priceless clothing. The vampires had been living inside the Song mansion since the days where it was new, and they worked hard to conserve its attractive looks. Though their hearts didn't beat, they moved with the swiftness of the most nimble humans and worked endlessly for the hope that one day, Lord Song would return.

Every golden piece of pottery was glimmering at all times, and the floors were like mirrors because of how reflective they always were. Cleaning in this household was no issue because of the sheer amount of vampires that were in this mansion, but there was also never anyone to mess up any of their work. The pillows were always too fluffed and the fireplace too kindled, and this was like that because of the hope that Lord Song would return. The mansion had to look spotless and perfect, to tell him that even after a thousand years, his servants were still as servile to him as they had been before he had been taken from them so unexpectedly.

But unbeknownst to the vampires, the anniversary of one millennium had passed and the prison sentence for a man was finally lifted. Black and buckled boots made their way through the forest, a cloak of the same color billowing behind the wearer. The traveler inhaled sharply when he saw the immortal beauty of the mansion, and increased his speed to the front porch. As usual, the sharp arrows shot out from their hiding places to pierce the newcomer, but the newcomer knew of this trick. After all, he was the one that had installed it.

A pale hand shot out and caught the sharp arrow. His eyes swiveled to the left to glance at the point of the arrow that was only inches from his face, inspecting it. Then, with a swift flick of his wrist, the arrow was snapped in two.

Mingi Song had arrived home at last.

His knock at the door sent reverberations across the entire mansion, and every vampire snapped their heads to the direction of the sudden noise. There hadn't been a knock at the door in a thousand years.

A small child with a mop of black hair and eyes as big as tennis balls clung to his mother's dress and stared at the door. His small fangs dug into his teeth and he huddled in close to his mother in fear. "Did the arrows-" he whispered, but his mother cut him off.

"The arrows never miss."

She said this with a shake in her voice, and all of the vampires could hear it. All eyes, red, black, yellow ones, were glued to the door and this mysterious visitor that had somehow bypassed their impenetrable security.

Finally, a vampire woman with long and silky black hair stepped forward towards the door in a move of bravery. Her hand shook as she grabbed the cold handle of the brass doorknob. She turned around and looked at her vampiric brethren. When Lord Song had been taken to jail because of his war crimes, none were given an estimate of when he would return. Many thought he had died. The majority held it within themselves that he would return someday. This person at the door, whoever they were, was not just some traveller. They could have been another vampire from the Song family taking ownership over them, or an entirely different vampire that wanted to kill them all or take them for their own.

But none of them truly expected Lord Song to be at the doorstep.

The all-familiar sight of his crimson red eyes caused most of the children vampires to burst into bloody tears. Mothers and fathers gathered them in a hug to soothe them, but couldn't close their mouths while they gaped at their Lord Song.

Prison had hardened him, but in the same way that polish on metal made the hard material shine even brighter. Despite being immortal, he looked older, but he had a new glint to his sharp, red eyes that suggested that the recklessness of his youth had subsided. His hair had been a tangy orange upon his arrest, and now it was a dark and jet black that rested over his forehead. He was tall as ever with a commanding presence that was frightful to enemies and comforting to friends.

His crimson eyes glanced over all of the vampires in his walkway. Some had been on the second floor and were frozen over the banister at his sight.

"Lord Song," a vampire finally said. "You've returned."

Mingi held out his arms and enveloped a child running towards him, smiling as he spun her around and she giggled with glee. "You all seem well," he said, and many of the vampires began to fan themselves to stop tears from running.

He placed the child back into the ground and walked forward. His knee connected with a small and wooden table by the entrance to the foyer, and the potted plant that had been placed on it tipped and shattered onto the floor.

Mingi's eyes were wide with shock, but this only caused even more tears and happiness within the crowd of vampires.

"Lord Song, I'll clean it up!" a woman cried.

"I will! It's my pleasure!" Another sobbed.

A millennium of meaningless dusting, sweeping, and wiping for anticipation of Lord Song now had meaning. And for the vampires of Lord Song, cleaning was the least they could do to show their admiration and loyalty to him.

A child pushed away from his mother and, disregarding a dust pan and broom another vampire had ran in with, began picking up the glass pieces with his bare hands. Blood prickled on his palms before spilling out onto the floor as he cleaned.

Mingi, surprised only moments ago, was grinning at the child. "Why, thank you," he said softly, then stepped over the child like he was a toy in the way of his steps. His long and black cloak brushed over the child's head without concern. Some of the vampires had fallen to their knees. Others averted their gaze to hide the tears of happiness in their eyes.

"Lord Song," a man sobbed. "I've missed you. You've returned."

"Tell us of your troubles that you faced while you were gone so that we might soothe you," another suggested, wiping away their bloody red tears with a white cloth.

Mingi surveyed all of them with his eyes, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. "I'd like that," he said after a minute. "You all have kept this home in perfect condition. Let us have a drink while I tell my tales." He smiled with a glimmer in his eyes. "There's much to say. A millennium, however short that is in our lifetime of forever, is still long."

The beautiful and enormous dining hall, which had been bare and dull for a millennium, was waking back up with Lord Song's presence. The vampires cracked open aged blood and ushered Mingi into the hall with the grace of a palace servant. One pulled out his seat for him, while another was unfastening his traveling cloak and black gloves. The rest ogled at him like he was a magnificent piece of art in a museum.

Fancy glasses that hadn't seen light in so long were shining by the light of the chandeliers and candles. The cool, crimson liquid in the glasses swirled around as the vampires amused Lord Song with stories and tales that had been thousands of years in the making. A little boy excitedly told Mingi about the new species of bacteria that had spread around the mansion in the course of six months over three hundred years ago, and his mother told the story of the wild pack of bears that had nearly ransacked the house, stopped only by the mansion's poisonous and lethal breed of ants that lived in the lawn. But it all ceased when the binder of suitors was brought to the table.

A vampire with a monocle and poster straighter than a board dumped a six inch binder in front of Mingi with no preamble. He adjusted his tie while Mingi raised his eyebrows, and the rest of the vampires grinned at him with their fangs expectantly.

"Much time has passed during your absence," the monocled vampire began, and Mingi recognized him as one of the sparse British vampires in the mansion because of his accent. "We had grown bored of boredom during your absence. Days and years passed us by with a wink. Isolation can make you do many things," he said, and tapped the binder with his pointer finger.

"This is a matchmaker binder," he began, and Mingi's eyes widened as the vampire flipped it open and he was greeted with tens of faces on each page. There must have been thousands of pages. "We weren't sure if you liked men or women, or both, so we have everyone," he said casually, and flipped from a grouping of women to a section of men.

"My God," Mingi breathed. "Pray tell, why-"

"She's pretty, isn't she?" The vampire asked and pointed to a woman in the binder with dark hair down to her shoulders.

"Yes," Mingi began, but the vampires were too excited to let him speak.

"I like this one," cut another one, pointing to a man with blonde hair and a large smile. "He's also a Lord. I would marry him if I wasn't so low class."

"This one looks like he could kiss me until the sun rises," a girl sighed and pointed to a man in the binder. "And then we'd evaporate together. That's love, isn't-"

"Enough," Mingi said abruptly, pushing away the binder from himself and silencing the vampires. "Enough," he repeated, rubbing his brow.

"What's the matter?" The original vampire that had given him the binder asked. A hundred pairs of eyes leaned in closer for his response.

"Why did you do this?" Mingi sighed, looking at all of his vampires with contempt. He lifted the glass of blood to his lips and took a long drink. A hundred pairs of eyes watched every last drop dribble into his mouth, and then he set down the glass. "This is childish."

At that, many of the vampires sunk into each other in embarrassment. The monocled vampire coughed. "You are a fine man," he said simply. "We thought it would be a good idea to get you interested in the vampires available so you may extend the Song family for millennia to come. Many vampires of your class in recent years have found that marriage is a wonderful experience to behold in life."

"And as soon as I got back from my imprisonment was your best time to tell me about this?" Mingi snapped and the monocled vampire bowed his head in shame. "I was hoping to share my stories, not engage in some mindless and useless talks about love."

The vampires hung their heads. "I'm sorry, Lord Song," the monocled vampire lamented, sliding the enormous binder off the table and securing it in his arms. "We won't bring it up again."

A little vampire, a girl that looked no more than eight years old, appeared next to Mingi. "Lord Song," she spoke in a voice that was small but had hundreds of hidden years behind it, "tell us your stories now."

The room hushed and chairs squeaked across the floor as the vampires leaned towards Mingi. A thousand years was not even a twentieth of a vampire's lifetime, but it was still long. Eager ears awaited to hear the experience that Mingi had gone through during his time in jail.

Mingi cleared his throat and surveyed them all once again. Jail had been terrible and boring. It was the price he had paid for the crimes he had committed as a younger and reckless vampire, but he couldn't say that he regretted doing any of it. Mingi had taken himself and all two hundred of his servants to town after town, mowing through houses and draining the residents of their blood. The screaming of the townspeople had only made their own blood curl, and blood with adrenaline tasted richer. Despite being a dead being, Mingi had never felt so alive in that moment. It had been a display of power, a display of the awesome and terrible Song family that had roamed for eons.

But no one else had found it funny, especially the supernatural council that had reigned at the time. Mingi's name protected him from the worst of punishments, but not even he could squirrel himself out of an extended period behind bars. His servants had been sent back to his home and had been locked in with no idea of when Mingi would return, and Mingi had rotted in a cell for a thousand years. It wasn't all bad, though - there were vampires like him, burning with the desire to escape but burdened all the same with exhaustion and the cage that surrounded them. Mingi had lots of time to reflect on his actions, and he had come to the conclusion that if he was to do such an event again, he'd have to be much more discreet about it.

But now he was home. Mingi described the bad conditions of the jail to his enraptured crowd, preached about the terrible clothing he had to have on his back and vocalized the terrible treatment that the jail had given him. With every word, the shock on the vampires' faces melted into anger and sadness.

"Lord Song," many of them sobbed, "we are so sorry you had to go through that."

"What's done is done," Mingi murmured. "Stop crying. It's over now. Rejoice that I'm back."

And amongst the sudden cheers that yes, Lord Song had returned, Mingi smiled. A sliver of fear had baked inside of him when he had been released. He had been concerned over the thought that his brigade of vampires had deserted him. After all, a thousand years inside of a house with nothing to do was not an enjoyable time. But his stupidly obsequious servants had stayed locked in the house all the same.

The arrows at the front of the mansion only hurt those coming towards the mansion. They could have left any time they wanted to. But Mingi relished in the idea that they knew fully well of the arrows that were awaiting if they ever decided to come crawling back. His servants were locked in, and Mingi now knew with confidence that the leash he had on them was tighter than a double-knotted knot.

He raised his empty glass and savored the multiple vampires that tripped over chairs and table legs to reach his glass and refill it. He had them wrapped around his finger.

The next week allowed Mingi to be acclimated back into his home. The couches he rested on gave him peace and restfulness that he had forgotten he could feel during his time on the rock-hard floors of the prisons. The constant vampires that were begging to wait on him was also a complete change from before. But while his servants entertained him and kept him company, Mingi longed to talk to someone on his own caliber. So the next day, Jongho was on his back doorstep.

Only friends knew that the back door was the correct door to enter if they liked to keep their brains inside their head, and even then Lord Choi was smart. "Mingi," Lord Choi exclaimed when he was brought to the dining hall by Mingi's servants and saw him at the table. "It's wonderful to see you once again."

Like all vampires, Lord Choi hadn't aged a day since Mingi had last seen him. The only noticeable difference in his features was his now slicked back dark hair that gave him a more mature look, a look he never would have attempted thousands of years ago. He still had muscle on his arms, if not more, and his black and large eyes that seemed to catch every visual in Mingi's mansion had grown softer, more tempered. Something had tethered him down, and Mingi was curious to find out what it was.

The two of them circled one another in a hug, patting each others' backs as they laughed at their reunion. "How long has it been?" Jongho laughed when they broke apart. "A thousand years?"

"A thousand years," Mingi repeated. "What have you gotten yourself into?" He asked as Mingi's servants led the two of them to their seats at Mingi's long dinner table and sat them down. He expected Jongho to launch into a terrible and exciting story about a murder spree - he was famous for those when Mingi had last known seen him.

But Mingi was wrong. Jongho was more than happy to talk about his disciplined and mild travels he had done around the world. While a glass of red liquid was poured out for him and Mingi, he talked about his travels around Europe, Asia, and most recently, North America.

"I was most impressed by the humans' ability to be clean," he said as he took a long drink of his blood. "A bit of a shame because blood was so much easier to obtain when humans threw the carcasses of each other outside of doorsteps when plague raged. And I quite enjoyed the phase of blood-letting. But now, at least there's no more human feces for me to step upon when I stroll through the neighborhoods in London. I call that a win."

"You'll have to tell me about that," Mingi said and raised his eyebrows. Vampires didn't need to use the bathroom or sleep, but Jongho was glad to explain the modern wonder of indoor plumbing.

"And I think Ireland was my favorite place to visit," Jongho continued. "I was there about two-hundred years ago. Met some interesting humans, I had a book written after me as well. You may know of the book."

"Quite highly of you to think that I was allowed to read in prison," Mingi said, not unkindly, and Jongho laughed.

"Just a little book about vampires. Written by Bram Stoker."

"Never heard of it," Mingi said, and Jongho once again shook his head.

"We need to go on a trip together at some point," Jongho smiled. "To get you accustomed to the new world. You would be surprised how much human innovation has happened in the millennia you missed."

Jongho went on to continuing his life story that Mingi had missed, and Mingi was amazed to listen. Prison had been hard. It had been boring and harrowing, but he had survived, in the end. But he couldn't help but feel a pinprick of jealousy as Jongho described his tales and freedom he had, even if his adventures weren't as violent as he would have guessed. Jongho, like Mingi, had taken his vampire servants many times through towns for blood feasts. But Jongho had perfected the art of subtlety and remaining underneath the radars of watchful vampire councils that made sure none of them stepped out of line. He had found a way to let his innate vampire desires tear through himself and never subject himself to the horrors and pain of prison.

Mingi listened, but his ears turned greener as Jongho continued on about his life.

It wasn't until Mingi's servants arrived with that too-familiar courting binder of vampires did Jongho stop talking. Mingi opened his mouth to shoo them off, but the book was placed in front of Jongho and the vampire that had placed it cleared her throat.

"We hope you don't mind, Lord Choi, but we've come up with a few potential suitors, both male and female, that you may be interested in," she said, giving a bright smile to Jongho. Jongho's mouth twitched and he burst into laughter.

"Lord Choi?" The vampire asked, gasping. "Is something wrong?" Mingi looked at his servant and Jongho, equally as confused as she was.

"No, nothing," he said, "it's just that I'm married already."

"You're what?" Mingi choked and the vampire flushed with what little blood she had left in her body.

"Married, like I said, you missed a lot," Jongho said and reached in his coat pocket for a piece of paper. He threw it on the table, and it was a photo of a bright and smiling woman with blonde hair. "This is Analise, my beloved of almost seven-hundred years."

"Seven-hundred years?" Mingi gaped. The female vampire that had given Jongho the binder was already dragging it away from him, her face hidden by her hair.

"Yes, and she's wonderful," Jongho said casually, shrugging. "It's simply the way of life. I'm sure you'll find someone."

Mingi made a mental note to go back to his own binder later. "I never thought you'd get married," he said, and Jongho smiled.

"And neither did I. But sometimes, you just meet someone," he sighed, then looked at Mingi. "I haven't felt the need to go out and ravage towns or humans now that I have her. She keeps me occupied and happy."

Mingi's question as to why Jongho seemed more calm was finally answered, but it was accompanied by bubbling discomfort. "She must be truly amazing," he said through his teeth.

"She is," Jongho sighed, and then went into stories about her. The stories warped back into tales about his travels around the world, and soon night had fallen across the sky. Jongho couldn't have left the mansion earlier because of the sun and he hadn't brought a cloak, but now the moon could aid him in walking back into town.

"Be sure to come with me to Australia," Jongho said and hugged Mingi before he left. "It'll be lots of fun." And then he smiled, and Mingi's heart broke at how soft he had become.

"Of course," he said, giving a painful smile. Jongho grinned and left the mansion through the back door.

Mingi was back with his thoughts. He watched Jongho walking away through a window and retreated to his study. He sat down at his desk to write something on a piece of paper with a quill. When he realized all of his ink had dried up over the course of a thousand years, he begrudgingly took his glass of blood from earlier and wrote one phrase onto the paper using it: never to be sanguine.

It was a phrase that he and the rest of the vampires at the prison had learned and repeated to each other. Because while sanguine meant blood-red, it also meant that a person was blindingly optimistic and cheerful. And Mingi ached to never, ever, become like that. To be optimistic, to be sweet and kind and cheery, was to ignore the inhumanity of being a vampire. It was to align with humans more than vampires, their own kind. He had lost Jongho to the sanguine nature.

"Not like Jongho," he said, his hand shaking as he finished the end of the word sanguine. "Never like him." Because if prison had taught him anything, it was to be patient, it was to be quiet.

It was to be unassuming. Mingi rushed to his vampires. He must have seemed shocked, because the vampires nearly fell to the floor into a bow. "I need that matchmaker binder," he said. "My binder. The one you tried to give me a few days ago."

"But Lord Song," the vampire said, quivering, "you didn't even want-"

"I want it now," Mingi growled and the vampire shook. He left and came back a minute later with the book in his hands. Mingi yanked it from his arms and stormed back into his study.

Analise had made Jongho soft. The vampire council must have seen this, they must have known this. He flipped through the book until he found a page of attractive people.

A partner was exactly how Mingi could keep going with evil misdeeds and remain under the radar of the council that could reprimand him. The council must have had the impression that a partner would tame him, just like Analise had done with Jongho. And even if his partner ended up hating him for who he was and the actions he did, he could pay them a handsome sum to keep quiet. It was the perfect disguise.

"Marriage," Mingi murmured, and looked at his bare ring finger. A ring would allow his greatest diabolical plans that he had thought of in prison to come to life. He stood up and walked out of his study with the proposal of proposing in his mind. "The secret to staying hidden is to hide in plain sight."

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littleogreboii · 4 years

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Soleil

Summary:

God of death with a gaze of woe, spoke to me and he told me so: "Fast, before I will lose control, please, have mercy and save my soul."

If you were to ask Soul, Maka was the sun and Soul was the moon, and Maka deserved the world.

Warnings:

Major Character Death | Brief Description of a Dead Body

AN:

This is based off the song Soleil by Toraboruta-P and I used the English translyrics by JoyDreamer. You can find her cover here. I personally really like Lizz's cover. I just think Lizz's softer voice goes with the tone of the song a bit more.

It’s like midnight for me at the moment so I apologise if there’s any mistakes or if it’s just generally trash, but like it’s too late now.

AO3

God of death with a gaze of woe, spoke to me and he told me so:

"Fast, before I will lose control, please, have mercy and save my soul."

Maka looks upon the being that used to resemble her dearest friend. If she looks closely she can still almost see ribbons of pink hair bursting out of the darkness. The ribbons are fast decreasing and she knows it won’t be long until they’re fully lost.

Soul pushes Maka back, brandishing a scythe to protect them from the blades. “Maka. Pay attention.” He thrusts the scythe forward and leaps back, reaching out to pull Maka with him.

“But Soul…” She breaths, hand ghosting her mouth. “Can’t you hear?” It’s evident in the way Soul doesn’t hesitate to defend the two of them that he can’t, but it’s all she can hear.

“Save me.” The being cries. “Help.” They continue. And the voice is so familiar that Maka fails to suppress a shudder.

“Chrona.” She whispers and that catches Soul’s attention. He puts more distance between them and the being. They retreat into the trees, knowing the being will have a harder time manoeuvering the terrain.

“What do you mean?” He leans against a tree, catching his breath.

“It’s Chrona.” She collapses to her knees. Her hands dig into the dirt as the tears run down her face. “It’s Chrona.”

All the pain you feel, I am sure you didn't wish for that

And the looks that you bear are so grim, those you wear

Maka can remember a simpler time when the three of them were kids. Chrona’s wings had always been slightly darker than her’s and Soul’s, but Maka passed it off as a trick of the light. They hadn’t shared much of their childhood with Soul and Maka, but the flashes Chrona gave away suggested it wasn’t pleasant. They had that in common with Soul.

The most common occurrence in these flashes had been the name ‘Medusa’. Maka had quickly decided she wasn’t a fan of Medusa, but she thought that Chrona was free as long as they were with her and Soul. She’d been wrong.

One day, Chrona had been there, the next, they were gone. Maka had dragged Soul along to search for them and on the way they had encountered many different people. Maka spares a thought for those people whom she knows are waiting in the village for Soul to slay the being. It’s his final trial on his way to adulthood and he bought Maka along. She knows he regrets bringing her, but she can’t remember the last time they’d been separated. Still, with the knowledge that this is Chrona, she can’t bring herself to simply let Soul kill them. There has to be another way.

Maka’s mind flicks back to the woman’s body she’d found on the floor of Medusa’s house. The body had been tainted blue with blisters forming along the arms and face. Dried blood and rotting meat had flooded her senses. A large cut straight through the body’s chest was the last thing she remembers of that day. She couldn’t tell you how she got out. She assumes Soul had something to do with it, always better at biting back his emotions.

She can’t bear the thought of Chrona looking like that woman had. She has to do something now and it has to be fast.

Shining bright, she is like the sun, waiting there for her fate to come

Holding out her hand with the flow, smiling as she then told you so:

Chrona breaks through the last of the trees and Soul rises to protect Maka. Maka rises too. She walks past Soul and pushes his weapon down. She reaches out her arms towards Chrona, allowing a soft smile to take residence upon her face.

She remembers the first time she met Chrona. They’d attempted to steal food from her and Soul. Soul had ended up with a gash from that encounter, but soon after, they’d met again. That time, Maka had offered up some food to Chrona with a careful smile. Chrona had broken down to her not long after that and she’d held their hand through it all. Chrona’s tiny wings had been so fragile back then.

Now, Chrona’s jet black wings cast shadows over Maka’s small frame. She ignores this, extending her arms closer to Chrona.

"It is quite alright, I shall take the darkness that you hold

And I will change your shape, as a bird you can escape

“I’m so sorry, Chrona.” Maka begins, taking another step towards Chrona. “I should have been there for you, but it’s alright now.” She wraps her arms around Chrona, avoiding the blades threatening to dig into her skin. “Yes, it is quite alright.”

The darkness inside Chrona is infectious and the memories they carry with them stream into Maka. The times they all spent together seem so far away with the way Medusa seems to slither into every inch of them. All Maka can see is the harsh words and bitter manipulation Medusa instilled inside of Chrona.

She forces herself to look past that. She thinks of the games they all played together under the shining sun. “I can feel it all. I’m so sorry, but it’s ok now. I shall take it all away.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think we can return to how things were before, but it’s not too late.” She hugs Chrona tighter. “Yes, I think a bird would be perfect for you.”

You can fly to place far away, in the sky you are free everyday

If you don't have a goal or a prey, then it's fine 'cause with me you can stay"

Soul watches as Chrona begins to morph. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of the old Chrona. He sees the lilac hair and lanky stature that they always carried. It fades as more of the darkness seeps away. He watches the darkness make it’s bed in Maka’s arms, soaking them in ashen tones. He tells himself it’s ok. Maka is strong.

Maka continues her speech. “As a bird, you’ll be free to go wherever. Medusa will never find you.” She hesitates. “But, if you have nowhere to go, you’re always welcome to stay with me, Chrona.” She leans her head against Chrona. “Always.”

Maka is forced to release them as they shift even further. She shudders, a permanent chill settling into her spine. Soul comes up beside her and wraps her in a side hug. She leans into it, drowning herself in the scent of his sweat. Anything other than blood.

White as told, wings unfold, here it stays, following always

The black in Chrona’s wings bleeds out, replaced with a blinding white. They’re far whiter than Soul’s wings have ever been and he worries Maka has overdone it. Chrona shrinks down, seemingly into ash, until all that remains are their wings. Out from the ash a white dove appears and Soul can tell Chrona remembers everything now.

The bird flies out of the ashes, high into the air and the sunlight reflects off their wings. Maka faces Soul shooting him a reassured smile, but Soul can only watch Chrona. He’s enchanted by the way Maka washed away all of Chrona’s darkness with such ease. Chrona returns to the two of them, fluttering about at eye level.

Soul’s eyes are drawn behind Chrona to the dark cloud approaching from the village.

Many more are wanting now her to save them all somehow

And the girl was reaching out saving them without a doubt

It’s to be expected that everyone flocks to Maka wanting them to purge the darkness from them as well. The greed only increases the darkness and people are becoming tainted faster than before. They wave off their sins, knowing Maka will be there to save them at the moment they lose themselves. Soul can only watch from the side as her wings begin to taint.

The first boy she helps is one she’s met before. He’d introduced himself as Kid back then. He’d been tainted by his obsession with symmetry. It had driven him to the point of wanting to reduce everything to zero to create a ‘perfect’ world. However, the first step for a perfect world involved eliminating humans as they are the biggest wrongs in the world. Maka takes that obsession with nothing less than a smile. She squashes it down when it threatens to overtake her. She thinks of the beauty that the imperfections of the world holds.

The next boy she helps is an obnoxious one. His desire to be the strongest had set him down the path of the demon and he’d thrown himself into the darkness full throttle. The girl that accompanies him, introduces him as Black Star. Soul knows the girl will soon follow Black Star into darkness and can only hope that she doesn’t come to Maka when that happens.

Maka steals the desire to be the strongest away and reminds him that power that risks harming those he loves isn’t worth it. Later when Soul asks how she dealt with the darkness Black Star held, she’ll laugh and state that she has so desire to get stronger unless she’s getting stronger alongside Soul. Soul’s heart begins to break at the notion.

The girl finds her way back to them soon after, the darkness absorbing her. Her wings tainted by the lies she’d drowned herself in to keep others happy. Soul finds this one the most pitiful. Her lies made to keep others happy had only brought them misery.

“Tsubaki,” Soul laughs, “Truly a pitiful flower.” He decides the name suits her. However, the laugh fails when he notices the lies that begin to slip past Maka’s tongue with more ease than they used to.

Two siblings appear next. They remind him of Chrona. A life full of misery, only the sibling turned that misery into weapons. Liz and Patty, the demon sisters, a name that the siblings don’t seem to appreciate. Maka struggles to take the darkness from these two. They’ve been holding onto their anger for so long that there’s barely anything left to save, but Maka, ‘perfect angelic’ Maka, does it anyway.

Slowly as all the birds were to fly, she was in there among in the sky

'Cause the birds were all covered in white, she had turned just as dark as the night

Soul finds it harder to be around Maka these days. She snaps over the smallest thing and he spends most of his time walking on eggshells. He can never bring himself to blame her though. He knows that there’s no stopping her and he also knows he could never bring himself to leave her.

More people come and she saves all of them without hesitation. They hardly speak to each other now and Soul longs for the days of their childhood where Maka would smile with all the light in the world.

The day comes when there’s no more light she can give. At that time, the sky is filled with beautiful white birds, but Soul doesn’t care for them. He only has eyes for Maka. He squints through the blinding light rays and finds her in the centre of it all. Her skin no longer glows and her eyes hold no light.

She's consumed by the darkness they bore, she will never wake up anymore

'Cause she used all the strength she would hold, now her body is finally cold

It’s Soul’s turn to remember the body they found all that time ago. He didn’t allow himself to react at the time, too concerned for Maka, but now she’s in the same situation and it’s all he can think about. But, instead of the body, all he can see is Maka led like that. It bubbles up inside him, until he can barely breathe.

He can’t imagine a world without Maka. She’s all he’s had for so long. He can’t remember what his parents look like and it’s been a long time since he heard from Wes. Chrona never stayed for him. Even now, he can spot Chrona circling Maka’s body. He wishes Maka had never saved Chrona. He wishes he had the courage to kill Chrona in the first place. But most importantly, he wishes he’d never brought Maka with him to the edge of the forest to face Chrona in the first place. He’s a coward and it’s cost him his light.

Grieving bird, gave his word, took the pain, darkness and all vain

Maka doesn’t deserve to be cold and empty. She should be full of life and warmth. He curls his hands into fists as he resolves himself. Maka managed to take all that darkness so why couldn’t he? What was stopping him from saving her? Nothing.

His wings had been small for so long, but he focuses all his energy into them, willing them bigger. He needs to be able to fly so he can reach her. He screams as the wings rip out of him, stretching out. Feathers fall off him, but he doesn’t care. The wings remind him of Chrona’s and he reassures himself that his wings remain white for the moment.

Through the clouds up he would fly, birds in black where all over the sky

Now you shine like the gold on the sea, all because you are Soleil

Hesitantly, he beats his wings. Once. Then twice. His whole body shakes under the force and he stumbles forward. He steels himself before running forward towards the edge of the cliff. He jumps up and beats his wings. Up he goes, past the sea of white and into the realm of darkness.

Black birds circle Maka and Chrona, still hoping she’ll save them. They charge him as he passes, trying to pass the darkness onto him. His wings are tearing and he fears he won’t make it. He reaches out his hand and it brushes against Maka’s back. He pushes up and lifts her higher. He keeps flying, carrying Maka with him. Chrona follows and Soul knows they’re encouraging him.

He breaks through the clouds and the light washes over Maka. The darkness floods into Soul, but Soul just watches the way the light warms Maka. His hair dyes white and his eyes flash red. His body shifts and changes, but he’s content to watch the light bounce off Maka’s eyes. She’s finally in her rightful place, under the sun. Her light brown hair glows with the sun.

His wings give one last flap before breaking off. Soul wraps his arms around Maka and allows the darkness to finally take him. He falls, using his body as a cushion for Maka.

It’s a lost cause, but he doesn’t know that.

For just a moment, Soul’s eyes open and he swears he sees the three of them, him, Maka and Chrona, sitting under a tree together as children once more.

#soul eater #soul eater evans #maka albarn #crona gorgon #chrona #crona #how do you spell chrona's name???#soul eater ff #soul eater fanfic #se ff #se fanfic #implied soma #soma #soul x maka #implied soul x maka #soul eater au #se au

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shame-on-nyall · 5 years

Text

guess who’s back for hot milkies!

I haven’t quite finished the last chapter to Hot Milky, which frankly isn’t very good lol, but I wanted to let you know I have been working on it off and on the past 2 years. Here’s a preview under the cut. 1,679 words, enjoy!

Genji was torn between trying to convince Hanzo to stay, remain the selfish boy he used to be, and helping him leave, as he should if he were the honorable sibling he wished Hanzo could see. That one second of indecision somehow prompted the arrival of McCree at the doorway to Hana’s den, complete with triumphant grin and the accompaniment of his charges, Junkrat and Roadhog. Everyone turned to look at the trio in confusion and Hana said brightly, “Hey, Jesse, you just missed Genji getting his ass definitively kicked!”

“Ain’t that right? Well, there’s always another day.” McCree glanced over at Genji and Hanzo, his smile sunny and warm and ever so deadly. “Always another chance to redeem yourself, eh?”

Genji straightened from his loser’s slump with an indignant sound. Before he could say anything in his defense, he noticed out of the corner of his vision Hanzo stilling, then tilting his chin up and back slightly in a familiar gesture out of their childhood. At once, Genji took on a defensive position that matched his brother’s. McCree shook his head exasperatedly and just like that the environment in the den filled with that sort of chaotic barely-contained energy found in the simulation room right before Winston pressed the start button to the AI and unleashed robot hell upon the members of Overwatch.

In a matter of nanoseconds, the brothers completed the mad scramble out the nearest window, made a touch difficult by the breadth of their brawny shoulders, followed by an exhilarating climb up the sheer side of the building. “Just like when we were boys” came to Hanzo’s mind again, this time in a much more light-hearted situation. Some distance below, Jesse and Hana had poked their heads out the window, hollering at the fleeing duo but unable to get Roadhog or Junkrat to their aid. Any further babble was cut off by an explosion of hard light and more screaming from everyone except Satya. At that point, the brothers finally reached the summit of the cliff wall, their escape from the insanity achieved.

They were not alone, as was usually the case within the borders of Watchpoint, for Zarya had just finished a brief perimeter rooftop check and was now going down to investigate the ruckus below. Her sharp eyes caught Hanzo and Genji sliding over the wall and pooling onto the ground in giddy relief.

“What are you two doing up here?” she asked, paused and now regarding them suspiciously.

“We’re just practicing… ninja sorts of things,” Genji answered, as innocently as he could manage. “You know?”

Zarya gave them a look that said in as many words, “I don’t know enough about ninjas to know if you’re telling the truth or not.” Another explosion shook the foundations, more yelling, and deciding that questioning the two would be of less use than supporting whatever was going on within the base, Zarya hurried down the stairs.

“That was close!”

“Too close,” Hanzo muttered, the high of the climb hundreds of meters above the ocean with nary a handhold quickly wearing off. “We will be caught, sooner or later, Genji. This place is a trap filled with absolutely uncontrollable thugs and lunatics.”

“Hey, Satya helped us get away, so technically one of them is a lunatic on our side.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, for he had clearly heard Satya state her intention to kill each and every one of her fellow teammates several times over perhaps almost as often as he had, but instead of saying anything, he scurried to the other trapdoor and the ladder there. “I have most of my things with me, but we will need to hurry. The bounties have become the bounty hunters, and I don’t intend to be captured for their nefarious purposes.”

“What nefarious purposes?” Genji asked, leading the way through the storage room by the light of his visor. “Are you still nervous about a simple check-up, anija?” He tittered at the thought of Mercy commanding McCree and Jamison and Mako about like some sort of warrior goddess directing her high priests.

“Yes!” Hanzo clutched at his jacket fretfully. “This is not the time to be joking around! Help me escape, Genji.”

“And what do I get in return?” Genji retorted, stopping in the hallway and folding his arms childishly.

“You! I will throw you out the window and off the side of this cliff right now.”

“Fine.” He could do so quite easily after all. “We’ll rendezvous at the aircraft hanger, the security is weakest there.” With no further comment, Genji led the way to a little-used corridor that could be their best bet to slip out of Watchpoint.

Although that did not address the fact that Athena may not allow them past the perimeter, nor the valid concern that Overwatch will not easily let a potential member roam free, knowing its secrets. If anything, Overwatch would likely increase their efforts to (re-)capture Hanzo. But for now, a breath of the outside air, a moment away from the weight of the world and expectations, a minute to just be free and safe and together before they must return to reality. Genji would do anything to make that happen for his brother.

Even if it meant blocking McCree with his drawn oodachi so Hanzo could slide past them. Tossing shurikens at the two junkers and at the bystanders gawping at the clash to buy his brother more time to jump off a startled Reinhardt’s shoulders and up into the air duct which really shouldn’t have fit him at all. Darting through maze-like hallways, throwing over his shoulder not the stereotypical ninja smoke bombs but a handful of glitter projection devices that gave off a burst of pink confetti and displayed Hana’s smiling face sparkling in mid-air (very cute) which he snatched from her gaming den after the tournament to distract Soldier76 from tracking them down. Cyborg he may have become, but the rush of blood through Genji’s ears and into his chest seemed to thrum as if he were a boy again, and his face split into a grin beneath his mask. Hanzo had dropped out of the air duct into the hall in front of him and together, they raced for the exit.

They reached the hanger unimpeded, Hanzo following after Genji scanned ahead to make sure no one else from the team lay in wait amidst the tiny fleet of aircraft.

“So are you going to fly out of here?” Genji asked as they approached the jet Lena used to fly.

“These aircraft will be locked down, I wouldn’t have access to the controls as a temporary member,” Hanzo murmured. “I will be leaving on foot.”

“On foot? They can catch up to you, anija!”

“Perhaps.” Hanzo did not sound too bothered by this. “As long as it is not right away… That is all I need.”

“I understand…”

Hanzo stepped toward to the far exit, a simple push door that led outside of the base proper. He saw the flicker of red light just in time and dropped to the ground while Genji, ever swift, darted in front of him. It wasn’t a bullet, otherwise they would have been dead from the accuracy of the shot. Genji grabbed the needle-tipped projectile out of the air, just as it was about to slide into Hanzo’s neck.

The sound of reloading and another shot thunked uselessly off Genji’s left shoulder. Knowing it was a sniper, Hanzo pulled Genji close and frantically searched the aircraft, the scaffolding, any tall secluded point where one of his kind would lay in wait.

Overwatch did not have a sniper in their ranks, not for many years… but that style of shooting, that kind of ammunition… As isolated as he was during his years of wandering, he of course recognized the sniper playing with them. So did Genji, it seem.

“Anija, anija, it’s okay,” he said quietly. “Just a warning shot. She won’t hurt us that much.”

“The Shrike,” Hanzo muttered, still tense, still trying to cover Genji’s body with his own even though Genji had a lot less soft mushy parts to pierce with a syringe. A big brother’s habit. “You don’t know them, they are one of the most accomplished snipers in the world.”

“The Shrike? But… surely that’s Captain Amari…” Genji stared at the needle and syringe in his hand, realizing what he said could not be true. Then again, he began to learn that whoever died did not always stay dead, not if they were needed.

Distracted momentarily, they did not notice a delicate shadow alight on the ground from a distant fire escape heading towards them with deliberate steps. Hanzo began to back away once he finally tracked the sniper’s movement, keeping Genji behind him.

“What do you want?” Hanzo asked, his tone and stance indicating that if it was Genji they wanted, they would have to get through him first.

The figure paused, assessing them, then stepped forward into a circle of light. An elderly woman, slight build but with a proud bearing, a patch over one eye, carrying a magnificent custom sniper rifle.

“You are the Shrike?” he asked tensely.

The woman nodded at him, smiling peacefully though not letting go of her rifle. “Hello. It is good to finally meet a rival, Hanzo.”

“A-are you not… Ana Amari?” Genji asked in a faltering tone, unable to believe his eyes. Everything about this woman he had never seen before, and yet he knew her somehow, as closely as he knew McCree, as deeply as he knew Soldier76 who was obviously Jack Morrison, who did he think he was fooling anyway. “Aren’t you dead?”

“That Captain Amari you knew… has indeed passed away. But I still know you, Genji, and you know me, don’t you?”

“How? All of this time?” His mind spun, trying to process this revelation.

“I will explain, Jack apparently did nothing of the sort. But you two, where are you going? Won’t you stay and help this old woman find some rest?”

#shimadacest #hot milky #My fic

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