#She's laying in wait. hungered for her prey. She more senses than sees it when they realize who she is bc someone approaches and asks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

78 notes · View notes

moonchildsaurora · 3 years

Text

When Monsters come out to Play

✤ Trickster!Hongjoong + reader (feat. Wooyoung) ✤ genre: Dead by Daylight AU // horror, angst (not really tho), survival mode ✤ t/w: sfw, rated M, contains: swearing/depictions of violence + blood/unhinged minds/death scene/mentions of weapons ✤ count: 1.9k+

a/n - have y’all seen Trickster from the dbd game? I would betray everyone in game for that man. So this piece is heavily inspired by that character & his lore, my mind is still reeling that the creators really did THAT. A few tweaks from the canonverse but hope you guys enjoy this wild ride! 💙

✛ play these vibes: Sub Urban - ‘Cirque’, P!ATD - ‘Emperor's New Clothes‘, Gi-DLE - ‘Oh my god’ ✛

Neon lights streaked across his face and dark ash hair, illuminating the silver that hung around his neck. Sharp kohl-lined eyes fixed on the two other figures dancing heartily around the karaoke booth, singing at the top of their lungs. Although one could argue that their borderline screams could be passable as so.

However, it was music to his ears and a hunger woke from its deep slumber. This feeling that was on the crisp of being foreign to him because he has not yearned for something this badly for quite some time now.

“I need it.”

The shrill cadence of the laughter from the figure who nearly tripped over his own feet, in a harmonious duet with the other’s. A soprano-like noise escaped your mouth when you fell from grace unto the lap of your newly-acquired friend who narrowly moved his wild berries cider out of harm’s way.

“I want it.”

You missed the rapacious glint in his eyes as you shouted at the other howling male, who was now in a heap on the couch and microphone dangling from his hand. You turned to apologise, with a peck on his cheek, to your angel of music. As you had so kindly dubbed him upon your first meeting. Peals of laughter fell from your lips when his onyx-dipped nails squeezed your sensitive sides. He was buzzing, not just from his drink but the sudden inspiration to create once more.

The spotlight has returned and centre stage beckons him home.

Yes, he wanted it.

“All of it.”

“C’mon! This way,” Wooyoung heaved sharply, tugging you with haste round the corner.

His grip on your hand, though sweaty, was desperately firm. Survival instincts had kicked in for the both of you, forcing adrenaline to fuel your exhausted bodies to run.

Agonised screams plagued the foggy darkness around your surroundings. Another fallen prey in this twisted game of cat-and-mouse you were forced to participate in. You didn’t know exactly how many others were stuck in the abandoned industrial site either. One minute Wooyoung and you were having a late night study at the local library, before the lights cut and so did your consciousness.

A manic laugh that echoed through the grounds and jerk of your arm wrenched you from your hazy thoughts.

Wooyoung held you close to him, signalling for you to stay hushed. He peered around the metal storage container to see if the coast was clear, not that the fog allowed anything to be visible more than beyond a few feet ahead. So he had to rely on sound and visual tracking of any sudden movements.

The dead silence was unnerving.

You had barely stepped out around your hiding spot once you’ve both deemed it safe when Wooyoung hissed in panic, “Watch out!”

You were dragged to the hard ground, scraping your palms on the gravel before what felt like a bee zipping past the crown of your head. The metallic thud caught your attention enough to swerve to look behind you. Where your head had been just a few seconds ago, now had a neon blade embedded right through the steel panel.

“Fuck! He’s coming, we need to go. NOW!”

The manic laughter seemed to be echoing all over your surroundings now, and not being able to pinpoint the direction whilst having to run blindly in the dark probably wasn’t the ideal plan for your survival.

Your breath hitched when Wooyoung’s hand suddenly slipped out from yours.

“Wooyoung!” you cried out for him.

“RUN!”

A forceful shove pushed you away from the initial direction you were heading towards, causing you to be thrown off balance and stumble onto the damp ground. The sounds of more cussing and a scuffle could be heard. You scrambled backwards, away from the source.

Scarce beams of moonlight filtered through the holes in the roof provided limited light to help you navigate your way around, using your sense of touch to avoid running into objects. Your mind screamed for you to turn back for Wooyoung yet the logical side of you knew he’d be mad at you for not using the window of opportunity he so freely gave to escape.

“He knows how to fight, he can handle himself.”

False comfort was the only thing you could offer yourself then. Skidding round a corner, you almost bowled someone over had they not latched onto your shoulders first.

“Please! You have to help me!”

The young woman was hysterical and dug her nails into your skin as she had her iron grip on you. Seeing her up close you were quick to notice both her arms and clothes were stained dark crimson, whether or not that was her own – you couldn’t tell.

“He’s going to kill me! He’s going to KILL ME!”

You winced as her voice became progressively louder. That fool was going to give your location away at this rate. You tried to wriggle your way out of her hold, which proved to be a wrong move, for she threw herself against you and shook you silly.

“Get me out! I didn’t do anything wrong. Why is he doing this?!” The tears that cascaded down her grimy face mixed in with the blood and left trails of red.

She sure was getting on your nerves.

“Shut it! You’re goin-“

“There you are my little mouse.”

The both of you froze. Like deer in headlights upon hearing that sickly silky voice purr out from the shadows. The young woman immediately drew back and hid behind you, as if you were a pillar of defence against this predator. Her hands that still clutched onto the back of your top trembled so intensely, you wouldn’t be surprised if the seams were to split open.

Hongjoong took his sweet time stepping towards you. Twirling those neon blades deftly around his fingers, metal glinting dangerously whenever it caught the moonlight. The scattered beams acted as spotlights and this was his stage to run. You’d thought a paint job had gone wrong for the mess of reds, both fresh and dried, marking him from his obnoxiously bright coat to his bare toned torso to the heels of his boots.

“Aren’t you having fun?” giggled Hongjoong, making a gesture to his foggy domain by spreading his arms wide out.

“What do you want from us?! You monster!”

Her cries added fuel to the already burning flames, ironically extinguishing out the last of your patience.

“Call me something I don’t already know darling.”

The tip of his tongue darted out to lick the blood smear at the corner of his mouth.

That playful grin that had grown to be your favourite on him now looked so sinister. Hongjoong pointed one of the blades directly at you, “It’s time for you to join your little friend, I’m sure he’s already dying to reunite with you.”

“Don’t leave! Please don’t leave me!” the woman buried her face in your back. You didn’t reply to the woman but reached behind to firmly grasp her wrists. She mistook this for reassurance and to your relief, dropped her hands from your back.

Oh, how easy was it to lay the bait.

“What did you do to Wooyoung?”

Hongjoong might’ve expected you to be angry or even hurt, considering you three grew to be somewhat friends over time. Wooyoung and you had taken him under your wings when he was new to the town, and this was how he repaid you? Instead, you held his gaze and your voice didn’t waver when the question came out. If he was surprised he did not show it.

“I wanted a sample, of his music. It didn’t hurt…much…to get it!”

And the crazed twinkle reappeared in his foreign golden orbs, replacing the gentler brown eyes you were used to.

“And I want one from you too! In fact, both you and Wooyoung will be the main features of my next musical composition. I always save the best for the last, but…”

Hongjoong unfolded a fan of blades and drew his arm back into a pre-throw stance, “I’m just a tad impatient tonight and you’ve made me wait long enough angel.”

You found yourself facing down several blades making a beeline for you. To hell with the theatrics if Hongjoong thought he had waited long enough. You had done yours far longer, for the pure satisfaction of being able to rip the limelight away from one who thrives in it – in the perfect moment.

Within the few milliseconds you had left, you harshly yanked what you still had within your grasp to the front.

The applause died down and silence consumed the area.

Hongjoong tilted his head with curiosity and eyes widened by a miniscule at the scene before him. A choked gurgle. The blades had all found their marks on a new target and the corners of your lips curled up as you felt the life drained from the woman’s body before it went limp. Finally, the pest ceased to exist.

“Oh Hongjoong…”

There was a vicious edge to the tone of your voice now, and you let the ragdoll of a body fall into a heap by your feet. You bent down to pluck one of the blades from her body and nonchalantly inspected it. Not really having a care that the pool of red was starting to creep towards your feet.

“…Or would you rather I address you as, Trickster?”

A flicker of surprise, or supposedly irritation, passed over his features. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and slowly dropped his arms back down. What were you exactly playing at? This was his game, not yours.

“Word’s been around. And hearing about the Trickster perked our curiosity…so of course we just had to meet you.”

The puzzle pieces were starting to click together – Hongjoong merely became an actor in this script you gave him. Having Wooyoung and you cross paths with Hongjoong was a crafted intention.

Yet, what made the seeds of anger burst under his skin more so was the climax you denied him.

Hongjoong let out low grunt when one of his knees gave way under him, effectively bringing him down. A hand roughly grabbed the back of his freshly dyed silver hair and forced his head forward.

“When in the presence of the queen, you should be bowing. It’s only courteous, no?”

The dolphin-like laugh followed wasn’t hard to recognise who it belonged to. Another flick of his wrist, Wooyoung manoeuvred Hongjoong like a marionette. Thin, almost-invisible strings gleamed under the tiniest fleck of moonlight. Hongjoong would’ve attempted to sever his ties free but at what cost? Wooyoung prided himself in giving the cleanest cut each time he got bored of his new toy.

You scoffed at the nickname Wooyoung used, with slight affection.

“Hate to burst your bubble hon, but you’re not that special,” Wooyoung continued his mocking. Stepping aside to let you crouch in front of Hongjoong, he watched on with eagerness as you tilted Hongjoong’s chin with his own neon blade you were holding from before.

“Little musician, you’re the new kid who strolled into our playground. And…”

Hongjoong’s eyes darted to look over your shoulder, at a few other figures who started to appear out of the dark. You tapped his chin to garner his attention once more. His golden eyes met your now, brilliant ruby red ones. A venomous smile stretched across your lips with your pupils forming into slits.

“…unfortunately, there isn’t enough room for another monster to play around this part of town. “

“However, should you put on another show somewhere else…” suggested the one wearing a white crow’s mask, voice deceptively child-like.

You hummed at the idea. Fingers slowly tracing the playful grin that was already growing back on Hongjoong. It’d be a waste to get rid of such a pretty face wouldn’t it?

“We’d gladly come as your audience when you take the centre stage once more.”

83 notes · View notes

hitory--chan · 3 years

Text

Day 5: Queen of the Garden

(Ranked T)

Title: In my withered roses you lay resting

Around the forest there were always legends of all kinds, about fantastic creatures and horrifying monsters beyond human imagination, about nymphs, fairies, werewolves and giant snakes that would devastate the entire town in a few minutes if they wanted to; they were just legends, stories to amaze or scare whoever would listen to them, hypnotizing the virgin ear that listened to them with their magnetism, leading their victim to demand more, driving them mad in the search to satisfy that need.

But there was one in particular, the biggest, the most fantastic, the most sublime and the most terrifying no one ever dared to tell, the one whose existence was only known to the oldest of the town who defended tooth and nail its veracity, but nevertheless only tell each other, remembering and crying the intense agony that each word conveyed.

The legend of Hinata, the queen of the garden in the heart of the forest, and Sasuke, the infamous king who without any army was able to penetrate the invulnerable barriers that protected the queen.

The king who never returned.

“My King!” One of her courtesans shouted. "Please, I beg you to reconsider!"

He ignored her, tightening the draws of his armor as the guards placed the shoulder pads and handed him his helmet, which he took.

It was still dark, the moonlight hanging over the entire sleeping kingdom as he prepared to leave.

"My lord, he turned, now listening to his first officer, Kakashi, who was speaking to him "Are you sure this is a good idea? Going into the forest alone?"

"It's not something I didn't do before, Kakashi, you should know" he replied without much interest as he grasped the reins of Onyx, the majestic black horse that had accompanied him for years.

"I understand, but it's not the same, your majesty, it never got beyond the Stone River" the man said, his voice so slow and dull as if it was something he was trained to say, but Sasuke knew him better than many as to know that there was concern hidden behind those dead tones “It is a great risk to take to find a woman that we do not even know exists”

"People are dying Kakashi, of hunger, of disease ..." He inclined his head a little towards his first officer, not enough to really see him “If that woman, that… witch exists, it will be our chance to solve all the evils that afflict us, if I find her, then I save my people”

“And if you do not find her, my lord?”

“Then we will have to take more drastic actions, actions that I don't think we're ready for right now, Kakashi”

The silence that followed told Sasuke that the man knew what he was referring to.

They had recently fought a war against a rival kingdom that wanted to take over all his lands. They attacked in the middle of the night, cowardly seeking to have the tactical advantage darkness gave them without expecting the surprise that they were ready to fight back with much more violence than would be expected of a small kingdom that barely prospered in comparison to others. Many lives were lost on both sides, but his army had kept the slightest advantage over the invaders and captured the main officers of the intruders, executing him right on the battlefield as he had ordered them to do, closing any openings to negotiation the rival might propose.

They rose above them and conquered, drove the remaining invaders from their lands and proclaimed their victory, but they had not come out without casualties, as happened in any other war.

Their crops were burned and their women desecrated. Bodies of infants who had adventured out of their hiding spots now laying among the corpses of their fathers and men who sacrificed their lives in the name of the king's sovereignty, waiting to be buried or burned while their mothers, wives, and brothers mourned their losses.

Soon after came the diseases, plagues so violent that even the best physicians in the kingdom had succumbed to permanent contact with the infected and were now lying in beds, signaling with weak voices to proceed to their charges.

The only hope was the woman who dwelt in the depths of the forest, a queen in her own right, the oracle told him, whose miraculous fingers brought life to everything she touched. A witch, servant of the devil, counterattacked the priest, who would only bring bliss before plunging them further into misery.

A queen, a witch, Sasuke didn't care, he only wanted her hands to heal his people, determined to cut them off if necessary to save the few that were left.

Then Sasuke mounted his horse and reached out his hand, taking the sword that Kakashi had prepared for him and fastening it to his waist strap, where it would remain with him throughout his journey.

"Itachi will be in charge while I'm gone" he decreed, looking at his court, who looked at him in surprise and disbelief.

“My king, my lord!” The woman spoke again “His majesty is very ill for this task, I fear that his condition is too delicate to carry the role, your highness!”

“My brother already ruled once in a worse state than the one he currently is in while waiting for me to grow up to cede the throne, he certainly can do it a bit more while I'm gone”

“But sir…!”

"In case his condition worsens ..." he interrupted, with a tone of voice as icy as the look he gave the woman "in case he´s not an act to continue, then Kakashi will make all the decisions in my absence and my brother's disability”

Several indignant murmurs were heard from the other members of the court, annoyed by the possibility of a military man would rule them, but with the same look he gave the insolent woman, he quieted them all.

"Kakashi" he called and the man walked with him towards the limits of the kingdom that served as the border of the forest, trotting slowly as his first officer followed him with great ease "I trust you to keep everyone safe, especially my brother” he said, stopping his steed and staring at the man.

"My king's orders are my perpetual la," Kakashi recited, quoting the motto of imperial strength as he brought his right hand to his heart and bowed to him.

Sasuke nodded, but before starting his horse again, he spoke for the last time.

- And Kakashi ... execute her

Kakashi bowed again and Sasuke pulled the reins of his horse to start running, going into the forest when the first rays of dawn hit the ground, and knowing his order would be carried out without hesitation.

-----------------------------------

Inside the forest the thick trees hid any trace of the sun, giving the illusion that it was still night even though Sasuke knew it must be after eight.

Still he didn't back down, mentally reciting the directions the oracle had given him to find the mysterious woman.

“Once crossed the river of stone, the road will split for you, one more dangerous the other, competing for the new prey that appears before them. Be guided by the horrendous noises that make the bones of the strongest of men tremble, by the trail of perdition from which your eyes will not be able to turn away, from the putrid stench of those who defied the sanctity of the earth who stepped on impure feet.

Along the way you will find death's favorite resting place. Do not drink or eat the natural delicacies that will be shown for you, instead you must use your senses, facing the great beast that will attack from the shadows.

If the combat is satisfactory, then the beast will show its respects by leading you to its queen, otherwise, there will be the place of your last rest"

Naturally, oracles liked to be cryptic with their words to the point of making them indecipherable, but the more than a century old woman who had served three generations of her family had put those fanfare behind her, preferring to be as clear as possible in her revelations than risk a bad future for the kingdom because of misunderstandings out of her tongue.

Upon reaching the Stone River, he took a moment to observe the waters peacefully.

That river had been named this way not only because of the rock formation that simulated a natural bridge in the center of that great pool, just covering its surface with a thin layer of water that made it extremely slippery, but also because of the rock at its bottom, arranged in the shape of spikes so sharp that even the slightest fall on them could cause fatal injuries to the unfortunate victim.

He allowed Onyx to drink some of the water before venturing across the stone bridge.

His horse, fearless just like his owner, also had some afraid. On rare occasions he’d tried to cross that path through the waters with the equine, but his partner had acquired a phobia at that particular step when, being very young, he slipped on the stone and it was almost impossible for him to get back on his feet, almost falling to the bottom of the river when with desperate movements he slid to one side before finally reaching the bank of the river and climbing, being completely exhausted on the grass, all under the frightened gaze of his owner who had remained on dry land while his horse struggled.

He remembers that, after that, he had remained with Onyx there for longer than he ever was in that place, being found by the royal guard and brought to the castle only to remain expectant all night at the possibility of having to sacrifice the animal.

Now, Onyx was a majestic and imposing stallion with more history than half his stablemates, but from time to time he would turn back into a fearful foal when they were near that place.

However, while he normally wouldn't push him any further than he considered Onyx could take, this time around he couldn't afford to be understandable to his horse or to be left without a mount for the rest of the way.

“Come on boy!” He encouraged him, shaking the reins several times and smiling as Onyx, refusing at first, approached the rock and put his front legs on it, whinnying loudly as he took small terrified steps.

Even in the slippery material, the new horseshoes he had had his horse put on were being especially helpful in preventing the equine's legs from slipping over the rock even when Onyx's steps were somewhat shaky, leading the horse to gain a little confidence with every step until he was finally on the other side.

“Well done, Onyx!” He congratulated the horse, patting and stroking his neck before pulling out an apple, which he happily accepted.

He wasted no time and continued with the journey, reaching the place where the road divided in three.

At first glance they did not seem dangerous at all, leading him to wonder if the oracle had been wrong with her interpretation or if he had deviated from the correct path himself, but the sudden sound of something sliding on the ground caught his attention and put his whole body on guard again, waiting for any sign of attack.

Instead what he received was the cawing of birds, crows, he recognized, noises of something sliding and the screeching of bats that flew directly to his face at that moment, causing Onyx to panic and stand up on his two hind legs, almost making Sasuke to fall.

When he regained his balance and Onyx was back on all fours, Sasuke looked at the central path, remembering what the oracle had said and thinking that this should be the way to go, so he made the horse move forward, despite the reluctance of the animal.

The putrid stench started only a few minutes on the road before dead animals began to appear on the road, being replaced only a few meters later by human corpses in various states of putrefaction, from skeletons to bodies that should barely have been there for a few days. , and even recognized the uniform worn by the third-rank guards in his kingdom, only stuffed with bones, each corpse wrapped by vines and other local weeds.

He was forced to breathe as little as possible when the stench became impossible to bear, coming to vomit in the section where everything was strongest, without having the opportunity to breathe until the road began to clear of so much death, showing to his sight a great stone plateau clothed with climbing vines and rosebuds.

He got off his horse and gave him another snack, tying the reins to the tree farthest from the ferns and other plants full of fruit that he knew they shouldn't eat.

Slowly and carefully he approached the great structure, gazing at it in fascination. Up close, he noticed the spines that protruded around the roses of different sizes that decorated the plateau, which, he noticed, were deceptively sharp, cutting him at the simple touch and spilling a thick drop of blood that bathed the thorn that caused his wound.

The sudden tremor in his spine appeared as the slight trembling of the earth beneath his feet, accompanied by the sound of something sliding - something that must have been big and heavy, from the way it sounded - and then deafening silence was present. .

“Onyx!” He shouted, turning around when he heard the horse whinny and stop suddenly, expecting to meet the animal where he had left it, however in its place he found another type of animal, giant and with shiny black scales, which were only cut with the three red lines of scales on the tip of its tail, raised in the air with a swaying motion.

The gigantic snake kept its eyes fixed on his, hissing and showing off his forked white tongue.

Eyes wider than they had ever been in his life, he diverted them just a little to the rest of the great reptile's body, almost growling in pain at the bulge protruding from where, he guessed, was the stomach of the immense snake, sure it was the product of his horse swallowing.

Feeling the flame of fury ignite and grow in him, he grasped the hilt of his sword in a slow motion and drew it lightly, as the serpent rose a little higher above him.

With one swift movement he pulled it out completely as the snake lunged at him, barely being fast enough to avoid its jaws, but not fast enough to dodge its tail, which slammed it against a tree and left it stamped there until he nailed the sword almost halfway.

Even his powerful armor hadn't been enough to shield him from that blow, catching his breath cut short by the pressure of the limb that had held him captive, but he had no time to think about that as he tried to get away from the great perimeter that covered the snake.

The injured tail slammed into the ground next to him, causing him to stumble from the din it caused.

The reptile's head also collided with the ground a few feet from his back and then glided at high speed towards him, using its nose to push him up when he collided with him and sent him flying into the air as the snake rose again, now with its jaws open.

But Sasuke was able to hold on to the tip of the animal's nose and avoid being swallowed as he had done with his horse by resting his feet against the bottom of the snake's mouth and giving a little jump before it closed it, being helped by the impulse that the same reptile gave him before the abrupt movement it made while trying to make him fall.

Sasuke stayed on the snake's skull and held onto its scales as best he could before stabbing his sword - which he had clung to as much as he could during the attack - into one of the animal's eyes, which let out a shrill and strange sound before, to Sasuke's immense amazement, it made a 180 ° turn and threw himself hard against the floor, taking him with and crashing him on the flat surface, a blow so violent that it caused him to lose his helmet, his mobility and his strength.

--------------------------------

Only seconds before he lost consciousness he saw the towering snake - now one-eyed - rise above him before launching itself with his jaws open just as Sasuke's eyes finally gave up.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the immense throbbing pain in his head that only got worse when he tried to open his eyes, being hit by the brightest sunlight that forced him to close them again.

Where had so much light come from?

After a while, and when he was sure he could resist it, he opened his eyes again.

It took him a long time to regain the clarity of his sight, but once everything was clear he was astonished at what he saw.

In front of him a large colorful space, green above all, stood proud in all that light. Huge trees were here and there, casting great shadows, covered with fruit in great quantity.

A few meters from him was a lake with crystal clear waters, reflecting everything that was shown from above.

It was only when a slight movement behind him caught his attention that he realized he had been leaning against something cold, and when he turned around he felt as if his entire being had left his body when he found himself face to face with the giant eye yellowish that he recognized instantly.

He backed away quickly, grunting in pain as his muscles protested at his sudden movements, but instead of stopping to ease them, he fought them and reached for his sword at her waist, surprised not to find it.

The snake stared at him for a few seconds before lazily deflecting its head toward the center of the thread that had turned its body.

—You must not fear, it will not hurt you

He turned quickly and looked around, searching for the soft voice that he had said those words.

"Onyx" he breathed out, seeing the mate he had thought he lost, now lying on the grass, asleep on the other side of the lake.

Naturally those words were not said by the animal, but by the other person next to it, who was gently stroking the mane of his horse.

Their eyes met and he forgot how to breathe, incredulous of the moons that were his pupils, beautiful, and that without a doubt were looking directly at him.

The woman stood up and he could see her completely: snowy skin, long dark hair that swayed with every step she took. Her body was covered in leaves, branches and flowers that clung to her like a second layer. The upper part of her was covered by vines up to the middle of her breasts, being enough to cover the most. The lower part was a skirt, much less rigid than the upper one as it was made entirely of green leaves in different sizes, stopping only a few inches above her knees.

A long vine rested in the center of her abdomen, joining the two pieces as one.

She was barefoot and her hair was decorated with the most elaborate flower crown he had ever seen in his life.

As he passed by the lake, he stopped, crouching in the direction of the water, taking from the ground a large leaf of a plant that he did not recognize - and which he had not realized was lying there - and wrapped it gently until it formed a bowl that she plunged into the water until filled it, rising again and resuming its way towards him, now with the makeshift pot that spilled tiny drops from its bottom.

When she finally got to him, he saw her more clearly: thin and natural pink lips, a small and upturned nose, perfectly shaped eyebrows and long eyelashes that only marveled her appearance even more, also highlighting the lack of the slightest freckle on her face.

She offered him the bowl but he did not take it at first, still fascinated and hypnotized by the beauty of the woman in front of him until she pushed it to his chest, forcing him to hold it as she took one by one his hands between her smallest and drew them to the sides of the blade, releasing it when she made sure his grip was firm.

She, with one of her index fingers, touched the surface of the water three times in different parts, and when her hand lowered three different flowers grew in the water: a lotus, a calla and a water lily, which immediately disintegrated and mixed with the liquid, giving it a color that ranged from pink to purple.

"Take it" she said, looking into his eyes "it will help you heal."

He didn't know why, but he obeyed her and took the entire tonic in one gulp, grimacing when the bitter taste of it touched his tongue and she slid down her throat.

She smirked and turned around, walking back to where Onyx was now awake, looking at them wearily.

"It's you" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, looking at her completely uncovered back as she walked away from him “The witch”.

Her walking stopped and she turned around again, looking at him now with a frown, offended.

“That's very rude!. I am not a witch" she protested "My name is Hinata Hyuga, and I am the queen of this garden" she said proudly, turning to resume her march as if her statement was enough to deny his word.

But he would not be fooled; he had witnessed for himself what she had done in the water she had given him to drink.

He looked around him and his sight fell on his sword and armor, arranged neatly on the grass near the giant serpent's tail.

Slowly and careful not to be heard he approached his things and took the sword at the same time that with difficulty he took three steps back as the snake's tail moved to hit the ground and then returned to its original position.

It took a bit of trouble, but he was able to raise his sword and hold it with both hands, directing the tip in the direction in which that woman - that witch - was, now again sitting on the grass, stroking the back of his horse, looking at him unimpressed.

"Witch, you will come with me" he demanded "Everything will be easier if you do not resist, you will get a decent treatment: you will sleep in the softest bed, you will wear the finest clothes ... otherwise, if you resist, you ... you ..." He stopped for a moment, not for lack of words, but from shortness of breath —If… if you resist… the dungeon… the smallest and dirtiest dungeon will be…

"You’re hurting them" she interrupted, and he didn't understand.

The witch looked down and he followed her eyes, stopping at the sword that was now stuck in the middle of a small group of flowers.

When had he lowered his sword?

“What did you do to me?” He growled, aware of the progressive loss of strength to which he was subjected.

"It's the medicine" said the witch, calmly "for your body to heal, it must first rest”

And as if that were a command, his body fell apart, causing him to fall to the floor on a tall grass bed that he could swear was not there a moment ago.

- Witch! ... You will pay...

Unconsciousness welcomed him.

--------------------------------------

When he woke up there was still sunlight, quite clear, so he thought that maybe he had only slept a few seconds, but the environment felt different from before and he could hear the distinctive galloping and neighing of Onyx, going here and there as his footsteps slightly covered the happy laugh of the female.

He could not move his body freely, only just his fingers, and mentally he cursed himself for having taken that concoction that this evil woman had given him, clearly using her sorcery to weaken him.

“Your body still needs rest” he could have shuddered at the sudden voice if it weren't for the fact that he was paralyzed, shortly afterwards the witch's face appeared in his visual range, tilted from above so he could see her “you´ve been very hurt by your confrontation with Munda, your injuries will take a little longer to heal”

He grunted, annoyed.

“Why have you risked your life to get here, mortal?” She asked him, now in a more serious tone.

Then and once again without really knowing why, he began to tell her about his kingdom, about the moments of wealth and prosperity before the war struck, about the deaths and the lack of food that besieged them, making their situation worse. He told her about his brother and his mysterious bedridden illness, about the sudden barrenness of his lands, and how he had preferred to make this trip alone rather than take away much-needed protection in case they tried again to invade them during his absence.

In her face there was no sorrow, annoyance or joy for their misfortunes, instead it was pure curiosity what he could see while he finished explaining the reason why he was looking for her.

"Okay, I'll go with you" she answered with conviction.

He, who had gradually regained mobility to the point where he could now sit up and the waves of heat attacked him insistently, looked at her in surprise, unable to avoid questioning her decision.

"I'll go with you" she confirmed again "However, the starting path is more dangerous than the one you traveled to get here, so you will have to make a full recovery first" She stood up and looked at him “I cannot be away for long, this place depends on me, so I will help your people and leave immediately, it is my only condition”

He watched her, almost denying immediately that he could leave that easily, but he was quick enough to bite his tongue before speaking.

"Okay, then we have a deal" he agreed.

She nodded pleased and stood up, walking away from him and up a tiny hill where she began to press with her fingers the closed buds and the withered flowers that surrounded her, opening and coming back to life with the simple touch of her.

Despite having accepted, in his mind they only danced ways of how he would interrupt her departure, it would be very foolish of him to let her go that easy, a person with her abilities, whether witch or not, was unique, one in a million , and no self-respecting kingdom would let her go that easily.

He could try to convince her by showing her everything that she obviously didn't have in her "garden", the wonders of modernity, and if that couldn't convince her, well, he had dungeons at his disposal that he could trick her into or even without them, but surely he would not lose those abilities from his hands.

Satisfied with that plan, he began to touch the back of both of his hands, searching and removing the splinters that he did not know how he has nailed himself.

Even though Hinata's tonics were helping him recover faster than he normally would, it felt like it was actually taking forever.

There, the days and nights seemed to last longer than normal, as if the clock had 36 hours instead of 24.

Each remedy that Hinata gave her were different and she healed something different, like the one she used to make his bruises disappear, which were a combination of wild flowers and citrus fruits that melted in the water as soon as she created them and released. Those bruises that would normally take a week or more to fade, she had done it in almost three days.

The problem is that she could only give him a tonic for one thing at a time, along with the first one that she had given him so his body relaxes and rests.

Now he was drinking one that she claimed would help with his internal ailments, and he guessed she was referring to the bruised bones that barely allowed her to walk or breathe. This was particularly bitter and she had to take it several times a day, which was a mini torture considering that these wounds would take even longer to heal.

He was washing his armor when he heard her scream.

“No! Go away, you can't be here!”

His skin prickled when she heard it. Had someone entered that place? An ally or an enemy? The great snake that was supposed to be the only one that could make someone else reach that place, Munda, hadn't moved from the rock it had spread on the day before, almost looking dead if it weren't for the hiss it left escape from time to time, maybe someone had found a way to enter without facing the great reptile?

“No! Get away!”

Wasting no time he dropped the piece of armor he was washing into the water and instead grabbed his sword, gripping it tightly and ran - or rather, he limped quickly - looking beyond the trees and bushes until he saw her midnight hair, covered with small flowers of various colors, and he went quickly towards her, who kept her fists clenched and her arms stiff down, slapping the floor with one foot while she kept yelling at whoever was there to leave.

But as he got closer to her, he still couldn't see anyone else; maybe it was some invisible person? It would not be unreasonable to think about that.

Finally, when he got to her side, he saw whoever caused her annoyance.

"This… creature…" she began, making an exasperated gesture with her hand at the wild boar that nonchalantly ate the blackberries from the orchard it raided "This annoying creature won't go away!" I've tried everything but it keeps coming back”

He looked at her in disbelief.

“So much fuss over a wild boar?”

“Is this the name of this demon spawn?” She asked him, looking at him intensely "Do you know him?"

"It's a wild boar, there are hundreds of them in the forest" he said more calmly, dismissing the accusation of her previous question.

“Hundreds?!” She gasped in disbelief.

"Calm down, just ... get rid of him."

“I´ve tried it! But this ... boar keeps coming back”

He let out an exasperated sigh, thinking of suggesting of making her pet snake eat the animal, but dismissed the idea as he thought the reptile was pretty useless when it don´t came to attacking and killing unsuspecting humans and their horses near the plateau of stone.

Since he first woke up he had only seen it move a few inches and change position, so another idea occurred to him.

“Can you hold it?” He asked him “with your ivy?”

She looked at him curiously and suspiciously, but instead of answering vocally, she raised a hand and made a few short movements with her fingers before clenching her fist, catching the animal that began to screech in panic.

He approached it, and with a certain movement, cut off it head.

When he heard her loud gasp he looked back and there she was, her brows furrowed, her eyes staked and both of her hands covering her mouth.

He looked back at the now dead animal, grabbed it head and raised it before asking.

“Do you know fire?”

Sasuke sat on a rock while at the same time bringing the now cooked boar meat to his mouth, biting off a large chunk and tearing it from the rest so he could eat it.

Sitting on another rock on the other side of the bonfire he had made, Hinata found herself with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed, looking at him with such intensity as if she wanted to make his head explode with just her powerful gaze.

She was upset with him, that was clear. Since he had killed the animal and cut its meat into smaller portions so he could stick them into branches and put them on the fire to cook.

The turning point, however, was when he gathered branches and leaves and started the fire that he had surrounded with rocks of different sizes as a barrier so that the fire did not spread.

Apparently, she could forgive him for killing an animal even if she was clearly against it, but lighting wood and using leaves as a burning material was where she drew the line, practically declaring enmity at the prolonged silence she had maintained.

It was funny to tell the truth, even if preparing that meat and the dressing he had bathed it with to give it a little more flavor had been torture for his sprained wrist, it was worth it if I could see her normally relaxed and smiling face distorted with annoyance and disappointment, her lower lip sticking out childishly.

Furthermore, and despite the wide variety of fruits she had been feeding him - more delicious than he had ever eaten - he had really missed the taste of meat on his palate.

“Hey!” He called her even though it wasn't necessary, since she hadn't taken her gaze from him for a second. "Try a little" he said, spreading some meat even though he was too far for her to reach.

That scandalized her.

“I will not do it!” She vigorously refused, looking quite offended by his proposal “I'm not a savage!”

"Me neither" he said, shrugging even though he wanted to burst in laughs at her expression.

“You are eating a living being”

“You eat the children of your plants, but I don't judge you for doing that”

The expression on her face finally overcame him, making him laugh.

With difficulty and care, he rose to his feet and walked around the fire, sitting next to her and extending with his good hand the piece of meat he himself had previously been eating.

"Try a little" he repeated, but she pursed her lips and turned her face away, refusing.

“No, I do not like”

"You can't say you don't like it if you haven't tried it yet" he told her, repeating the words his mother had repeated so much to the fussy eight-year-old he was.

But she kept refusing, so he took another approach they used to use with him when he was especially difficult to feed: negotiation.

"How about this" he began “If you try a little of this, I promise I won't complain and take all your strange meds even if they taste like hell itself, you don't have to like it, just try a little”

She looked at him scrutinizingly, apparently looking for some kind of dishonesty, but he just brought his injured wrist to the center of his abdomen, in a well-camouflaged dirty little manipulative move, which he knew was working when she looked at his wrist and then again to in his eyes.

“Just a little?” He nodded "And will you take the medicine without complaining?" He affirmed again.

Hinata closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting it out again in the form of a long sigh.

She opened her eyes again, now with a look of determination and nodded.

He smiled and brought the meat to her mouth.

“W-wait!” she yelled, holding his wrist.

He was really having a hard time not laugh again.

Without letting go his wrist, she barely opened her mouth and bit into some of the meat, chewing it and stopping after swallowing it.

He looked at her expectantly, watching as she frowned again and sudden tears began to fall from her eyes.

Was it really that bad?

He began to feel guilty for forcing her to do so, but he was surprised when she now took a bigger bite, taking the meat from his hand to grab it herself, saying between sobs

"It's good!" she sniffed and cried harder as she ate more of it.

________________________

That night he woke up because of the pain that attacked his healthy wrist, grunting and looking for the reason for that, and when he looked at it, he was surprised and out of breath to see how a bracelet of branches wrapped him, which would not be a problem if it was not for the fact that they seemed to come straight out of his skin.

________________________

Another few days passed and he had kept thinking a lot about his situation.

Due to his suspicions, he decided to do an experiment.

For a few days he stayed especially close to her, touching her skin with his fingertips in the most subtle way he could, leading him to offer help during the moments when she did her self-imposed tasks that were not really necessary - there was not much to entertain herself with, he supposed — and despite confusion at his sudden need to help, she agreed and directed him what to do, frustrating him when any of those tasks kept him away from her.

But at the end of the day he touched her enough without going overboard - tapping her shoulder to get her attention or patted it awkwardly as he congratulated her with a "good job" - and then he walked away from her and went to the makeshift cot she had created for him, leaving her more confused than at first.

The first night he waited awake for something to happen, for the branches to start coming out or for his skin to turn green, he wasn't entirely sure what could happen, but he waited.

And he received nothing.

He repeated the experiment several more times and nothing happened, so he thought maybe it was a side effect of the last potion she had given him to drink? It would make sense that his body is no longer producing more vegetation by changing the type of medicine she was giving him, and it would also make sense that she did not know that effect as something out of the ordinary, since her own body seemed to produce by itself the plants that dressed her.

Then he forgot the topic, classifying it as a one-time occurrence.

Until he wasn't.

That morning, when he no longer had any kind of ailment and was beginning to feel he was finally regaining his strength, he had helped Munda - who, he learned, was really peaceful when he was not protecting the entrance to that garden - to get rid of the little debris that had stuck to him after his last shedding of skin.

"Good work," Hinata said, patting him on the shoulder as best she could since he was significantly taller than her “Munda's shedding of skin is usually a disaster because it is more resistant than normal, so I always have a hard time cleaning it when it's in season” she revealed, now with her hand fixed on his shoulder “you are very good at that”

He accepted her congratulations with a small hint of pride on her chest.

They passed the day with normally, and at night, while taking a bath in the lake, a sudden pain attacked his shoulder.

When he tried to move his shoulder in circles, he couldn´t, the pain and stiffness prevented him from the slightest movement, then he brought his other hand over said shoulder to try to massage himself, but when he felt his fingers prick, He stopped.

Surprised, he looked at his shoulder and couldn't believe what he saw: it was covered in thorns right where Hinata had touched it.

The fire of anger ignited in him and spread like forest fire, was that it? Her hands? Were her hands causing his body to produce leaves and thorns as if it were a simple plant? Although, now that he thought about it, he had been a fool not to realize it before, after all, she was nothing more than a witch whose hands could grow trees and flowers out of nowhere.

He had been fooled. He had let his guard down and this witch was turning him into another plant in her garden.

Who many more had she done this to?

He looked at the surrounding trees for the hint that any of them were once a man, but he had done his job so well that there was not the slightest trace of a previous humanity in them.

Angry, he left the lake and put on his pants, not caring they were dirty and dusty from the activities he had done that day. He dressed in his armor and took the sword with him, searching for Hinata and finding her, as always, in the center of the small flower-covered hill that surrounded her.

His quick and heavy steps caught his attention, turning and smiling at him when she saw him approaching, but that expression quickly changed when he entered, stepping carelessly on the flowers that she loved so much.

"Sasuk ..!"

"In two days we will leave," he interrupted, placing the sword under her chin and applying enough pressure so the tip dug lightly into her neck, hurting her “I have already lost a lot of valuable time with your stupid games, as of today, I command”

He turned around without giving her the opportunity to speak and went to the farthest part of that garden, where he found what seemed to be the oldest tree of all, the most leafy, where he sat down and pressed his back against it, crossing his arms with his sword still in his hand, quickly creating in his mind all the logistics of what he would do next.

______________________

The desperate neighing of Onyx woke him up.

He hadn't realized when he had fallen asleep, but it seems as if the apocalypse had taken place once he closed his eyes.

He blinked, trying to clear the blurry view of him until everything was terrifyingly sharp.

In front of him, Onyx kept crying, rising on his hind legs and then dropping the front legs in heavy blows, kicking up the dust with each fall.

It was daytime, he could tell, but the whole environment was so bleak that his brain had a hard time understanding it.

He looked around him, all the space that had previously been green and colorful had turned to the darkest gray he had ever seen. The trees shed their leaves at an impressive speed, the same ones that were now on the ground, surrounding him.

He tried to take one, but the blades were so brittle they broke with the simple touch.

"Onix, take it easy" But the horse ignored him; instead, he whinnied louder as if urging him to stop and then ran, leaving him behind.

He walked carefully, looking everywhere: the bushes were dry but still held some of their fruits, of which he took one and put it in his mouth only to spit it out instantly, disgusted by the horrible taste of the previously delicious blackberry had taken. As he walked, a foul stench began to fill his nostrils, aggravating the closer he got to the lake, until he realized that was where it came from. The waters, previously clean and clear, were now as black and thick as tar.

What was happening?

It didn't take long for him to find the cause.

Still on the small hill was Hinata, motionless and with her head bowed, the flowers around her were wilted. Munda surrounded the hill, making a great circle with its whole body, as trying to be a wall of protection for her owner.

The great snake gave him a warning hiss, glaring at him, now with both of its healthy eyes, as if it was challenging him to come closer.

Even with the threat of the reptile, he did, he knew how protective he was, but he had learned that in here Munda was more like a puppy playing at being brave than the gigantic and terrifying snake really was.

Already within the circle of protection of him everything was more horrible, here the flowers were not withered, and instead they seemed burned. Hinata's body remained immobile, not even seemed to breathe, and when he surrounded her and was face to face with her, he was surprised by the horrible state that in just a few hours she had gotten.

Her skin was as gray as the rest of the earth, her previously pink lips were now dangerously close to black, almost all the flowers in her hair and crown had lost their petals and the ones that remained would fall at any moment. Her eyes were open and she kept them that way, without blinking, and the only sign that told him there was still life in her was the trail of tears that fell without stopping.

He crouched in front of her and called out, but he didn't get the slightest bit of recognition from her.

He grabbed her face and winced at the ease of movement he had from her, even if her body seemed stiffer than could be possible.

Then the dark green trail that fell from her throat to her abdomen caught his eye, and he felt as if he had been hit with the strongest metal as he remembered what he had done.

Was this his fault?

"Hinata," he called her, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes, which seemed to be empty. "Hinata, I'm sorry."

But his attempts were in vain because she did not respond or make the slightest movement that indicated she would do it at some point.

Desperation began to fill him and he didn't know what to do, stroking her face and trying to wipe the tears away, but they kept falling and instead, sliding over and around his thumbs, mocking his unsuccessful attempts to stop them.

Then, in a moment of utter despair he did something he had only thought would happen in his dreams, and kissed her.

His lips froze over the cold, chapped of hers, and all ambient sound that he had previously not actively noticed disappeared. He made no move, just stood with his lips joined, praying inside his mind for a reaction, until her lips trembled.

One sob left them, then two, until it was totally a symphony of wailing.

He hugged her and pressed her to his chest, quietly apologizing to her and preferring to hear her cry than remain in the deathly silence of moments ago.

----------------------------

Recovery was slower than he could have imagined. While it took less than one night to produce the disaster, fixing it was a matter of a long time.

She avoided talking to him and he couldn't blame her, not after all that he´d caused.

She was just getting back to her normal color and at the same time so did her garden, slowly returning to the green it was when he had arrived.

He hadn't given her a reason for his action in the first place, and he didn't think he'd do it sometime soon - never, if he could.

He just helped her silently, discovering that when he kissed her, she recovered a little more.

So he kept doing it, morning, afternoon and evening, until the pink on her cheeks appeared and the flowers in her hair began to bloom.

That, however, came at a price, and it didn't take long for him to realize that the mere touch was more powerful than that of her fingers.

It first reflected on his nails, which turned brown and their textures became like that of a tree trunk. Then on his chest, where leaves and thorns came out again.

It was a much faster process than he had thought.

"I think we can leave tomorrow" were the first words she spoke to him after days of silence, smiling shyly at him, speaking in a low voice.

He nodded as best she could, his neck stiff from the changes taking place in him.

That day his feet stuck to the ground, and pulling them off felt as if he had lost a limb.

"Sasuke" Hinata called him the next morning, worried about what she was seeing. "Since when has this been happening?"

He looked at her, but he didn't answer.

He was still lying on his grass cot, trapped by the ivy that had tightly encircled his arms, torso, and legs to keep him in place.

"Wait." The desperation in Hinata's voice was palpable, but he could barely recognize anything.

With her hands, Hinata touched the plants on top of him, but was surprised to see that instead of obeying her and disappearing, they seemed to tighten around Sasuke.

She looked at her hands without understanding what was happening and tried again, her eyes clouding over as she obtained the same result as the first time.

The tears left her eyes and the sobs soon appeared the more she tried and failed, becoming more energetic and miserable with every second more.

"Hinata," he called out, barely a hoarse whisper as he felt a new plant grow from his stomach and slide its roots through his esophagus, slowly exiting his mouth "There is no time for me…”

“Do not!" She shouted shakily" Don't say that!”

“S. Save them ... my people ...” he said, barely breathing.

"I-I will, but-but first ..." A sob interrupted her "you first..."

Sasuke wanted to deny, but he had neither the strength nor the mobility to do so.

"There ... there is ... no time for ... me" he repeated.

“Sasuke”

“Please”

Without finding the words to answer him, she just nodded.

Sasuke smiled and looked at her, grateful as a single tear slid down the side of his face as more roots came out of his mouth.

"Thank you" he said, his voice cracking, closing his eyes, "I lo ..."

But he couldn't finish his sentence, losing the last breath he had and finally letting the roots slide out of his mouth and dig into the ground beneath him.

A heartrending scream came from Hinata's mouth, the loss, for the first time in hundreds of years, completely ripping her apart.

She cried over his body, feeling a pain much worse than that of a few days ago completely invade her, feeling again how she was fainting rapidly.

But she still had one last promise to keep.

Unwilling to leave him, Hinata placed both hands on the ground and gathered all of her strength, screaming as she transferred her power beyond the forest, filling all around with the life that he had come looking for.

The earth shook and great thorny walls rose above all of her garden, joining in the center without closing completely, and leaving a small gap through which the sunlight entered.

Exhausted, she walked to where Sasuke's body lay covered in roots and she dropped down beside him, placing a hand on his chest, slowly closing her eyes and melting into him.

------------------------

From the highest tower of the Uchiha castle, the cries of the courtesans invaded the room of King Itachi, whose body was covered by a white sheet as his court surrounded him.

"You did it, my king," Kakashi whispered, watching from the window as the kingdom began to fill with the vivid green of the growing plants and the colorful buds of flowers and fruit that followed them, though his attention was really fixed on the large bud that it had formed in the farthest part of the forest.

While, at the gates of the kingdom, Onyx the steed without his king arrived.

@sasuhinamonth

#sasuhina month #sasuhinamonth2021 #day 5 #sasuhina #queen of the garden #theres a spanish vertion #but im not publishing it here #too long

31 notes · View notes

fanfic-she-wrote · 3 years

Text

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Dracula helped you out of the coffin and held you close in his arms, not wanting to ever let you go again.

"Vlad, I was so scared." You told him, pressing your face into his chest.

"Me too." He said, stroking your hair. So he was right after all. You were Maria. You had finally come back to him at last.

You still felt weak and held on to Dracula for support. Not only did you feel weak, but you felt... different. You didn't know what it was, but it was like all your senses were maxed out. It was so overwhelming. There was also this new scent that you discovered. It smelled delicious, but what was it? You wondered looking around trying to find the source.

"What did you mean that you remember everything?" Van Helsing asked, concerned for you.

You faced him, realizing just where that smell was coming from. Your eyes shined bright red, an intense hunger in them...hunger for blood. Normally you would have been repelled by such a thing, but right now you needed it more than ever. Van Helsing watched you nervously as you inched toward him.

"Y/N?" He said nervously backing away, but you did not answer. All you could think about was his blood, the taste of it on your lips. Dracula noticing your odd behavior, grabbed you by your shoulders and held you back. Why? He did not know. He had wanted to kill Van Helsing himself earlier. Perhaps he was trying to prevent you from doing something you would regret.

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but Dracula held you firmly in place. "Let me go!" You hissed at him, revealing for the first time your fresh new set of fangs. Van Helsing stared at you wide eyed. What had he done? You were no longer the sweet, brave, and kind Y/N, you were now a monster. He should never have let Dracula turn you. But then you would be dead...looking at you now, maybe it would have been better that way. He just lost it in a moment of grief.

"Calm down, darling." Dracula spoke in a soft voice, trying to soothe you. "You will feed soon, I promise."

Van Helsing glanced up at him. "What do you mean?"

"She is in a very crucial time right now. She needs to feed." Dracula urgently explained to him.

"So what will you do, go kill another innocent person?" He asked, raising his voice.

"We have no choice."

Van Helsing sighed. "Then she can have some of mine."

"That is not necessary, Doctor Van Helsing." He refused.

"Yes it is. I won't have you or her killing anyone else. I'll run into town and get my supplies. I'll be back soon." He said, buttoning up his coat, turning to leave.

"Henry, take the coach if it's still there and take him home." Dracula ordered. Henry nodded and promptly followed Van Helsing out.

A few minutes later the tapping of horseshoes against the ground could be heard as they disappeared into the night leaving you and Dracula alone. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, then looked up at him.

"Is that what it's like for you all the time?" You asked, now realizing how difficult life was for him. How tempting it was to feed on human blood. Even now with no mortals around, you desired it. Dracula simply nodded. "It's horrible...I can't believe I wanted to...to..." You winced at the thought of hurting, maybe even killing Lawrence. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close.

"Come, let's wait for them upstairs." Dracula said, guiding you from the dungeons and up the stairs. When you reached the entry hall your mouth fell open in shock. This was the first time you had seen the castle in ruins. You felt a very intense anger. How dare the townspeople do this to your home, to Dracula's home!

"What do we do Vlad?" You ask, looking around. He squeezed your shoulder and replied, "We'll find some place else. Anywhere is home as long as I have you."

As you waited for Van Helsing to return, your mind wandered. You thought about how strange fate was. In your previous life you were married to Dracula and Van Helsing was his power hungry step-brother who killed you. In this life you were Van Helsing's friend who ultimately reunited you with your lover.

"What's wrong?" Dracula asked, noticing how quiet you had become.

"I was just thinking. What happened after...after I died all those years ago?" You asked. Dracula knew this question was inevitable now.

"Well, Van Helsing fled and joined the Turks. Soon after, we went to war and I was killed during one of the battles. As I lay there dying from my wounds, the devil appeared to me. I sold my soul and in return I would have my revenge on the Van Helsings." He told you.

"That's when you became one of the living dead?" You asked. He nodded. "But Lawrence doesn't know about any of that. He told me he wanted to get rid of you because he thought you were a threat to humanity."

"He's right. I am." He admitted. "I didn't care how many lives I took. How much blood I spilled. None of them mattered as long as I didn't have you. I was just as ruthless in life as I am in death."

"And now?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't know..."

Suddenly, from out of the wreckage you heard some rustling followed by a series of painful moans. Dracula pushed you behind him ready to attack whatever it was. From beneath the debris, a man crawled out. He was covered in dirt and blood, the smell instantly flooded your nostrils. "H-help me..." The man pleaded as he slowly pulled himself across the floor. Dracula looked over at you and saw the hunger return in your eyes and how you licked your lips, desperate for just a little taste. He didn't want to admit how turned on he was by this. He smiled and stepped aside, letting you pass. He wasn't about to let you miss out on your first meal.

Your eyes were fixed on the man before you, like a predator staring down it's prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"I'll help you." You lied, your voice sounding menacing.

"Oh, thank you I-" He peered up at you and saw what you had become and let out a blood curdling scream. "Nonnnoo! Please!" He cried, cowering away, but you didn't hear him. You were focused on one thing. You grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off the ground making him eye-level with you. You hesitated for a moment. You knew you shouldnt. That this was bad, but he did try to kill you and your love after all. He deserved it. Your mouth was practically watering as the sound of his pulse pounded against your eardrums. Dracula stood behind you and whispered in your ear, "Do it." Before the man could utter another plea for mercy, you sunk your fangs deep into his neck. His blood dripped down your lips and chin as you sucked every last drop from his body. Dracula wanted you now more than ever. You moaned and threw your head back enjoying the taste of blood as it ran down your throat. Once you were finished, you tossed the corpse back into the rubble he crawled out of.

"How do you feel now?" Dracula asked, eyeing you lustfully. You grinned at him. "Much better, darling." You answered in a husky voice, running your finger under his chin. Unable to resist you a moment longer, he twirled you around and pressed you flush against him. Leaning down he licked some of the blood from your lips, then he roughly pressed his mouth on yours. He could still taste the blood as he slipped his tongue inside. It drove him mad. You couldn't help but let out a moan when he suddenly nipped your bottom lip as he pulled away. You both stared longingly into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.

You went to kiss him again, but were interupted when Henry and Van Helsing returned.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" He exclaimed noticing the fresh blood around your lips, running towards you. He looked down at the man's lifeless body, a horrified expression on his face. "You killed him..."

"What of it?" Dracula sneered.

"Don't you understand? She killed an innocent man!" He yelled.

"He wasn't so innocent when he tried to kill us." You quickly pointed out.

"Y/N, why? I thought you were better than this."

"I guess I'm not who you thought I was." You said coldly. Van Helsing felt his heart break again at how much you changed. He wanted to take you far away from here, far away from Dracula. To try to find a way to get his Y/N back. He'd rather you be dead than live out eternity like this...Van Helsing sighed. He had no other choice. He had to kill you and Dracula before it was too late.

"I guess not." He agreed. "There's nothing more I can do if this is the life you've chosen. I'm leaving for London tomorrow." Dracula eyed him suspiciously. Was he really willing to just leave you alone? To just ignore the fact that you might kill again. Did he really care for you that much?

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked, still wishing to remain friends. Even though his ancestor had murdered you in your past life you didn't hold it against Lawrence. He was different.

"No, I don't think so." He replied, looking away.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said sadly, but you understood.

"I am as well." Van Helsing said. You pulled away from Dracula and went over to your friend, pulling him into a hug. Why did you have to do that? He thought. It only made things more difficult for him. He knew the real you was still in there somewhere, but the vampire took her place leaving a shell of what you once were. You placed a quick peck on his cheek and backed away.

"Goodbye, Y/N." He said, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see you alive, knowing that when the sun came up it was up to him to end your damned existence. He turned and left without another word.

Dracula felt your distress and wrapped you in his arms in a comforting embrace. It was getting close to dawn now. He needed to find you a coffin before daylight broke. So, after he knew you were alright he left with Henry to the local cemetery to find you a coffin.

You wandered the castle ruins thinking about Lawrence. He had been your only friend in the world till now. No one else had stopped to give you a second thought, but he did. He was there for you when no one else was. At one point before you came to Transylvania, you thought you loved him, but he was too involved in his work. His work was his ultimate passion, and you knew you couldn't compete, so you never did. You sometimes wondered what it would be like if you had chosen a life with Van Helsing. Would you be a silly little domestic couple with a house and kids? It was an amusing thought, but neither of you were the type.

Finally, Dracula and Henry returned a little while later carrying a coffin. It wasnt anything fancy, but it would do. Perhaps later, you could get a better one. Sunlight started peeking in through the windows as they hurriedly carried it into the dungeons, placing your coffin beside Dracula's.

"Too bad they don't make couple's coffins." You joked.

"Maybe we could have one made." He teased, kissing your neck where he had bitten you, making you shudder. "I love you." You said softly running your fingers through his hair.

"I love you too." It was so pleasant to hear him utter those words. You wanted to hear him say it again and again.

"Sleep well, darling." You said with a yawn, as you lay down suddenly feeling tired. You took one last look at him before shutting the lid. This wasn't an ideal lifestyle, but you loved him and that's all that mattered.

The sun rose into the sky and the birds began to sing their morning song. It would have been a beautiful day if it not had been for the task that Van Helsing had set out to do. He crept back inside the castle, bag in hand, being careful not wanting to draw attention to himself. He stood in the doorway to the dungeons, contemplating his next move. His chest was heavy as the thought about driving a stake into your heart. But he had to do it. He slowly opened the door and walked inside, and down the flight of stairs to the room where Dracula's coffin had been earlier. Now he noticed, that there were two coffins lying side by side, one belonging to you.

He reached inside his bag and pulled out a hammer and a couple of stakes. Van Helsing strode over to your coffin and pulled open the lid. Inside, you lay looking peaceful and content, a small smile on your face. If only it didn't have to be this way...

He pressed the stake between your breasts and raised the hammer high into the air, ready to strike. But he couldn't. The longer he stared down into your beautiful face, the harder it became to do it. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at you...But he just couldnt. Why was this so difficult?

Suddenly, a voice shouted out behind him startling him. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Henry shouted, running at him, tackling him to the ground.

"Stop!" Lawrence yelled, shoving Henry off of him. Not listening, Henry raised his fist and slammed it into the side of Van Helsing's face, quickly tearing the stake and hammer out of his grasp.

He shook his head, feeling dazed for a moment.

"How could you do that?! I thought you wanted her alive?!" Henry asked throwing away his weapons across the room.

"I did, but after seeing what she has become I couldnt let her live like that...but I can't do it. I can't release her from this curse....It's all my fault." Van Helsing sobbed, his head throbbing. This is why he never let anyone get close to him in the first place. He had only himself to blame for this. There had to be another way and he was going to find it by any means necessary.

#not my best work #pretty satisfied with it tho #i think this might have more parts than i planned #hope you guys like it!#dracula x reader #van helsing x reader #hammer dracula #x reader #reader inserts #christopher lee

77 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 4 years

Note

any tips in writing a yandere midoriya? i’m currently writing this book — and honestly the way you write midoriya is spot on! it’s hard for me to grasp characters, especially since they’re gonna be tweaked since they’re yandere. it’s not only midoriya that’s a yandere, it’s poly, so how do you think he would go about sharing his darling as well?

How to write yandere ! Midoriya Izuku

First: let’s look at the basics, as in key personality traits.

Midoriya is seemingly two things personality wise: he is optimistic and passionate. These two things however are strictly based a certain mindset, certain emotions, emotions that are highly volatile, as in changeable. What we can take from him being optimistic and passionate, is that he is calculating, observant, diligent and tireless. These traits, as opposed to the emotional traits, lack needing to be fueled by certain emotions such as happiness, and will therefore survive no matter his emotional state, which in turn makes them his key personality traits. Viewed in other ways: these are his key personality traits because they are unshakable as opposed to his awkwardness, anxiety and self-doubt, which are also things he can overcome, (things he has overcome in my take of him). All in all, no matter his emotional state, he will always remain calculating, observant, diligent and tireless.

Now: having these traits calls for different abilities, a.i. they add up and award him with certain titles. Titles such as Hero, Genius... God.

Being a genius, where his experience as one of the most revered people in the world has led to many opportunities in dissecting and analyzing all his peers, meaning he has a great understanding of the human psyche, which in turn distances himself from them and makes him feel above them. Because, despite being superior, he is still human and still vulnerable to all human faults, and when humans are worshipped, they will think they are God, forgetting their purpose in the light of glory, forgetting that he is a Hero for the people, of the people, by the people and beginning to believe he’s above the law, (which eventually leads to him justifying kidnapping for his pleasure). He genuinely believes no other human can achieve his level of strength and smarts. And having a God complex as well as being psychopathic-smart, will lead to the bending and eventually breaking of morals, where he can excuse his depravity with it being conscious and not mindless, he can excuse it for being for the greater good, something above regular human understanding. Thinking that: because he’s aware of it being wrong, that it is somehow allowed, somehow less dangerous and justified. Completely blinded by his own sense of superiority, never once seeing just how dangerous his feelings of being above the law can become, (definitely not seeing it when eventually regarding his darling).

Secondly: we have to take a look at how Midoriya views love.

Because Midoriya is such an intelligent person who knows the natural laws and works behind love, knowing how it’s simply a chemical reaction made to make animals breed with nothing supernatural or mystical or heavenly about it, he’ll naturally have a very unromantic and practical approach to finding a partner. He’ll want to resist falling prey to dependence.

But, even he cannot fight the vicious bite of loneliness. Finding a perfect someone after so many years of resisting and ignoring and denying those primal urges obviously gets to him in the end, where finding his darling feels almost like godsend. Which was exactly what he was trying to avoid falling prey to, where he was aiming to rise above regular human needs, regular human beliefs regarding love: a concept he had no faith in, a concept he didn't want to have any faith in, but fell for anyway.

However, while beholding his darling as something precious, his own God complex gets in the way of viewing her as his equal, where she’ll often feel as though he doesn’t even view her as human, more like a pet or even a plant, not something to communicate with, but something that should sit still and look pretty, something to maintain and admire, not intelligent like him.

But, there are different types of smarts in the world. Whereas Izuku has practical, social and analytical intelligence, he’s more or less let go or forgotten about true emotional intelligence. Which is something that will surprise him about his darling, or something that will surprise him about himself, how much he enjoys her presence, her humanity, her basic straightforward moralistic compassion, her need for contact, things he’s long ago forgotten, things he’s only now realizing that he’s missed dearly. At first he believes he’s simply entertained by her, but then he realizes he quite admires her, envies her even, because she’s innocent enough to feel things that he no longer can.

Thirdly: we have his yandere characteristics: sadistic, obsessive, possessive.

-Sadism (groundwork)

It is simply my belief that all yanderes have an inch of sadism dwelling inside them, because I find it hard to digest that any other human without such desires would enjoy controlling another human being. However, the amount of sadism inside may vary drastically.

Midoriya’s sadistic tendencies lies dormant, yet can come out at any given moment, making him rather radical, as in unstable or unpredictable. Though, not like an animal is unpredictable, as he will never act without finesse, he will never act without having complete control over the situation, including himself. We have to remember that Izuku takes great pleasure in knowing how he can rise above impulses. His sadism is more like a hunger that arises every now and again, where which Izuku realizes he is hungry, followed by Izuku luring and trapping his food then playing with his food and finally eating his food. Executed with finesse.

-Obsessive (one side of the coin)

Obsessiveness in general: is not just about laying worship, not just about adoring someone so much that it hurts, it’s about needing someone, needing someone so much that it outweighs and overcomes all obstacles that stand in his way to achieve having them

Obsessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly delusional, where which it tells him that him and his darling belongs together, where he’s optimistic that time will eventually gift him with her love in return. This is his softer side, his more lenient side, his understanding side, his tolerant side. And despite it being slightly delusional, this is actually his more logical side as well, where he’ll bare patient understanding that it’ll take time for her to reform herself, where he takes her emotional status into mind.

-Possessive (the other side of the coin)

Possessiveness in general: is not only about ownership, not only about restrictions, it’s about fear, it’s about reassurance, it’s about finding security in knowing that he and only he will ever have the liberty of having his darling, where he finds an inane amount of uneasiness in thinking she wasn’t always his, needing to find a way to make him forget that disgusting thought by having her belong to him in every single possible way.

Possessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly denialistic and protective, where it tells him that she belongs to him, no exceptions, no room to misunderstand, where what she feels doesn’t really matter because he loves her, he’s chosen her, and she’s simply not allowed to love anybody else, where any refusal will be corrected, will be proven futile.

Fourthly: what is Midoriya’s attitude towards his darling:

Here we add up everything we’ve just considered!

His intelligence calls for a type of deserved arrogance, a vain imagery of himself, making him a narcissist, which again makes him prone to dumbification when approaching his darling, manipulative suggestive language constantly making her feel like her rightful place is beneath him. This can be done in many ways, more so than degrading verbal comments. In visual effects: he can dress her up in innocent clothing just oozing with childlike naivety, braid her hair, decorate her with pastel bows all making her look like a sweet harmless little thing, but more importantly making her feel like a sweet harmless little thing. He can also act out degradation: through head-pats, carrying her places, bathing her. One can even take it so far as infantilization.

Obviously, the creation of rules and laws will build, also the product of his degrading nature, where the list of things his darling can and can't do or should or must do will grow longer over time as he finds that he quite enjoys having this type of control. I believe Izuku is quite lenient but has a breaking point. He won’t enjoy punishing his darling for every single little indiscretion she dares make, believing that this is both time consuming and a waste. His method is to wait until his darling has made a certain amount of faults, her mistakes topping each other like building blocks until the tower eventually tumbles, where which he will deliver a rather large punishment meant to correct her attitude once and for all, or at least until the tower topples again.

He’ll constantly be making a case of how much smarter and stronger he is than her, not in an aggressive way, but in a demeaning, patronizing way, often accompanied by him smiling a chiding smile that looks sweet yet when accompanied by his threatening eyes just look like teeth. Exercising dominance will become like a drug to him, where I’d say he’ll develop both a daddy-kink and a size-kink. His daddy-kink calling for patronizing behavior, teaching her manners and posture and punishing her when she refrains from doing what daddy tells her. And, his size-kink evokes the love to measure everything of his up against everything of hers, often comparing her soft petite precious hands to his deadly scarred ones, how she has no chance of pushing him away whereas he’ll have no problems in crushing her skull if he so wished.

Then of course, his feelings of entitlement call for him taking giant liberties when he’s craving she give him something she’d rather keep to herself. These entitlement feelings coming to fruition through his status as the world number one hero, his morals disappearing in those seconds he manages to twist his view of his darling as her own person into seeing her as his reward, as the world’s way of saying thank you, made simply to please him and having no purpose outside of him.

But, his idealization of his darling encourages him to pamper her, or at least in a way that he views as pampering. He’ll often ask her if there’s anything that she may want, either it be a wish for activity such as art supplies or reading material, or accessories such as jewelry, lingerie, cute little dresses. And when she never asks for anything he wants her to ask for, when her response is always a demand that he let her go, he’ll give her something anyway, something she’ll cry so preciously for to make him stop.

Obviously, I have expanded my view of him here, but I believe the key attitude he’ll carry towards his darling is simply being sweetly degrading, demeaning and patronizing.

Fifthly: how would he go about sharing?

In order for him to feel comfortable enough to share his darling with someone, they have to be someone he respects, someone he can almost look at as an equal or someone he looks up to and idolizes.

In other words: Midoriya will have to love his yandere partner in some form or way to share his beloved darling with them, either it be through mentioned respect, or through loyalty, where platonic or fluid friendship could also be a possibility.

Here are some examples I see being possible poly relationships:

MIDORIYA - ALL MIGHT - relationship based on idolization MIDORIYA - BAKUGO - relationship based on equality/respect MIDORIYA - SHINSO - relationship based on admiration/respect MIDORIYA - “FAN or FREIND” - relationship based on loyalty/trust MIDORIYA - URUAKA/TENYA - relationship based on friendship

I don't see sharing being much of a problem, unless the darling picks favorites. But, because Midoriya is likely much softer than the other yandere, I’m presuming, the favorite will probably be him and not his partner. In that case, he might really like having a parter to compete with! He’ll enjoy how she’ll resort to pleading with and appealing to his soft nature as opposed to the other yandere. He’ll probably love that sort of attention.

I also think Midoriya will like cornering his darling with the help of his partner, trapping her together. I can definitely see him love playing good cop/bad cop. Perhaps even sharing the daddy-kink. Dynamics like Daddy/Master/”DARLING” or Sir/Boss/”DARLING”.

Also, I think he’ll love gossiping about their darling with each other behind her back, talking about how cute she is when she does this or that, how lovely she looks in that specific dress, how well-behaved she’s gotten, and all sorts of stuff, kind of like parents talking about their child.

#yandere midoriya #yandere mha #yandere midoriya izuku #yandere my hero academia #yandere deku #yandere izuku #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #midoriya #midoriya headcanons #midoriya izuku #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku

297 notes · View notes

kmikaelsonimagines · 3 years

Text

Mad Woman: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: Oh, could you please do Mad Woman or Exile? Just which ever one you prefer - I absolutely love both of them <3

Decided on Mad Woman, so Exile is still up for requests! Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Mad Woman

What did you think I'd say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will You know I will

Kol was in awe of the words that came out of Y/N’s mouth. She was playing, her teasing tone sliding out of her lips and sinking into his bones. He ignored the shiver that made it way up his back, ignored how it felt so much like her fingers trailing up his spine when they’d laid in bed that morning.

He could have stayed there all day, his body on hers, his lips everywhere he could reach. But the paleness of her skin had told him that she needed to feed, and he couldn’t deny the hunger that was brewing in his own stomach.

It had been her idea to go after the man that had looked at her like she would be his next conquest, her hand hitting Kol’s chest as she stopped him from going over there and ripping the man’s throat out himself.

“Why don’t we have some fun with him instead?” The scrape of her teeth against his earlobe had been enough for him to agree. The sooner they fed, the sooner Kol would have Y/N back in his bed.

But he would let her enjoy herself first, let her play, let her make the final sting before she struck to kill. She was so different from the person she was when he first met her, and he loved every deadly inch of her.

What do you sing on your drive home? Do you see my face in the neighbor's lawn? Does she smile? Or does she mouth, "Fuck you forever"?

The woman Kol had met at the club had taken to swearing at him. Calling him up and when he didn’t answer, yelling a massive “Fuck you” down the answer machine. He would have to change his number, either that, or kill her.

Killing her sounded like the better option, changing his number too much effort. As he drove, on the way to her house, he sighed. It was getting tiring, sleeping with these women and then having them pine after him. He always thought he had made what he wanted clear, sex and then nothing else.

Apparently not.

He parked up, a few streets away from her house, so she wouldn’t see him coming. The element of surprise was always one of his favourite moments of the kill, and he hummed the song that was playing on the radio as he walked down the street. He didn’t realised just how loudly until-

“You’ve got good taste.” A voice, a perfect, beautiful, musical voice that belonged to the most stunning woman he had ever seen. She sat on a bench on her lawn, a book on her hand, and blushed as she realised she had spoken aloud. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. You’re right, I have got good taste.” He couldn’t help smiling when she did. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry

“You’re insane, both of you,” the man spat. He turned to face Kol. “Enjoy her,” he nodded to Y/N, “The crazy bitch.”

Kol rolled his eyes, an expression of amusement settling over his face. Inside he was raging, a fire that he would let burn when Y/N was ready for him to do so, when she had her teeth embedded in the man’s throat, letting the blood coat her hands. He would rip the man limb from limb as punishment for insulting her, even in death. But not now, not when Y/N still needed him to play the game. “Did you hear that, darling?” He pointed between Y/N and her victim. “Did you hear what he called you?”

“Every word.” Kol smiled at her words, at her movements as she stepped closer to her prey. She was an animal in every sense of the word, predatory fury in her eyes. She had a wildness about her that thrilled Kol to his very core, her anger nothing more than an encouragement. “I think I’ll show him he’s right.”

The man didn’t have time to answer before Y/N leapt on him, teeth tearing through skin. Kol let her have her fill, always putting the woman he loved first, happy to take seconds.

She was so different from the vampire she was when he first turned her, and he loved every deadly inch of her.

And there's nothing like a mad woman What a shame she went mad No one likes a mad woman

“Are you sure about this?” Kol watched as Y/N eyed the man he had compelled. There was a fear in his eyes that Kol found delectable, perfect for Y/N’s first real kill. Until that moment, he had brought her blood already drained and she had accepted it, greedily. There was a glint in her eye that Kol knew had the potential to blossom into something far more dangerous, and so he had brought her out on a hunt with him.

He was surprised when she seemed hesitant. For a split second, Kol thought this was a bad idea, better to keep Y/N as the quiet one, the girl he had first fallen in love with. But, a quick look at her lips, at her tongue sliding along her bottom one, had him believing in his actions.

She had always been holding back her true self, and he knew it wouldn’t be a shame if she let that Y/N out once in a while, knew that he would love that version of her just as equally.

“Just bite him, Y/N.” Kol watched on, a smile on his face as Y/N finally gave in, as her teeth sunk through flesh, threatening to scrape against bone. When he saw her eyes again, saw the primal madness that lay within them, he knew he had unleashed something.

Knew that a beautiful monster would now lie in his bed.

You made her like that And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out And you find something to wrap your noose around And there's nothing like a mad woman

Kol looked over at the woman sleeping next to him, her arm slung over his chest, her spine exposed to him. He had been placing kisses down that sliver of bone only a few moments ago, bruising in the knowledge that she would heal.

Y/N had given as good as she got, the thrill of their latest kill still thrumming through her blood, spurring her on as she competed with Kol for dominance among the sheets. He slid his thumb over his lip, remembering how she had bitten it as she kissed him, hungry for him, fingers that were more like claws scraping down his back.

Everyone told him that he was the one to turn her into the demonic woman that people believed her to be, the reputation that she was more than happy to play on when she felt like it. They were wrong. The mad woman was already there, had been waiting for Y/N to let her out.

But then there were times like this, times when she slept beside him, not wanting to let him go, only wanting to love him like he did her. Times when she was the Y/N he had first fallen in love with all those years ago, the Y/N who kissed him good morning and told him that he was her world, who tangled her fingers in his and promised to stay with him for the rest of his life.

There was only one thing Kol Mikaelson was certain of, and that there was no-one like Y/N Y/L/N.

Nor would there ever be.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

#TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the vampire diaries #to #the originals #the originals imagines #the originals imagine #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagines #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #nate buzolic #nate buzz #Nathaniel Buzolic

90 notes · View notes

remmushound · 3 years

Text

Mud Dogz Rising, chapter 1: Leonard

@scentedcandlecryptid

Content warning: Death, meat, blood, violence, child violence

The day started off as any other day. First came the lights, blindingly bright and enough to wake any creature no matter how deep in slumber. Then came the echo of the daily ration crashing down the metal chutes and into each cell in equal portions. In one of the chambers slept a groggy ogre who, upon the lights turning on, curled her lips into a low growl and tried to block out the worst of the brightness. From the warmth of her bosom another far smaller ogre had a similar reaction, whining and pressing himself tighter into the warmth of his mothers body. The resistance wasn’t kept for very long, however, before the tiny ogre cub raised his nose to the air to breathe in the delicious smell of meat.

From the safety of his mother, Leonard crawled over to the pile of meat slopped carelessly on the ground, a small puddle of blood pooling around the raw flesh; to the young ogre, it was like pure honey nectar. He brought his muzzle to snuffle at the puddle before lapping at it. The warmth of the meal made him eager to eat more of it— maybe a little too eager, as he fell face-first into the pile and sank deep into it. In alarm he squeaked his panic, which made his mother finally open her eyes to see what was bothering her son, and then she rolled her eyes at his predicament.

She took her sweet time waking up, stretching and popping all the sore joints in her body on her way over. She scooped up her son around his belly and pulled him out with an effortless tug, rumbling at the sight of the cub more red than green. She sat on the floor with him on her lap and began to rasp a long, spined tongue across his face and bowl-cut hair.

“Leonard, you have to be more careful.” His mother gave a sharp nip to his ear.

Leonard wiggled himself free so he could climb up to his mother’s broad shoulder and tug at her ear with all the ferocity of a lion cub; his mother ignored the attempts at savagery as she started to dig into the daily offerings. Eventually Leonard fell off of his mother and tumbled to the cold stone with a grunt, splooting for a moment before shaking his head and finding his footing. A drifting feather caught his attention and he fell to all fours to follow it in a clumsy stalk, jumping up to bat at the stimulation and catch it in two tiny hands. He fell to happily chewing on the feather, tiny fangs clacking as he worked to devour his caught prey. It didn't taste very good, so he tried to spit it out; it stuck to his tongue like glue no matter how he gagged.

His struggle eventually led him to flopping down to sit, his hands propping him up as he faced the enclosure beside his— the cage that the feather had come from. The nice yokai in the other cell was still sleeping, which confused Leonard because, if the nice yokai was still sleeping then how could they have given him a feather? They had done it before, but they were always awake when they did! The cub frowned and crawled over slowly on all fours, sticking his nose between the bars so he was just close enough for the feathers of the Yokai to tickle his nose. They smelled weird…

He felt a powerful hand come carefully to cup his back and looked up to see his mother standing over him, her tongue swiping over her lips to catch falling juices while her eyes held a gentle softness in them. She knew that scent, that dark, rotting stink of death, but Leonard didn't, and he didn't understand why his friend was still asleep when it was wake-up time.

“Come on Lenny. Come eat while it’s still warm.” She left him after that to return to the meat pile.

Leonard lingered, his eyes still locked on his feather friend. Then he felt a sharp pull on his neck that made him cry out in genuine pain, cold metal digging into his throat and tugging him off of his feet. He was yanked out of the cell faster than his mother could clear the distance to get to him, the door closed before she reached him and causing her to slam head-first into the metal. Leonard didn't know what was happening; all he knew was that he was forced into a tiny cage where he could barely move around, and he was being pulled away from his mother as she called out for him, but the one that had snatched him didn't care about her cries or his. Leonard screamed. He screamed and cried and wailed until his voice was nothing more than a horse whisper and his body didn't let him cry anymore. He was hungry now, with no milk and no meat, and to make matters worse the Taker had tossed a sheet over his cage so he couldn’t see a thing!

Leonard didn't know how long he was in that cage too small to move around in, but it was enough time to make his stomach hurt without a meal to fill it. To pass the time and try to lessen the hunger, he eventually went to sleep, only to wake when the cage was lifted and started to move with a terrifying loud trembling as he was wheeled across tile. Then he was lifted again and taken into someplace loud, very loud, and so bright that even the sheet did little to stop the light. It smelled bad here too, just like his nice friend had smelled.

The sheet was ripped from the cage to let brightness flood in with a roar of applause. Leonard didn't know what applase was, but it was loud and it was all around him and there was nowhere to go but in circles. A gloved hand grabbed him around the scruff of his neck and some part of him made him so limp because the only one who would have been carrying him like that was his mother, but this didn't smell like his mother! And the touch wasn’t gentle like his mother either.

A heavy collar was strapped around his neck, enough weight to make him collapse to the ground unable to move from the pressure. Beyond the bright spotlights he could see nothing; nothing but cheering silhouettes surrounding him on high-raised seats. On the opposite side of this large, dusty place where he was chained, he saw a door open, and through that door a massive silhouette slowly lumbering out into the space. An ogre? Leonardo strained his senses to be able to smell anything beyond the sand burning his nose. This ogre wasn’t his mother; it was a male, like him, only bigger. A lot bigger.

“Yokai of all kinds!” The woman’s voice seemed to be all around him, incredibly jovial and bubbly, “The games shall begin shortly. First in the ring is the lovely Dre The Destroyer! And that lovely little cub you see there belongs to Fearsome Felis, who will be joining us shortly. I know you have your choice of arenas, so I thank you for choosing the Battle Nexus!”

The big, lumbering ogre was nearly upon him now and Leonard could see him more clearly now; dark olive skin decorated with scars, powerful tusks jutting from his mouth and a ridging horn across his shaven head with several peaks. Leonard gulped at the pure size of him, and the rottenness of his hot breath as the ogre bull brought his face down even to Leonard’s, lips curled in a grin. Leonard covered his head with his hands and started to quiver.

“M...mama! Mama…”

There was a roar, and a collision Leonard didn't witness. When he opened his eyes he saw another ogre in the ring, an ogre very familiar to him! His mother was smaller than the other ogre, but that small fact didn't stop her from engaging in the battle tooth and nail with everything she had. Tusks slamming together, claws ripping at each others flesh, bodies pounding into each other!

While the savage sounds of the fight raged on, that sickly sweet voice just kept going, “Now, Fearsome Felis will be well-known to some of our more frequent fliers, but to all those new to the games, she is one of our prized ogre and has been in the ring her whole life! Today just so happens to mark her five hundredth round in the arena and, should luck be on her side, this will be the three hundred and eighteenth win of her career! We find that our fighters fight hardest when certain… motivation is put in place. The instinct to protect the offspring makes her fight thrice as hard!”

Leonard didn't like it. He didn't like the fighting and the growling and the roars and the blood— the yells of his mother as she was hurt and the rebuking injuries she inflicted. He didn't know how long the battle went on, but eventually his mother had come out the victor, the male laying defeated and bleeding in the dust, and she made her way back to her son while the crowd roared her name.

“It appears that our lovely Felis is the winner! Remember folks, this is only the first of several rounds we’ll be featuring tonight, so please take the time during this brief interval to indulge in the many confectionery stands scattered about the grounds. We will resume the games in ten minutes.”

“Mama…” Leonard whined, grabbing desperately at the air when his mother got close. She was staring down at him with eyes that seemed almost cold, and they made Leonard even more scared. “Mama…?”

Felis snarled at the cub, and she lunged at him with no mercy in her eyes. Her jaws latched around Leonard’s neck in a crushing pressure. Those still in their seats gave loud gasps and some of them even screamed, and pretty soon all of them were screaming but Felis didn't care. She crushed the cub's body between her teeth until he went limp, and then she ever so casually carried him to the center of the arena and dropped him on top of the first body.

Licking blood from her muzzle, she looked around at the stunned crowd and said, “There. You can’t use him against me anymore.”

~~~

All casualties of the Battle Nexus Arena ended up in the same spot; the barge just outside the colosseum, where aquatic yokai thrived and would make quick work of the bodies once they were dumped. When closing came and it was time to dispose of the day's destruction, a swarm was waiting at the chute for the fresh kill. The bodies were dumped, and the yokai all fought over the rights to the best pickings of the day.

One small, brave mermaid took a tentative taste of an ogre cub by nipping his ear and ripping a small part of it off. With the pain of the injury, the cub’s eyes shot open and he tried to give a pained yowl, but all that resulted were bubbles that made the skittish swarm scatter. The ogre looked all around and then, propelled by instinct, kicked up toward the surface.

When he felt cold air on his face the first thing he did was breathe to sooth his burning lungs. Then he went back under, but not of his own free will. On the small glance he got of the world above he had seen a shore and so that was where he struggled to. Eventually, his feet met soft earth and he was able to crawl out of the water completely and collapse on the muddy shore.

#Leonard’s story #mud dogs #mud dogz #rottmnt mud dogs

17 notes · View notes

queenofspades6 · 4 years

Text

More than partners-(The Mandalorian x reader)

Jealousy

Part 8 of More than Partners

Summary: A man flirts with you and the Mandalorian is extremely jealous

Warnings: Jealous Mando. Protective Mando. Mentions of violence and blood. Sexual tension.

A/N: It’s one of my favorite chapter so far! I hope you will all enjoy it! I think I will write two/three more chapters before the end of the fic! Tell me if you have some ideas you want to see in the next chapter and if you want to be tagged! (I want to write some x readers with Finnick Odair from Hunger Games but I don’t know if people will read it since it came out a long time ago! Dm me if you want me to write it, I am still hesitating!)

———

———

***

It had been a week since you and Mando had a little fun in the cockpit. You could tell something had changed between the two of you that day. There was always something unspoken between your secret glances. Since that day, you had wanted the Mandalorian more than anything else. It wasn’t all about sex, because you loved Mando, and you wanted him to feel the same way.

But could a Mandalorian love a Jedi? Could you make him forget his past and focus on the future? A future that could involve a family? A clan of three?

Mando didn’t say a word about your little moment with him the other day, as if it didn’t even happen. Yet, sometimes when you entered a room, you could already feel his protective gaze on you, as if he had been watching you the whole time. Something in him had changed. When he saw you, he felt a fire burning dangerously in his body. It was as if his body was warning him about the consequences of what he was about to do. What should he do? Follow his heart or his Creed? And why was it so difficult? He had lost his family and now he had the chance to start a new one, however he couldn’t help himself but wonder if he could let go of what he had become. Was he ready for a new beginning?

He didn’t know until that day in the tavern.

You and the Mandalorian had agreed to chase a quarry together to gather food for the Child. It was an easy task since the quarry was sitting in the tavern, laughing foolishly, a huge glass full of a viscous beverage. Mando believed it was only a matter of time to catch that bounty. He had to wait the perfect moment and catch him, and you would sit at the bar, not intervening if it wasn’t necessary. It seemed easy enough for the best in the Parsec, but what he didn’t see coming was someone flirting with you. A man had taken place next to you, offering you a drink, a flirty gaze on his face. You smiled politely, accepting the drink instead of making a fuss. Mando hated him already.

The man began to talk to you while caressing your arm in a gentle manner. It was harmless, but you didn’t like the look on the man’s face, as if he had set his eyes on his next prey. You knew you had to win time and wait until the Mandalorian catch the bounty, so you took it upon yourself to pretend as if everything was fine. And if the man tried something, you could slice him in two with your lightsaber, right?You reassured yourself. What you didn’t know was that Mando had his eyes glued on you and the man, watching his every move carefully.

His fists clenched tightly, the Mandalorian was trying to remain calm. It was getting more and more difficult as the man began tracing an invisible line on your thigh, his hand slowly traveling higher. You startled, feeling the man’s hand on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your womanhood.

The bounty forgotten, Mando stood up instantly and rushed towards the man. He caught the hand still resting on your inner thigh and tightened his grip with all his strength, hoping it would bruise and even blood.

“What are you doing, man?”The guy questioned, an annoyed look on his face.”Can’t you see I am with a girl? I need privacy, man, so go get you a drink.”

The man began to search for your arm, and it was his mistake, because the Mandalorian returned his wrist, the bone creaking under Mando’s gloved hand and the man fell from his chair violently, breaking it in the process.

“Hey! Man! Watch what you’re doing! I am with my girl!”

Wide-eyed, you watched Mando shielding you from the man with his body. Why wasn’t he focusing on the bounty, you asked yourself naively.

“She is not your girl.”The Mandalorian replied, an authoritarian and threatening tone in his voice.

“Oh damn right she is, right sweetie?”

The man gazed at you, waiting for an answer you didn’t have. You just stared at him in awe, still sitting. Why Mando had intervene?

“Sweetie, tell him you are my girl.”The man insisted, giving you an encouraging look.

“She is mine.”The Mandalorian claimed, his gloved hand searching for yours.

You laced your fingers with Mando’s, enjoying the soft fabric of his glove, and processing what he had just call you.

Mine.

Were you his?

“You really think you have a chance, tin can? A Mandalorian with such a beauty? You’re kidding!”The man began giggling still on the ground, his broken wrist on his stomach.”What? You really believe she is into this helmet thing? Right now I can imagine you saying on the act “the helmet stays on” and you think you have a chance. How hilarious.”

The man chortled, almost choking and spitting blood. The tavern customers were carefully watching the Mandalorian and the man on the ground, almost excited by the fuss and the noise.

You sensed Mando’s grip tightening on your hand, and you knew the man’s words had somehow touched him.

“Mando. Come on. We’re leaving.”You muttered, standing up and trying to lead the Mandalorian towards the exit.

First, he didn’t move and then after a moment of consideration, he began to follow you, his fingers still intertwined in yours.

“You’re really following that tin can, sweetheart?”You heard the man shout but you remained silent, still walking towards the exit, not daring to look back.

In a quick motion, the man caught you and grabbed your arm brutally, forcing you to face him against your will. Instantly, you plunged your eyes into his, quickly frowning when you saw only hatred and violence.

“So you’re into that kind of helmet thing? Such a slut you are. I am sure the slut can’t even handle me.”The man declared, a triumphant gaze in his eyes and his free hand trying to grab your breast to make a point.

You were going to kick him between the legs, but you didn’t have time. The Mandalorian rushed over the man and sent him waltzing over a table, not caring about the customers who were sitting at the now fallen table. Some of the customers began standing up, and grabbing their weapons, ready to charge towards the Mandalorian. Without thinking, you initiated your lightsaber, blocking their way.

“The first one that moves I’ll slice him!”You cried, a slow grin appearing on the corner of your lips at the backward movement of the customers.

The Jedi were becoming more and more rare but they were still as much feared.

Still threatening the customers with your lightsaber, you glanced at Mando who had thrown the man against the wall.

“You love that, don’t you? The blood, the hurting, death. You are no better than me, tin can, and you pretend to be worthy of the slut? Actually maybe you are.”The man chortled, laying on the ground, his hands resting on his stomach and coughing blood.

The Mandalorian kicked him again and pressed his broken wrist with his shoe. He didn’t care if the man die. The blood was flowing, and the man was screaming loudly, and Mando wondered if he really liked violence and blood. Was it why he couldn’t stop hurting this man?

“She is more worthy than the two of us. If you approach her again, it won’t be your wrist that I’ll break.”The bounty hunter said, kicking him one last time.

The man winced in pain and nodded obediently. He was at the mercy of the Mandalorian.

All eyes were on you two. The Jedi and the Mandalorian. You were sure people would talk about it, as they always do. Mando chose this moment to join you, and he took a quick glance at you, checking if you were hurt.

“You good?”You questioned, your lightsaber still glowing and protecting the two of you from whoever would want to try.

He nodded.

“Come on, we’re leaving.”He whispered, letting you walk before him to protect your back in case someone would want to attack you.

You shivered when you felt his gloved hand on your back, leading you slowly towards the exit.

“And the bounty?”You asked, a questioning look on your face.

“Forget it.”

You giggled. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were the reason Mando had suddenly lost control of himself. Was he jealous?

Letting the Mandalorian lead you, you threw glances at the customers, hoping to make them understand you were his and only his. It was foolish, yet you were really enjoying the protective side of the Mandalorian.

“Mando.”You said, when you were outside, away of the curious ears of the tavern.”How are we going to do without money? We won’t last another week. We needed that money.”

“We’ll manage, Y/N.”

You began to head towards the Razor Crest, impatient to see the Child again. The Mandalorian was following your steps, pausing sometimes to glance behind. And then you stopped, and he watched you, his head tilted in slight confusion.

“You know, I don’t mind being yours.”

The Mandalorian sucked in a deep breath, and you smiled, feeling the wind against your face.

“You only have to ask.”You whispered, hoping he had heard you.

You smirked, aware of the effect you had on him, and then you headed towards the ship, not daring to look back.

Mando sighed, watching you walk, there was no one like you.

“She will be the end of me.”He muttered under his breath, resuming his walk.

At that moment, the Mandalorian knew he would follow you everywhere if it meant you were together. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t mind losing himself, because with you, he could be someone better, someone worthy of your love.

⬇️Chapter 9⬇️

Tag List:

@lol-who-am-i @kiaralein @kryttlebee @jedi-dreea @katialvi @heaven77 @eyeliveinabook @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @mitamixer

282 notes · View notes

suca-loca · 3 years

Text

it’s been a long year since we last spoke (how’s your halo?)

Read on Ao3

Words: 11.5k

Tags: Hurt No comfort, Angst, No Happy Ending, No beta we die like Wilbur

Warnings: Body horror, Blood, Death, Suicidal Implications/Thoughts, Mentions Of Torture, Beating/Fighting

Author's Note: I tentatively present you all this fic as my ticket to board the Dream SMP Fandom. I took some creative liberties with this, such as hints of Niki and Wilbur being childhood friends, as well as Niki living near Techno's cabin, and making Niki respawning to restock her hunger bar during her spiraling/villain arc one of her canon deaths. Also, despite Niki wearing a new skin she has stated that her character still wears Wilbur's coat. Just adding that in here so people don't comment that I got her outfit wrong during a certain scene. And finally, even though I feel this is obvious, this is about the characters and not the streamers themselves. With that out of the way, enjoy the fic!

Summary:

"Time down here is like stars, Niki. We're dead, dead for thousands of years, but to them," he points up, "we still shine. It'll take light years for them to realize they are staring at just a memory."

She tries to take a step back, but she's rooted where she stands. "Wilbur," she weeps. "How long have you been down here?"

He laughs.

(There was a time it made Niki's heart stop. It still does, but for different reasons now)

"Eleven years."

Niki covers her mouth to stifle a broken cry.

or; Niki tries, unwillingly may she add, the whole being dead thing. Oh, and Wilbur is there to "help"

The worst part about it is that Niki's whole life doesn't flash before her eyes. It doesn't happen in slow motion and neither is there some comforting, bright light for her to walk towards. It's simply this: one second she's at Church Prime and the next she's falling into pitch blackness.

Then again, she should have known better than to expect any of that dumb cliche stuff 'cause it's not like she died or anything. Not really. Her communicator may say she did, but she knows the truth. She was teleported.

So why does this feel like dying?

foolish girl breaking at the seams from using the same stitching of a burning flag to put yourself back together again. you think the afterlife cares how you arrive? the entry fee is the same for all

She comes in screaming and doesn't stop even when that's all she is anymore. Her body is unrecognizable to her, turned inside out, muscles stretching and bending and snapping in an attempt to mimic the shape she once was.

(She wishes her muscles luck in regressing back into a memory because oh primes, oh dear primes did she try, try again to be the girl wore a white and blue uniform with pride, but that girl only exists now in dreams and sometimes nightmares)

But they can't, for her organs and bones and flesh do not know what it means to not be confined (but they should know, they really should, because she still finds it hard to breath in small spaces ever since Schlatt caged her between iron bars and dirt and Sapnap left her in a hole in the ground over a fish) and so they shake. Convulsing and spasming until she is just sound, just an echo of shrieks that are happening in the past or the present or the future depending on how fast it travels down this tight, narrowed cave she lands in.

Wait, lands in?

She finds herself laying flat on the ground. She blinks. Then does it again for good measure to make sure she's not imaging having eyelids.

She touches her face. Feels the crook of her nose, the curve of her chin, and her soft round ears.

It's all skin. No muscle, no tissue, just her.

Still her.

(For now)

Her body is back. Not whole though - never whole - for she will always be a walking empty space within a solid object, but for now, her body is right. Her body is here. She closes her eyes in relief.

Someone is staring down at her when she opens them again.

"Hello Niki," Wilbur says. "It's been a while."

(It's Doomsday. His name shows up on your communicator and so you become a lit match. The fire eats you away just like the bark of a tree, like the walls of a bakery, two things you once loved most, and you're watching them both burn with his coat over your shoulders, which doesn't help you ignore who you must look like, who you're acting like, whose footsteps you're following in; and doesn't it hurt to know that what's before you isn't just a friend but a reflection?)

She's already scrambling back before she's even fully sat up.

She doesn't get very far, not with the way her wrists twist and bend before finally buckling under the pressure, and she can't find the strength to stand up and run. So all that's left to do is hyperventilate at the way his eyes land on her face, roaming, analyzing, absorbing, trying to read her like a book, unaware she's ripped out the pages long ago. At the way his shadow covers her and maybe once it felt like a blanket, but that time has passed, now all it is is heavy, suffocating, pinning her down. At the way he wears his Pogtopia outfit, pressed and cleaned when the last she saw of it it was covered in ash and black feathers and red, so much red.

But it never comes. In fact, her lungs don't move at all. Almost as if she doesn't need to breathe. As if she hasn't been breathing since she's been down here.

Is that why it was so easy to keep screaming?

"You're not here," she whispers. "Not really."

Wilbur tilts his head to the left.

(Does it in a way a predator would while observing its prey from afar, waiting for the right moment to strike)

"Oh? Where am I then, Niki?"

"My head," Niki responds, practically blurting it out. "Yeah - yeah, that's right. This is just my head playing tricks on me again. A horrible horrible trick, but that's all it is. I - I know it."

Wilbur hums. He sits down as if this will take a while. As if she won't blink and he'll be gone. "Well, that's a damn shame. I was hoping it'd be a beach. Mexican Dream has been talking a lot about La Jolla lately. Sounds like a nice place."

He smiles, suddenly.

(No, not smiles, more like baring his teeth. His very normal teeth that give off the impression that they should be very sharp and very large and very deep in her throat right now)

"Let's hope I don't blow it up."

(Niki is shouting for Wilbur over the chaos when her communicator pings in her pocket. It gets hard to breathe as she reads what it says, and it isn't because every inhale of smoke and pulverized concrete from the tumbling buildings poison her lungs. There's a ringing in her ears, and it isn't because of the TNT that just detonated in front of her. She feels broken, and it isn't because the force of the explosion knocks her back and she skitters across the field, hitting rocks and choking on dirt until she stops on her stomach, limbs bent at weird angles. Her communicator lands right beside her, the screen shattered and static flashing, but she can still catch glimpses of what is on the screen, as clear as day, like a taunt: WilburSoot was slain by Ph1lza)

Niki scrambles to her feet, presses herself as much as she can against the walls, and maybe, just maybe, she'll glitch and go through it and suffocate in a block.

She immediately throws herself away from it when she realizes what she just thought.

Wilbur stands with her. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he says. "I thought it would lighten up the mood. So, how are you?"

"How am I?" Niki echoes. "I'm imagining my dead best friend even though I thought I was getting better and I could have sworn I was, I was I swear I was, and this place, this place, I don't know where this is but it, it just feels - I don't even know why - so familiar and so - "

She pauses.

She looks around.

She was so busy panicking from Wilbur's presence that she never took in her surroundings. She stares at the smooth stone walls, the occasional hanging vines, the little aquarium in the corner right next to the entrance, and, finally, the stand. The stand with two signs on the front that read -

No. It can't be. It just can't.

She won't believe it until she's seen the whole thing.

She walks further in, each step hesitant.

And she notices the way everything around her seems so devoid of life. Almost colorless. Close to numb. She thinks it's her body shutting down, the stress finally getting to her, but no. This is worse. Something's going on. She doesn't know what it is exactly, but she knows it isn't her that's wrong here.

(This time)

Wilbur follows closely behind and, as if to prove her point, his footsteps sound muffled, distant, apart from him, like in the way you hear something underwater.

Maybe she is underwater because everything is getting blurry and her face feels wet.

(Or maybe the better comparison is like hearing something behind glass. She's been tapping against the window of a caravan for months as men in suits discuss a country she bled for just as much as them, if not more, without her. The tapping turns to banging, but it is not the glass that shatters. Not the glass that breaks)

She stills as she catches sight of the small wheat farm in the back room, dried and frail and unkempt.

(Like a flower shop)

It really is her bakery.

"No," she mumbles. Then, more stern, as if it'll blow this place away, as Wilbur should have done the first time. "No no no no this can't… this can't be true. I, I shouldn't be here I - it doesn't make any sense, how how how - "

She whirls on Wilbur, the tears coming in waves now. "What are you doing to me?"

(It's his fault she's back here. It has to be, he's the reason you wanted to burn the memories why this is all gone why this should be gone why isn't this gone gone gone gone)

foolish girl who has become like the nation she despises, you are a crater, there is a hole inside of you where a soul once was and it was caused by your own hands because the only destruction you're good at is your own. you couldn't even kill a child with a nuke, so what makes you think you can end a small room on the side of some hill?

"What do you see?" Wilbur says, and the voice in her head disappears. She can't remember what it said. She shakes her head as if the words will fall out her ears.

Suddenly she can't remember why she's shaking her head.

Her next words come out frail.

"My… my bakery. But how? This shouldn't be possible I, I destroyed it - I - "

"Limbo is different for everybody," Wilbur interjects. "For me, it's a train station."

"Limbo? What are you talking about? What is going on? I was nowhere near L'manburg I was - " Niki's mind blanks.

(Smooth quartz all around her and she feels safe there, that she remembers because there is no killing here, the one place bloodshed does not haunt her, and then crushing disappointment that turns into actual crushing as her body gets shredded, mangled, undone like a ribbon except it does not look pretty)

Wilbur gives her a slicing smile. It cuts her down. "This is the afterlife, Niki."

She blinks. She tries to take a step back, but she's rooted to the spot. "What?"

"The afterlife," he continues, eyes sparkling. "Hell. The void. Eternal darkness. Whatever you wanna call it. I call it home."

"Home?" She repeats, shakily.

foolish girl with no place, no one to call home because she's an expert at finding comfort in things that don't stay, of course he sees this place as home. Although if he really wanted to surround himself in emptiness so bad then he just needed to wait a few months for you to become just that

"I'm not dead," she mutters. She attempts to laugh, because if she laughs then this will sound like a joke. Wilbur would joke about such a thing. After all, he poked fun at exploding L'manburg just a while ago. So of course this is a joke. It has to be. It is, and she will not allow her breakdown to be the punchline.

At Wilbur's unflinching smile she says it again, with more conviction. "I'm not!"

"How else do you think you're talking to me? How your bakery is still in one piece? Sorry to be your grim reaper Niki, but you're dead. And now you're here, in the afterlife, with me!" He leans in close, close enough that she should feel his breath on her.

There is nothing. He is nothing.

(And maybe, so is she)

"Isn't that great? We're together again! You and me, just like the old days. And look," His eyes glance at what she wears. It's the coat. Specifically, Wilbur's coat, wrapped around her shoulders.

"We're even matching," he coos.

She thinks she might scream.

She throws herself away from him, almost throws the coat too, but into the furnace next to her.

('I gotta burn the memories I need to destroy it I need to destroy it I need to destroy it,' she once screamed to no one but herself. History repeats itself)

How she ever found comfort in this ratty, old coat she'll never know. And she'll never care to find out. Not when Wilbur is acting like this, like before, like a loose city wire, all dangerous and unpredictable, each word an electric spark, and Niki is trying not to get stung. She remembers how that story ended.

But her's will not end. Not yet.

"I can't be dead," she argues. "I don't remember that I would remember something like that so I - I can't be dead, and I have two lives left so, no, no I can't be I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive and I'm in bed I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive and you're not real, just a nightmare. I'm alive I'm alive I'm - "

"It's really me, Niki," Wilbur says, and the fire from the furnace roars in response as if his words fan the flames. It's the first time something in this wicked place has felt alive. "In the flesh. Or, rather, a close imitation of it. I think my corpse must have liquified by now, swelling up for months before bursting open, leaving nothing but a skeleton behind. What about you? What did you leave for them to find?"

She covers her ears. "Stop! Stop it stop it stop it!"

"Remember it. Remember your last moments."

"Wilbur, please - "

"Feel your wrist," he says. No, orders. And she does. Because she, at her core, is still his soldier.

(She says that she is loyal to him and he responds by saying he wants her to be loyal to L'manburg. She remembers being confused, for she saw them both as the same. Wilbur is L'manburg and L'manburg is Wilbur, one cannot coexist without the other. A few months later, amongst the wreckage of her nation and a father's anguished screams, she'll realize too little too late how true her statement holds)

She doesn't find her heartbeat.

For a second she thinks she made a mistake. That she has her fingers in the wrong place, but no. A soldier knows where to look for life so that they may snuff it out. She can't be making a mistake.

Still, she presses her fingers down, harder this time, nails first, that blood draws, and sobs as she's still met with nothing.

She has no heartbeat.

She is dead.

She chokes. She clutches her chest, not because it hurts to know what she lacks in her chest, but because she remembers. Remembers it so intently, remembers it happening in the snap of a finger, literally, from a smiling God (and maybe it is quite a fitting end, for she goes out the same way she lived, giving second chances to men who don't deserve it) and how the world tilted as the ground slipped away.

But what's worse is the realization that comes after.

"I didn't leave anyone anything to find," she says.

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I didn't leave anyone anything to find because I didn't die," she says again, but weaker. More horrified. "I was teleported. I was on the holy lands when - "

"Teleported?' Wilbur interrupts. His features, just a second ago, eccentric and mad, turn curious. "Wait wait wait, hold on a second, are you telling me you were sent to Hell, Hell, on the fucking Holy Lands? "

Niki weakly nods.

It goes silent.

Suddenly, a snort. A snort that does not sound like it once did, back before the war for independence, before the election, before banishment, before it all, when all there was was a caravan and the worst of their worries was getting Sapnap a vegan hotdog. It's meaner, more shrill, and laced with a madness that seems to roll off his tongue so easily nowadays.

If she weren't watching how hard Wilbur's shoulders shake she'd have never guessed such a sound would come from him.

But there's something else about this snort that chills her to the core. Although she never could have imagined it coming from Wilbur doesn't mean she hasn't heard this kind of laugh before.

It's almost breathless, almost like something left on a stove, steaming, almost like the sound of -

(Dream and Wilbur worked together, both wanted L'manburg gone, both almost killed a kid, both cut off attachments, both lost trust in others, all things Niki has done too, and if Niki is like Wilbur and Wilbur is like Dream then that means - )

(No. Please, no)

"That is -," Wilbur wheezes, wiping away a tear. "That is horribly ironic."

"DreamXD!" She shouts, head tilted up. "Take me back! Take me back right now!"

Wilbur shakes his head. "Oh, no need to try that. I've been there. The whole shouting for help thing? Yeah, will do you no good. No one can hear you down here."

"DreamXD! I'm here!"

"Scream all you want, prime knows you don't need to breathe down here so nothing's stopping you from doing it for forever, but when your screams are all you hear for eternity… well, it'll drive any person mad."

"DreamXD," she shrieks. And her lungs don't shake, don't even give a small quiver, she knows it. Nothing in her does, for the gears don't need to be turning to keep this machine of a body that's been on autopilot since an explosion knocked her off her feet alive anymore. "Please!"

"You stop talking after a few years of just endless screaming for your voice becomes a reminder of your entrapment. But then the silence itself, after a few years, is unbearable. Yet you don't dare speak or make any noise, so it's just madness of a new kind."

She pushes her way past him and makes her way to the exit of her bakery. "I - I liked the magic trick, DreamXD! I really did! You - you can teleport me back now!"

"Too scared to make a noise, but too scared to keep quiet. So you stand still. Your body deteriorates, muscles numb from lack of use, and all you do is use your nails to scratch marks onto the walls to mark how many years have passed since… since absolutely nothing."

She stills. She slowly turns around.

(L'manburg is surrounded by a wall. A wall so mighty and tall she never thought she'd see the day it'd be torn down, much less by its own inhabitants. But this wall right here, the one between her and this old friend, this is a wall that will never meet the same end as its predecessor)

"Wilbur," she whispers. "What do you mean by years?"

Silence.

Wilbur has a far-away look in his eye.

(That look was born in a dirt hole on the side of a small hill and Niki doesn't learn that lesson for she builds her bakery in a similar place. Two places, so small, so cramped, started with hope, have become their worst downfalls, their unfinished symphonies. She parallels him in all the wrong ways)

She tries to take a step back, but she's rooted where she stands. "Wilbur," she weeps. "How long have you been down here?"

He laughs.

(There was a time it made Niki's heart stop. It still does, but for different reasons now)

"Eleven years."

Niki covers her mouth to stifle a broken cry. She was paralyzed before but now, with fear pumping through her veins, she runs. Fear is a more dependent motivator than strength or bravery could ever be, for fear, unlike any other heroic emotion, can't be beaten out of you. Can't be threatened out of you by a friend on your birthday as you try to stop him from pressing a button. Fear only grows, like a weed, you can try to get rid of it all you want, but it multiplies the more you struggle.

She finally gets to the exit, nearly throwing herself at it, only to find a stone wall staring back at her. It's been cemented shut.

She's trapped.

(She is in a cage, a zoo animal for Manburg citizens to point and laugh at. It is cramped, it is humiliating, and it is her home, her everything in wake of becoming nothing to people she once considered friends, Schlatt tells her. Until Quackity frees her. But there is no one to free her now. Except herself)

She pulls up her sleeves and begins mining with her bare hands.

She's been torn apart before, but at least it was quick. This, the way her flesh slowly peels off at each scratch is its own kind of torture. Not because it's painful, but the torture in knowing what you're willing to do to yourself just to see the sky again.

She keeps going.

(She does not throw up at the sight of chunks of flesh dangling where nail once was because she is a soldier and she has seen worse. Seen a child trapped in a box screaming for help and she's unfortunate enough to have a seat in the splash zone. Helped patch up Ponk's wound where his arm should be, afraid she might lose him to blood loss because whoever chopped his arm off didn't cut across the joint to avoid the bone and therefore had to hack again and again and again to get through the bone. Sewed Fundy's head back together from when Schlatt beat him over the scalp with a beer bottle before dying in the caravan; it took a couple of hours to finish because his fur made it hard to spot the bits of glass sticking out his skin. This is not the first or last time she will wash blood off her clothes, she just has to hope it will continue to be someone else's and not her own)

Wilbur comes up beside her. He doesn't even try to stop her, much less flinch at all the red on the wall. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Tommy did."

She snaps her head to him, her clawing ceasing. "Tommy was here?"

He nods. "Arrived a few years ago. I have to admit, when a space opened up here I thought it would be him again, not you. Not that I'm complaining. Don't get me wrong he's a good kid but, well, you know how Tommy gets."

(Everyone you've ever hated, everyone you've ever sworn to end; Schlatt, Tommy, and although you do not hate Wilbur or Jack you're relationship with them is complicated because they remind you of when you spiraled, you lot are all connected now, bound together from sharing the similar experience of death. She can never separate herself from them. Will be rever grouped in with the people she can't stand most)

"How long was Tommy here for?" She asks softly.

Wilbur clicks his tongue. "Two months I think."

She closes her eyes.

(She wanted to look deep into the crater Tubbo's nuke made and confuse Tommy's charcoal, burnt body for obsidian. She wanted to catch Tommy's choked last breaths in a bottle and get drunk on it every night. She wanted to leave spruce wood on his grave as a sort of flag marking her latest conquest. She wanted to stop thinking that if Wilbur was wrong for believing in Tommy then that means he might have been wrong for believing in her)

She doesn't want Tommy dead anymore and although they're still not friends even she wouldn't wish this on him.

"Two months," she says, and it sinks in.

Is that how long she'll have to wait until someone comes looking for her?

That is if someone even cares to look.

(Puffy doesn't respond to any of her messages after their first date. She turns Jack away when he tries to pull her back into the obsession of caving Tommy's head in. Everyone grieving L'manburg remembers her setting L'mantree aflame. Anyone in the Eggpire is too far gone to even care about themselves. She doesn't have a Tubbo. Isn't anyone's disk. She's just Niki, forgotten, ignored Niki, the first ghost of the server before Ghostbur. Why spare a glance at someone transparent? Someone, not all there?)

No one will come for her.

Wilbur cracks his fingers, and Niki winces, for her bones are still on flesh display and slowly repairing. "Well, now that we've played twenty questions let's move on to a new game. You up for some solitaire?"

She rises to her feet and numbly nods. She might as well have something to do to, to try and prevent the inevitable insanity with a card game.

Might as well accept her fate.

Wilbur reaches into his pocket and pulls out the cards. He sits down on the ground. "Sorry," he says. "I'd offer we play on a table but there are no tables in a train station and I doubt your bakery has one either." He hands her half of the deck. "Help me set it up."

But Niki doesn't take them, for she's focused on the word table because -

(There's a table, a weird table, made up of this block she's never seen before. It's sponge-like, with a hole on top decorated by a blueish-green frame, and she's about to ask where they found it when Phil suddenly apologizes for exploding her bakery. At her shocked expression, he explains he'd like to air out all possible tensions before starting their first-ever official Syndicate meeting so that no past grievances keep them from working as an effective team. Techno merely snorts, saying it's not their fault her bakery was on government land, and Phil responds by shooting him a glare fit for his title as Angel of Death. She'd have laughed, she'd have cried because such a look was once how Phil got Wil to eat his vegetables if it weren't for the fact she tells them they have nothing to apologize for. Tells them she left the oven on the day before the attack and by next sunrise, it was already burnt to the ground. Ranboo doesn't blink once from where he sits across from her as she talks. She sees in his eyes that day, how her laughs and her wails blend in with the chaos around her, as if it belongs there, as if she is one with it. And maybe she is, for the fire that consumes her bakery grows and grows and grows but Niki just gets smaller and smaller and smaller as if she has to sacrifice bits of herself to keep the fire going. Perhaps she is, for every monster requires an offering, and her bakery is that. A representative of the old her burning alive to make room for the new, merciless, unhinged her. Good. She looks down at the flint and steel in her hand and in the reflection of the metal she sees a boy with mismatched eyes standing behind her, staring. And then he takes out his book and writes. It feels like Ranboo has placed a noose around her neck. The memory fades and she holds her breath. She waits for him to say something, to call out her lie. This time, Ranboo undoes the knot. He looks away)

Because she needs to tell Ranboo she appreciated his silence that day. Needs to joke about how all this snow reminds her of an ice cream shop and watch Ranboo nervously laugh as she lightheartedly punches him on the shoulder.

Because she needs to know how that story Phil was telling her about his adventures with Techno on another server, something about an Antarctic Empire, ends. Needs to feed the crows with him to make sure he doesn't stare at their wings for too long.

Because she needs to braid Techno's hair one last time while they talk about how pink is clearly the superior hair color. Needs to thank Techno for giving her these becauses, for they wouldn't exist in the first place had he not offered her a place in the Syndicate.

Ironically enough, she always knew she'd die before she could give back all that she owed them. But only because what she owed them was too long a list, too difficult to be expressed in any way that captured what they deserved.

(Somewhere, in a snow biome, there is a family. They're different from each other, too different at times, and yet Ranboo and Techno could wear each other crowns, each fitting perfectly on their heads and no one would know of the switch, except for Phil of course. Right now they're probably looking at their comms around the dinner table, confused by the last message. 'Nihachu fell from a high place.' They aren't worried. Not yet. But in a couple of days, months for her, they'll start to pace. Phil will stand at the edge of the roof, ready to step off, only to remember he doesn't have wings, can't look for her high up in the sky like he used to when she was a kid. Ranboo will force himself through experiments, lose sleep, break himself in, trying to learn how to teleport so as to cover ground faster in the search, to do more than just let his powers go to waste when they could be what brings her home. Techno will grab her rainbow sweater and put it to Steve's snout, but the trail will go cold every time until eventually all of Niki's clothes don't smell like her anymore. They'll do this every day. Nothing will change but their hope, dwindling away each day. So will they just stare at that last message, her unintentional goodbye, looking for some sort of explanation? For some secret message? Some coordinates until they go mad? They won't think she's dead until they've found a body. Won't stop looking, won't leave a corner of the server untouched. Won't stop till they have something to bury)

She can't do that to them.

She slaps the cards out of Wilbur's hands.

"No," she growls, trying to sound tough and less like a kid throwing a tantrum. Perhaps slapping the cards away was not the best start. "I am not going to waste my time playing Solitaire when I could be spending it finding a way back home. And I will if it's the last thing I do."

Wilbur frowns. Niki has the inkling suspicion it has more to do with the cards being all scattered about than from her declaration. "There is no 'last thing I do anymore.' You dying was the last thing you'll ever do. All you have now is this. This is your forever. Our forever."

She turns away from him, just for a second. Away from the sight of his furrowed brows and the crinkles in the space between them where her index finger would go to poke as she teased him. Away from the scrunch of his nose she would joke made him and Techno finally look like twins. Because despite everything, despite all the months that have settled into their bones since the last they saw each other and the wars they've fought on land and in their minds, it's still Wilbur's face. But only in the physical sense. After that, he stops being her Wilbur.

This would be so much easier if his face had physically morphed into a stranger, to prove to her how much he's changed, what he's become over the months, is not all in her head.

Somehow, she finds a way to start.

"You know, not too long ago I'd have stayed with you here. I wouldn't have even put up a fight. I'd have just laid down, closed my eyes, and let the vines on these walls grow over my body until I was just moss. I was… I was so tired, Wilbur. A part of me always will be. I understood. I finally got why you acted the way you did. There was a time I was on half a heart and instead of eating I would - "

Her body begins to shake so hard she almost expects to look down and she cracks in the ground from an incoming earthquake. The only cracks see she's are her own.

She can't say it. Not like that. Not yet.

" - I would respawn to restock the hunger bar," Niki chokes out instead.

(She respawns with dried blood on the back of her head and bones still rattling from the fall. Along her jutting spine, in an almost perfectly straight line that could be confused for an unkempt path lost to weeds and drought, are bruises. She doesn't feel them. All she feels is the urge to do it again)

She blinks and her hand is in her hair, looking for the bump. She pulls her hand away as if it's a hot furnace. "But I can't stay. Things have changed. I've changed. This is not the first time something dark has tried to consume me, but I can't let it win this time. I can't let this place turn me numb and unhinged, or worse, content. Not when I have people to go home to. Not when - "

She looks down at her hand, the one that traced her scalp, and sees it has clenched into a fist.

(At the count of three, Niki throws rock. She groans as she notices all the other hands make paper. Ranboo and Techno exhale as if the losing sentence wasn't shoveling the front lawn, but death. Or worse, going shopping with Phil for a refrigerator to put in the Syndicate meeting room. Ranboo lost that one. Niki points at Techno's hooves and says it's cheating since they can't ever tell which shape he chooses. She demands a rematch with the same tone one uses to declare war. A few minutes later, they're shouting, going over the rules of rock, paper, scissors, and they only stop when Phil comes home and pulls out the dad voice. They begrudgingly agree to do a rematch another time, once they've cooled down. That was yesterday)

She holds her fist close to her heart. The hand was never her rock, it was always three men in a snowy cabin, handing her a mug of hot cocoa. "Not when I have a lawn to shovel."

Silence.

Then, Wilbur sighs. "You know," he says. He places his arms behind him and leans back to get a better look at her. Somehow, even on the ground, he looks to hold all the power. "Years ago your determination would have been a sight for sore eyes, but here's a reality check. I've been here for almost a dozen years. Eleven years of letting the passing train rip right through me in the hopes it would send me to another layer of hell or maybe propel, heck, even drag my body to the next station. But every time I'd wake up back in the train station as if nothing had happened. Like my body breaking under the wheels was nothing."

He is an avalanche, growing and picking up speed with each word, and Niki realizes, too little too late, she's about to be buried alive. She tries to step back, but Wilbur is up quick and approaching. "There is no escape. The limbo is our stage and we have our lines, our cues, but we do not have a curtain call. We just keep going and going, an endless loop. You can't not play your part. It won't let you."

"I have to at least try," she says.

"Why? What's the point? They'll never know you tried."

Her fear turns to disgust. "Is that why you think I'll try? For the sole reason that one day they'll know what I've done for them? That's far from the truth."

(People built statues of Tommy, for all he's done, for all the influence he had on this server. Niki knows they will not give her the same treatment. But that's fine, more than fine. All she needs is a grave in the snow, beside a little cabin)

She didn't want to look at Wilbur's face before, but now, glaring at him straight on, all she sees staring back is Phil.

The day they found out Wilbur didn't inherit Phil's immortality was the day Phil looked like he should, centuries-old instead of thirty-three, the age when angels stop physically aging. Niki will never forget how deep the lines on Phil's face ran. They might as well have been cracks. And maybe it was, for Phil was breaking as he held his dying son - not dying now, but for an immortal, every second a mortal breathes is just inevitable death - in his arms.

But what still haunts Niki the most after all these years are his eyes. They carried the weight of the world in them. She could feel it, even now, pressing down on her shoulders. All the wars, the fall of cities, the birth of them, children with big smiles and even bigger graves.

Niki was not a soldier yet. She was just a nine-year-old girl who wanted to sleep over at her best friend's house.

She threw up in their sink and they mistook it as her reaction to the news. She didn't correct them.

The only reason she slept easy that night was from the knowledge she would never see those eyes on Wilbur's face. And yet, lo and behold, here it is, like a punch to the gut.

Except now, Niki has had time to numb herself to it. It's hard to get surprised by such a dead look when it's on the face of your roommate.

(Phil's screech - no, not a screech, a caw, high pitched and grief-stricken - is like an alarm clock. Except, instead of Niki waking up to the rising sun outside her window, it's to moonlight and blinking stars. This is the fifth time this month she's met Ranboo and Techno outside Phil's cabin, armed to the teeth, ready for war. The door creaks open, loudly, but they don't wince, for they know it won't wake him. Nothing really does when he's in this state, except for one thing. Techno holds him down and it's weird, will always be weird, to see Techno use such force, such retaliation, on Phil of all people, and then Phil nearly throws Techno through the wall with just a brush of his fingers, and she remembers it's necessary. This isn't Phil they're dealing with, it's the Angel of Death. It takes a while until Techno can get all of the Angel's limbs down, but even then they know it won't last long, and that's when Niki throws a slowness potion on him. Ranboo, meanwhile, turns around all the photos of Wilbur in the room, a safe distance away. They told him it's best he handles that since he's built like a stick, putting him anywhere near a powerful avian would be an accident waiting to happen. It definitely has nothing to do with them freezing up whenever they see Wilbur's smiling face, all happy, and so very alive. Phil's movements turn sluggish as the potion kicks in and Niki holds his face, murmurs soft words, and Techno gives his own weird, but comforting, comments. Something about how Phil can't afford to lose sleeping beauty to these night terrors, what with his old age. Niki snorts. Phil's eyes open immediately. Phil sucks in a sharp breath, like he's forgotten how to breathe, his fist clenching and unclenching. The eyes are back. Based on Techno's face Niki knows then she's not the only person that has seen them. They look at each other, nod, and hold him as he cries. They don't need to ask. There's only one person that could cause such a look. They force Ranboo, who is awkwardly standing to the side, to join. Eventually, they break apart, and Techno coughs. He says he hates them for making this all emotional and bans such an awkward event from ever happening again. And yet, when Phil keeps waking up with eyes too dark around the corners, Techno is there. And so is she and Ranboo)

She will not be the reason Phil's eyes age another year.

"It's about Phil, Techno, and Ranboo deserving someone who will never stop trying to find their way back to them," she says, with conviction. "I'm sorry you're too twisted to see not all actions stem from reward or acknowledgment."

She expects a laugh, a glimpse at his forked tongue spewing words so sweet she could use them as sugar in her desserts, only to take a bite and realize it was salt all along. But what she gets is silence. The type of silence before a storm.

"Phil?" Wilbur whispers.

Niki closes her eyes.

She should have never said their names.

She also should have never opened her eyes again, because Wilbur is looking more like Phil each second. Not because of the eyes. No, worse. Because she sees a boy, a boy with his arms spread open wide and flapping about in an attempt at mimicking his father's wings, and they're both running around in circles in the backyard as he tells her how she'll never have to walk anywhere ever again. He'll carry her when she's tired, when she's not tired, whenever she wants wherever she wants. They stop running around in circles flapping their arms when too much time has passed and his wings still haven't grown in, but the acceptance that it never would did.

She blinks and the memory is gone. Slipping through her fingers like sand.

"How is he?" Wilbur says. His voice wavers a bit. He hides it quickly with a cough, but Niki catches it. Niki thought she always would.

(But then a button was pressed and she realized just how untrue that was)

Niki hesitates. She thinks about the night terrors again. She almost mentions them but falters as she remembers Ranboo telling her how it was Phil who gave him a place to stay after L'manburg was blown up for the last time. How as Technoblade hibernates there's a blanket over his shoulders that wasn't there before and a stick missing from the fireplace. How he always places Niki's plate of breakfast down before the others, as if he knows of her first canon death.

He is a kind man, but that is not why he does these things.

"He misses being a father," she settles on.

Wilbur's shoulders slump. Somewhere, in a different life, Niki's hand is there, squeezing comfortingly. "Is he… is he mad at me?"

"No." She answers quickly. "He's just tired, Wilbur. We all are."

Wilbur laughs. It sounds defeated. Mournful. "Understatement of the fucking year."

He slumps against the wall and Niki is sure it's the only thing keeping Wilbur on his feet. His head hits the smooth stone when he suddenly throws his head back and laughs. Niki doesn't know if she winces from the loud crack the impact makes or from the shrill, unhinged laugh.

"I told him to kill me," Wilbur chuckles. His eyes are blinking rapidly. "I told him to fucking kill me."

(The diamond sword has collected dust. Sometimes, everyone jokes, Phil looks like he has to. Playful teasing about how he's a walking antique that should be displayed in a museum. Phil always laughs them off. But it's moments when he stands too still, alone in his thoughts for too long, that Niki wants to put him behind glass with signs that say 'do not touch,' because all it takes is one gust of wind for an artifact to shatter. But that is no way to live and Phil is not so easily breakable. Worn down a bit, rusted from the loss throughout the eons, yes - who hasn't on this forsaken server? - but not breakable)

Niki thinks she might throw up. "I know."

Wilbur looks at her. His eyes are red, but there are no tears. "You said you understood me. You get why I had to ask him to do it."

"Wilbur - "

" - And so you also understand why you have to stay here."

"What?"

"We've changed Niki," Wilbur starts. "For the worse. Don't you feel it? How that server has destroyed every cell in our body? A slow painful death eating us from the inside out until we've just withered away into someone new, someone unrecognizable?"

(Niki feels she's in a never-ending house of mirrors. Constantly encircled by reflections that are her and not her staring back, each representing different points in her life. Some are unrecognizable, stretched, or squished beyond identification, like a fuzzy memory of a girl carrying a backpack, skipping down a path she was told by a best friend would lead to a nation with yellow and black walls. Some are too terrifying, demonizing her features, giving her slits for eyes and claws for nails holding flint and steel over TNT. All of them she wants to smash)

Wilbur either ignores the horrified expression on her face or doesn't see it. "We killed our old selves as a sacrifice, an offering, to the monster we saw lurking in the edges of our mind. And once you let the monster in there's no going back. All we know from then on is to destroy, to rip apart all we once held dear with no remorse until there's just ash and dust. We thrive, no, revel in it."

(Nemesis, she names herself. Goddess of divine retribution and revenge. Maybe that's who Niki sacrifices herself to. Why she felt such an attachment to the name. A remorseless Goddess said to have led Narcissus to a pool, knowing full well he'd be too captivated to leave his reflection for food or warmth. He died there. It's no coincidence a few weeks before she lived the story herself, leading Tommy to his death in the form of a hot blast of air at the speed of light and seeing it as justice)

"I'm not having this conversation with you," she says, voice shaking. She whirls around, nearly tripping over her feet, fully willing to ignore him as she looks for an exit.

But his next words make her go still.

"Phil didn't know what I'd become. That's why he had to be the one to do it."

She winces. "Don't."

"He didn't even pull out the sword, his arms were too busy holding me, holding me, as if the shape of me still fit against his chest even though I felt so hollow, so much thinner - "

"Wilbur - "

" - he stroked my hair too. Even though it was dirty and unkempt and a mess like everything else about me and I'm pretty sure his fingers got stuck a few times he just wouldn't stop untangling each knot with such care and precision that I remembered my last thought being - "

"Wilbur - "

" - could he have brushed away all the knots and twists in my soul like this? Cleaned me up on the inside like he's doing on the outside? I thought I went crying, Niki. Maybe I did. I'll never know because all I felt was his tears ricocheting on my face - "

"Stop - "

" - he tries to wipe them off. He's cursing at himself, apologizing profusely through hiccuping sobs and, and I don't understand why he's so sorry when it feels like, like when he'd lick his fingers and scrub the grimes of our faces after we played outside too long. Do you remember that Niki - "

"I don't wanna - "

" - because I do. We'd screech so loud, saying it was disgusting and unsanitary as we slapped his hand away and ran, but he'd always catch us a second later because of his wings. I don't wanna run away this time. I'm relishing it, craving every stroke because I'm starting to go cold - "

"Please - "

" - and I wish you weren't teleported here. I wish you had died instead - "

"Wil - "

" - so you would know, so we could relate to what it feels like for the limbo to claim you. To mark you. It's like, it's like being mutilated over and over again. A mallet to your bones, a hole in your brain, everything from your skin to your tendons unraveling before you - "

"Wil listen - "

" - spilling out and about like confetti, and you, you are confetti! You're shredded pieces, everywhere and nowhere all at once, and just as the mangling begins it stops, replaced by the limbo trying to put you, no, force you back together again. It's the same sensation, but in reverse, almost a loop, a tunnel with no light at the end, and all you can do is scream - "

"WILBUR SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!"

Something shatters

Wilbur falls silent.

Niki looks down. There is a puddle, slowly growing at her feet. She looks to her left. Her hand has punched through the aquarium. Blood trickles down her hand, some get over the glass. She doesn't pull her hand away.

"You never listen," she mumbles, but it seems so loud to her ears. "No one does. No one wants to. I talk and I talk and I talk and yet no response. Not even from the wind. I am a voice box stuck on rewind, repeating myself as life moves on without me."

Niki can hear her voice ring down the bakery, bouncing around with nowhere to settle. Until it does, in Niki's chest, rattling, crackling like a fuse has been lit, and perhaps it has, for her anger feels sizzling. "You used to always say how words were powerful. How they could stop wars, how they could build nations." She lets out a laugh. It burns her throat. "But what would I know?! You and everyone else never gave me a chance to use my voice! Always talking over me whatever chance you could. Even before Pogtopia you walked all over me! Even when I was screaming at top of my lungs you'd - "

She gasps. The glass presses deeper into her skin as her hand trembles. She does not feel it. "Oh primes, oh primes Wil, didn't you hear my screams? I came here screaming, Wil. I, I do know what it feels like for the void to take you. I still feel it, even now, why, why do I still feel it - "

Wilbur staggers to his feet, so quick he promptly falls. He catches himself halfway on Niki's wrist.

His hand scratches on the glass. He doesn't even flinch. Their blood mixes.

(They are one)

He doesn't even grip too tight, and yet it hurts. Stings. "You do understand," he grins. Wide, too wide for his face, that she almost expects his nose and eyes to sink into his skin to make more room. "You do, you do oh thank primes. I'm not alone in this. I've been alone for so long but now, now you're here and you understand! Oh, Niki, I'm so happy you're here."

"You're… happy, I'm here?" She mutters. "You're happy I'm dead?"

He nods frantically. "It's more than that Niki," he says. "DreamXD, whoever that man is, he's my hero for sending you here."

(Parallels between Wilbur and Dream and her and now Wilbur and Dream and DreamXD no no no she can't be them she can't she can't she won't she won't - )

"You don't mean it," she cries. "You don't mean that Wil. Say you don't mean it."

The grin, somehow, becomes wider. She realizes then his eyes don't have to disappear. They're already gone. Replaced by a black hole, too dark in the corners and its gravitational pull making it hard to look away even though she knows staring at it too long will get her sucked into an endless void.

He leans in close like he's sharing a secret. "I only wish he had sent you here sooner."

(Wilbur's life, Niki is realizing, is like a house of mirrors too. Except Wilbur has smashed every mirror. No, actually, not true. Niki sees, if she squints, that Wilbur has abandoned the sledgehammer and is observing a still intact mirror. He didn't keep the mirror depicting a little boy sitting on the steps of a home, their home, trying to play a song and failing because the guitar is too big for his body, but he refuses to buy a smaller one because "this is my Dad's guitar Niki! So, therefore, it's by default the best guitar in the world". Or the one of a father panting heavily on a couch, cursing his human legs while Niki is doubled over laughing because there is a baby fox is running on all fours around the house at 45 miles per hour who doesn't want to be put to bed. Nor the one of a leader, handing out purpose and meaning in the form of a blue and white uniform with a soft smile. No, it's the one of a man who's just pressed a button. Who long before L'manburg's destruction, always felt like he was breathing in smoke, but now kept warm by the ash and dust of his nation flying up to the red sky, it feels - for the first time in a long time - easier to breathe. Niki can't believe he didn't destroy it. He's… preserving it. Why is he preserving this version of himself of all things?)

foolish girl with dreams for a better nation, better server, better future, too much better somethings, you've ruined reality for no one but yourself. think for once about what is and not what was or could have been. he is different. changed for the worse. he's preserving it because he doesn't care about you. can't you see how happy he is over your death? how there's light in his eyes for the first time over yours being snuffed out? how he shows no sympathy in your entrapment here, forever away from Techno, Phil, and Ranboo because it benefits him. so give in and fight fight fight fight

She sees red.

Her fist collides with Wilbur's nose.

She doesn't even wait to hear the crack before she's already reeling back her arm for the next hit.

This time she aims for the jaw. She feels something split. It could be Wilbur's lip or bone. Maybe her mind. She doesn't know and she doesn't care.

What she does know is how familiar this is, having something break under her knuckles. It's easy, familiar even, throwing punch after punch, like some sort of autopilot response. Perhaps it is, for every punch is instinctive, out of body almost. No longer is there a before in the blows, only an after.

Except, that's not true. Not entirely. Because Niki is realizing why there is no before. Because before each blow there is always a struggle from your opponent. Flailing limbs trying to make contact with something, choked wheezes, an attempt to curl into a ball, and, sometimes, begging.

Wilbur does none of that. He's silent the whole time.

It's almost like he takes it willingly.

clever girl with hands too bruised, too scarred, too violent to ever be held so gently. a finger trained to pull the trigger is not meant to bear a promise ring. who's fault do you think that is? you've held back for so long, don't stop now. so give in and get revenge revenge revenge revenge

A swing at his eye. A swift kick to the ribs. A fistful of his hair so tight she could yank his scalp off if she twisted her wrist just so.

It's all a flurry of movements really, too fast for even her own eyes to catch. Half of the time she's lost on where the hits land, totally dependent on wherever the blood leaks the most and the bruises that weren't there a second ago to tell her. Eventually, the damage starts to blur, too much of his face has swelled up to spot any new marks and too many limbs bend at weird angles to differentiate what is and isn't broken, so she stops trying to guess.

Which is why she doesn't know which strike finally gets Wilbur to fall, all she knows is that he does. He doesn't even sway. One second he's on his feet and the next he's on his back.

It's kinda pathetic really, that this was her general.

For a second he's still, too still, and then he spits out a tooth. He licks his gums with a grimace, looking for the gap before finally speaking.

"I see Technoblade's been training you. Do you feel better now?"

clever girl who's seen her fair share of men with livewire tongues, spitting rogue sparks at your skin in the form of harsh words to quiet you down. do not be silenced once more. you let him speak before and it cost you a nation. this time silence him, and I will secure you a limbo without him. so give in and maim maim maim maim

She screams. She thinks she does. It's hard to tell over the deep reverberated banging of Wilbur's head against the stone floor.

The first slam simply causes blood to trickle down his forehead.

The second one caves in the front of his scalp.

The third one he's unrecognizable.

The fourth one there's nothing left to bash.

She keeps going anyway.

"Shut up," she pants between each crack and occasional splat. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP."

Wilbur tries to say something. All that comes out is a gurgle, wet and sharp and loud. So very loud. And it keeps going, stringing along and along and along longer than the large chunks of skin and brain on the pavement. It shouldn't be possible, his mouth, along with everything else, is practically gone. Nothing but a small pit inside a bigger pit.

Yet it continues, getting increasingly louder in pitch.

And then she gets it.

He's scared.

clever girl of never-ending war zones, jumping from one horror to the next. this is the last one. and I know that's been said before but you can trust me. just end it and you can finally rest. wouldn't that be nice? so give in and kill kill kill kill kill

She smiles. It hurts her face.

She picks his head up from the ground one last time. She's humming, like a lullaby. Maybe it is. She's putting the baby to sleep. She knows he can't die again, but wherever he goes after this, if the limbo keeps its promise, it can't be pretty.

"I said," she laughs. "Shut up."

She brings his head down.

She blinks.

Her empty hand meets black stone slabs.

"Niki?"

She looks up and immediately regrets it. Everything is too bright, scorching, a burning gaze on every inch of her skin, but what really hurts are her eyes. She thinks they're sizzling, like actually sizzling, because her sclera feels as if it's bubbling and her iris is definitely melting into her brain and there are so many spots dancing behind her eyelids.

And then the voice, soft and familiar, speak's again.

"Do you have your stuff?"

It takes a while, and a lot of blinking, but her eyes eventually readjust.

She gasps.

The first thing she processes isn't that George and DreamXD stand just a few feet away or that it was George speaking. No, it was how absurdly colorful, everything was.

Here there was life. Life. It was like she poked her head through a kaleidoscope, what with how the specks of a rainbow illuminated itself in the clear blue water of the fountain and the sight of shimmering white quartz glistening under the sunbeams that poured through the purple-tinted windows. No longer was everything dulled around the corners and drained at the center like anything in her dreadful, cramped space of a bakery she shared with -

Oh primes.

Her bakery.

This isn't her bakery. This is Church Prime.

"She's back," DreamXD exclaims. He turns to George, bouncing on his heels excitedly as if expecting some sort of reward, but George pays him no mind/ He's too busy looking at Niki, or, more so, through her.

"What happened?" He asks.

She opens her mouth, then slams it shut.

She's alive. Dear primes, she's alive and she's back and she should be happy, cheering, jumping up and down to feel the livelihood ache in her bones but…

She looks back down at the floor. The floor should be covered in blood. Wilbur's blood, and his bits of flesh and tissue and muscle and -

Oh primes. What has she done?

Or better yet, what didn't she do?

"George," she whimpers. "I don't know what's going on. I, I don't know what's going on here."

She hopes it was her imagination. It had to have been. Otherwise, she hosted Wilbur's head up by the splits of his hair, pushed down as hard as she could and -

She wouldn't. She couldn't, not anymore at least. She left that side of herself in a gate full of slaughtered chickens as Jack demanded they try and kill Tommy again. That side of her is as dead as those chickens.

Right?

She prays so, for this is a church after all, and that means prayers have to be answered here. They have to come true. They have to.

There's a smile in DreamXD's voice when he speaks again as if he knows how much this torments her. "I sent her to hell and then I brought her back."

No.

She sobs. She looks down at her hands. Their bear and yet they feel so heavy. As if the ghost of Wilbur's blood and gore is still there, a new thick-coated layer of skin.

She tortured him. Broke him brick by brick again and again and again even as he tried to beg. Her best friend, her general, her family, begging at her feet, and she kept going, would have kept going too, with an ear-splitting grin, like it was some sort of game.

And it had felt so good to finally get a checkmate.

Wilbur is not a demon. He's just seen too much in too little time. Too much pressure on too little shoulders. Too tired to be all there. It's not an excuse for all the pain he's caused, far from it, but it shows his actions didn't come from a place of malice, but rather a cry for help. Niki knows this, she gets it, and she'll say it time and time again. But all she could think about at that moment, before the final strike, was how happy Wilbur was about her death. He deserved a piece of her mind, but not like that. Never like that.

What is wrong with her?

No, no it wasn't her. It was that place, that voice. It was a parasite, burrowing deep within her brain and planting itself in the center, telling her what to do and what to say. Telling her to slaughter left and right. It was so loud, rattling around in her head and echoing like war drums. She couldn't just ignore it, it was too much. So, no, she is free of guilt, free of responsibility, hands all clean.

But she knows that at the end of the day the host still needs to be somewhat conscious for the parasite to thrive.

Oh primes. Is this what Techno deals with every day?

Then, she jumps to her feet.

Techno, Phil, and Ranboo.

It's coming back now, that memory of fury in her eyes, that fire in her voice as she told Wil she had people to go back to. How she was willing to claw her fingers down to bone to make an exit. But that voice, that stupid stupid voice, it told her she could rest, could get revenge, and against her better judgment she listened. It caught her at a moment of weakness, Wilbur's words of memory lane, of Phil, of everything that came before and after his death, she was at a low point. And like a moth to a flame, she was there one moment and gone the next. Back to the old her.

She thought she had left that version of herself behind when she joined the Syndicate. She was so sure she was getting better with Techno, Phil, and Ranboo around.

But all it took was one voice to ruin all her progress.

Her chest constricts and her head feels heavy.

She needs to find them. She needs to tell them what she saw. She needs to tell Phil. She needs… she needs…

She just needs them.

"What did you see?" George says, snapping her out of her thoughts.

This time, her mouth has no problem moving. "George," she starts, voice trembling. "I have seen things. I... I... I have seen things. I don't know what's going on here but I don't know if I should - "

Niki gulps. It's getting so hard to breathe. She should feel thankful that she can breathe in the first place, but every inhale stings as her lungs try to remember to do a motion so foreign to her.

How long has she been down there?

She doesn't want to know.

She just wants to go home.

She walks away, backward, from the two, eyes fixated tightly on them and barely blinking. She remembers the last time she let her guard down around DreamXD. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry George. Good luck with him but I - "

She doesn't finish, because she's already out the door. She wants to run, but she's so sure her lungs would explode at the first push forward of her heel. So she walks.

And walks.

The world walks with her, with each rotation. As if they’re friends taking a stroll. As if it hadn’t cracked open and swallowed her whole, chewed up everything good in her and spat her out when she turned bitter. Returned her back to a world that didn’t change one bit while she was gone, despite her herself changing so much.

It’s like what happened to her didn’t happen at all.

And then she realizes a horrible thing.

Everyone on this server is going to see today as a normal day.

Is it bad that a part of Niki wishes something like the Green Festival could happen right now, so that they could all feel the monstrosity of today?

She stands still. Stationary, like this Earth wants her to be. She thinks she could do it, stay like this forever. She feels numb enough.

Somewhere above, a crow caws.

She burst into tears.

#dream smp #fanfic #fic #niki nihachu #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #ranboo #the syndicate #the syndicate are found family because I said so #dsmp #niki #niki fic #niki nihachu fanfic #niki fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp fanfic #dsmp fanfic

14 notes · View notes

needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 3 years

Note

Wait, Kohga's got a thing for Daruk? Can I request/lovingly demand to see that? Or you know what, Kohga and any other Goron? Because I would PAY to see Kohga trying to take Goron dick and being like "... I may be in over my head here" 😂

One, Kohga ABSOLUTELY has a thing for Daruk. Big body, LOTS of pretty hair, and does more or less whatever he’s told. Granted I have no clue how much they’d have in common, but it’s smut, so here we go. Two, don’t you underestimate how much dick this man can take. Old Yiga techniques in this bitch.

“You know what, I can KINDA see where you’re coming from with this!”

“RIGHT?!”

Kohga and Daruk had decided to spend time together, upon Mipha’s instance (she was all about that sort of ‘unity’ and shit), and the ONE thing they could bond over? Food. It was why they were by a nearby stable, throwing stuff into a cooking pot. Turns out Daruk was a DAMN good cook, and with their combined ingredients, they were eating their fat asses off. Right now they were eating poultry pilaf, topped with goron spice, AND sliced bananas. Daruk wasn’t for it at the start, but he was now all about it, tucking into his bowl happily. Daruk damn near licked the bowl, nodding in content.

“I didn’t think bananas worked. I’ve had them with apples, but bananas? Somehow works.”

“Bananas go well with EVERYTHING. Add that with the goron spice, AND the way you cook that chicken? Beautiful. Nice skin by the way, crunchy.”

“Prime rock roasts are crunchier, but I don’t exactly think you can eat that.”

“I’ve THOUGHT about it, Link makes it look good.”

They both had a chuckle at that. They liked Link, and his insatiable hunger was one of those factors. Daruk looked through his ingredients, rubbing his chin for a second.

“How about...ooh, mushroom saute?”

“Only if you have Hylian mushrooms.”

“I got sunshrooms, but those are better.”

“Not for mushroom saute!”

Daruk shot him a look as if he was crazy.

“Okay, explain it to me, because sunshrooms are the best mushrooms.”

“Hylian mushrooms absorb the spices better. Sunshrooms are full of heat as is, it’s overkill.”

“Alright, let’s test it, powder puff.”

Kohga handed him the mushrooms, but not before raising a brow.

“I’m sorry, 'powder puff'?”

“Yeah, the hair. It’s like those little makeup puff things.”

“I’m OFFENDED! This is a traditional yiga hairstyle!”

“Is that why EVERYONE has their hair up like that?”

“Look,not everyone can have fucking lynel maned hair like you, don’t rub it in.”

Daruk laughed at that, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just pokin’ fun. Didn’t know people actually liked my hair that much.”

“Course everyone does! Look at this shit!”

Kohga dug his hand in his hair, helping it get only messier. God how pretty, all that hair was. What Kohga would give to pull it. Daruk laughed, cheeks getting rosey as he was getting flustered. Honestly, it was easy to charm Daruk.

“Aw, Kohga, thanks! Really, nice of ya. I’m glad Mipha made us spend time together. I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure how to feel about you when you first joined.”

Kohga shrugged, helping Daruk mix the food, mainly to check if it was done.

“I mean I can’t totally blame you, I DID try to kill you guys. Multiple times.”

“AND get Sooga to kill us a few times. Speaking of, where is the guy? Thought he was always glued to you?”

“Eh, I made him spend some time with Teba. Figured YOU were strong enough to protect little ol’ me.”

“Course I can! Ain’t nothin’ happening to you, even if there WAS something to be scared of!”

Daruk patted his head, and Kohga could swoon. Kohga, ever since he was a young man, had a thing for the big, strong Gorons. Hell, one of his first crushes was a Goron traveller (god did he LAY the flirts on that poor guy). Daruk served them their own bowls of the different sautees, and Daruk nodded thoughtfully.

“You know what, you’re right, actually. Huh, I always thought nothing could taste better than sunshrooms.”

Kohga nodded, swapping bowls with him for a minute.

“I mean the sunshrooms aren’t bad, not dissing your tastes. You like flavors as big as you, can’t say I blame you. Better than Sooga’s cooking anyway.”

Daruk laughed again, smacking his knee.

“Oh he can’t be THAT bad!”

“He doesn’t even LIKE Goron spice! I like the guy, a lot, but he needs to learn how to actually cook. Speaking of, how did YOU learn how to cook?”

“All Goron’s like to teach one another how to cook. I learned from a bunch of Gorons. You?”

“My mother. She was a great cook, taught me everything I know. She loved Goron spice too, always put it on meat. Especially during the holidays. Loved that woman.”

Kohga finished his bowl, about to decide just what they should eat next, when he felt something drop onto his head. He held his hand out, and felt it again. Rain. It then started to sprinkle, and in a manner of seconds, started to pour. They both scurried on inside (with Daruk being a gentleman and using his arm to protect Kohga), and Kohga went to the stablehand at the counter.

“Can we get a room for the night?”

Daruk, lost in his mess of wet hair, shook his head.

“I don’t mind sitting out with everyone, really-”

“I’m not asking. We need a room for this big guy, the biggest one you got.”

Daruk clearly had complaints about Kohga paying, but he wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise. Kohga helped him to his room, and right after getting him to bed, Kohga grabbed a towel, and smacked it on his face, trying to try his hair. Daruk chuckled, clearly not used to someone fussing over him like this.

“Hey, what’s your deal? It’s just some rain!”

“Sooga’s not here, ergo I’m your problem big guy. Now hold still, you’re almost dry.”

Daruk chuckled, sitting still as Kohga got the water out of his hair. Most of it anyway, he was mainly concerned of Daruk being able to see.

“I think I know why Mipha talks so much about you. You’re nice.”

“Hey. Hey. Don’t make me sound all sugar and sweet, rock man. Mipha likes everyone.”

Kohga was being a bit aggressive with the towel, mainly in hopes of getting him to shut the hell up.

“Not like you. She talks about you and Link a LOT. It’s kinda why I agreed to hang out with you, because you mean a lot to her.”

“Bah, it’s just because I set her up with Link.”

“You just don’t wanna admit you’re good.”

Kohga lifted his towel from Daruk’s face, seeing that big, stupid, grinning face of his. He was way different from Sooga, plenty expressive, ALWAYS smiling and chuckling. Not to mention he had the GALL to be so snarky with him.

“God bless your future wife, she needs the patience of a saint to deal with you. Lucky the face saves it.”

Kohga threw the towel at him, choosing to sit next to him and pout. He damn near fell off the bed as Daruk ‘patted’ him on his back.

“I know you meant that as an insult, but that’s super sweet.”

“How?”

Kohga groaned, rubbing his shoulder as the ache reached the rest of his body. Daruk shrugged, cleaning the rest of the rain water off of him.

“You said ‘bless your future wife’. Dunno if I’ll ever have one, but that’s super sweet. You try to be a big, scary guy, but you’re super sweet.”

“You’re lucky you’re not Sooga, HE gets slapped for calling me sweet. But yeah, you’ll have one. You’re tolerable. Something about the way you said that though...thinking about someone?”

Kohga was suddenly in his lap, on his back, looking right up at Daruk. Daruk grinned, giving a shake of his head.

“I mean...can you keep a secret?”

“Course, course! Unless you include my diary. I tell my diary everything.”

“Fair enough. Uh, yeah. Urbosa. I REALLY like Urbosa.”

“URBOSA? Really?”

Daruk nodded, digging into his ear in hopes of getting water out of it.

“Yeah. She’s super strong, she’s smart, she’s fearless, we’ve known each other for a LONG time.”

“So what’s stopping you? You two fight well together, I’d say that’s just as good of a date.”

Daruk shrugged, lifting his arm up to even dry his armpits. Not that Kohga was looking.

“I dunno. Feel like she’d be interested in some other guy. Feels like she’d like someone like Kass. You know, romantic like. I dunno the first thing about girls, much less a woman like her.”

“What is there to know? Women just like a guy who tries.”

“...really?”

“I actually don’t know, I’m gay as shit.”

Daruk sighed a bit, actually feeling a twinge of hope for a second. He seemed to have finished with the towel, wiping his hands, mainly as a means to do something with his sudden bout of nervous energy.

“I dunno. I guess it’s not something that’s gonna happen. Which is fine, I appreciate just knowing her. She deserved better anyway, what’s she want from someone who can’t woo her?”

Kohga shouldn’t be thinking what he was thinking. But Daruk was so vulnerable. So easily persuaded. Big, cute, eager to know how to love. Not to mention being locked in a room with him, all alone. A nice prey for a predator like himself. He sat up, trying not to grin too much.

“I can teach you.”

“What?”

Daruk clearly was confused. But that’s exactly what Kohga was hoping for.

“I’m not like Urbosa, but I know her VERY well. We’ve been fighting for a long, long time, you get to know someone pretty damn well. So, why don’t you try some stuff on me?”

“Uh…”

“What? Don’t do dudes?”

“No, it’s not that, I’ve been with guys before. It’s just...didn’t expect this, I guess?”

“That’s what love is! Spontaneous stuff! Full of surprises! I’m gay, but I know that’s ONE thing girls love. Plus, when has Urbosa ever shied away from any inconvenience, including in the battlefield?”

Daruk thought about it, and as Kohga suspected, it worked. He rubbed his head for a second, before nodding.

“I mean...kinda makes sense, actually.”

Kohga held onto his face, giving it a light squish.

“Of course I make sense! I’m THE Master Kohga! I’ll even be a nice guy and help you get started.”

Daruk seemed surprised by the way Kohga pushed him flat on his back (the power of cock made Kohga a VERY strong man), and crawled down to...whatever the hell it is that Gorons wore. Kohga always called it a thong, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t the official name for the garment. Either way, he pulled it away, and nearly choked on air. Holy. Fucking. Shit. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it sure as shit wasn’t this goddamn lynel crusher of a dick. It was huge, scaley (Gorons were more or less rock creatures with some parts of lizards), and as Kohga cupped it in his palm, he realized it wasn’t even hard. It was this big, as it was SOFT. The rather coarse texture was because of big, thick scales it was covered in. Daruk sat there for a moment, clearly confused as to why Kohga was just sitting there, gawking at him like that.

“I uh...you okay-”

“I’m JUST now figuring out you’re hung like a Lynel, I’m VERY okay.”

Don’t get Kohga wrong, this guy was a goddamn BEAST, but Kohga liked a big, thick challenge. Daruk was about to speak, clearly about to tell him he could call this off, but then he felt Kohga’s hand slide down his girth. Now that he actually touched it like this, he realized it wasn’t exactly rough as he thought, as it seemed to bend with a firm hold. Good, so it wouldn’t be like fucking a giant pinecone, but rather a cock with thick ridges. Yeah, he could work with this. Daruk chuckled, combing his hands through his messy hair.

“You uh...done this before, I take it?”

“Not with a Goron, but definitely done it before. Sneaking guys into stable rooms and getting my fill is...a hobby of mine, guess you could say. You’re not used to this though, you’re really liking how I’m holding you.”

“You have REALLY soft hands.”

“Funny, been told that a lot.”

Kohga chuckled. It was nice, getting to feel something bigger than his entire arm in his hand. The way it seemed to radiate heat, the way the flesh started to get harder as his hand roamed up nice and down. Kohga’s hand roamed, trying to find just what he liked, when he noticed just the spot close to the head. It made Daruk grunt a bit, and from a Goron, that was just as good as a moan.

“You’re REALLY good at finding that spot, Kohga.”

“Thank you. It helps that you aren’t fighting me on this.”

“Why would I? We both agreed to this, and this is...for Urbosa, right?”

“For who?”

“Urbosa.”

“Ah, right right right. Yes, totally for her.”

Daruk opened his mouth to ask of his true intentions, when he realized that wasn't very important, given the fact that Kohga's mouth wrapped itself around the head. Kohga’s soft lips never failed to make any cock feel good, and Daruk's was no exception. Kohga knew he couldn't swallow the whole thing (least not without some practice), but that didn't mean anything when you sucked as good as he did. He took a decent amount of him, and he felt Daruk get into it, so far as to put his hand on his head, gently prompting to take him further. If Kohga couldn’t breathe, he could stay down here all damn day. Unfortunately, air was a thing, so he had to pull away, softly gasping as drool still connected his mouth to his cock. Daruk lightly poked him in the shoulder.

"Sorry, I push too hard?"

Kohga shook his head, grinning as he used his hand to spread his spit along his cock.

"No, not at all. You're a big guy Daruk, but don't treat me so delicately. I can handle you, in the battlefield, and in the bedroom."

"Please don't tell me that means you're gonna take me without lube."

"Oh dear god no. I'm brave, but that'd be a suicide mission."

Kohga sat up, and dug into his inventory, pulling out a bottle of lube. Daruk gestured to it as he tried to catch his breath. Poor Daruk was holding himself pretty well up until now. Big, strong man he was. He removed his clothes (nothing more than needed of course), and was about to do some self prep, really put on a show, when suddenly Daruk pinned him down on his back, big, heavy palm on his chest.

"Hey, let me handle that. You shouldn't be doing all that work."

"I'd say 'fuck you, I do things how I want', but I do like doing no work. Almost gentlemanly, big and brawn. "

"Women like that stuff, right?"

"Course! Granted Urbosa is clearly not someone to flop over, but she's gotta appreciate you offering to do most of the...handiwork. I mean I know I do."

Kohga chuckled. He wasn’t Sooga by any means, but he was a big, handsome meathead. Most Gorons were. Full of gusto and big, stupid muscle. Was it any wonder Kohga had SUCH a crush on their species? It helped that Daruk wasn’t a total newbie about this, and didn't seem to be shy at all. Caring, but not shy. He lubed up his big, strong hands, and lathered up Kohga’s ass and legs, really getting him comfortable to his touch. Goron’s hands were...hot. Kohga was damn near swooning.

"You're gonna tell me if it hurts, right?"

"Pfft. If I didn't like it, trust me, you'd be on the floor."

"You wanna bet, boss man?"

Oh. Oh the way Daruk grabbed his ass as he said that. The way he leaned into him, looking at him with big, challenging eyes. The way he SAID that nickname. It took so much of Kohga not to just melt like butter, and giggle like a bunch of giddy school girls. Kohga may be a top, but if a man was big enough, strong enough, COCKY enough, that could change in an absolute flash. He gulped, forcing his inner whore to keep his composure. Even as Daruk dug a big, oiled finger inside of him, Kohga forced himself to keep his composure.

"Yeah, I do mean it. Bigger doesn't mean stronger. You wanna see it, I'm down."

"Ha! You got attitude, just like she does. Maybe this IS good practice."

"Practice my ass. No seriously, push it further, I can take it."

Daruk didn't seem convinced, but he was at LEAST smart enough to do as he said, and shoved his finger well knuckle deep. It made Kohga tremble a bit from it's size. It was so nice, so big, so slow and steady, Kohga knew he could cum with this, if given enough time. But he wanted more. He wanted to get fucking DESTROYED by that giant weapon on his. Daruk seemed to take the hint, and taunted Kohga's hole with another finger.

"Let's make a deal. If you can handle two fingers, right to the knuckle, we’ll do the real deal.”

“I could handle your whole fist if I wanted to!”

“You wanna bet?”

Daruk made the motion to move further when Kohga panicked, holding his hands out to stop him, and yelling at him to NOT. Don’t get Kohga wrong, he loved a good fisting, he just didn’t like it with a side of death. Daruk threw his head back in laughter, clearly he was kidding.

“I was just calling on your bluff, boss man! You’re fun to mess with. Sooga treats you like this, don’t he?”

Kohga was about to bark at him for talking to him like that, when Daruk introduced a second finger, and god dammit did it kill Kohga. A damn, good stretch, no hesitation on his end. He swore a bit under his breath, before shaking his head.

“I treat HIM like this. I’m much better with my hands. And he usually respects me enough to NOT talk back to me.”

“But you kinda like it. I can tell, because you aren’t stopping me.”

Kohga wanted to have a good comeback for that, but YOU try having something to say when fingers that big were pumping into your oiled up ass. Kohga stammered for a response, before he resorted to punching his shoulder.

“God just shut up and fuck me, rock man.”

Daruk wanted to keep using his fingers, but something told him that if he kept delaying it, Kohga was going to just kill him. So he slowly pulled his fingers out, before grabbing a hold of his thighs, and yanked him closer, till his own dick was brushed up against him. Suffice to say, Kohga was a BIT intimidated. His grip on Kohga was tight as he leaned down to his face.

“I can usually tell by someone’s face if they don’t want this. But uh...with the mask and all, I gotta ask, you sure you wanna do this? We can stop, or do something else. I don’t mind doing something...safer, I guess. No shame if you wanna back out.”

Kohga was distracted for a second. The thing was huge, and it was right up against his stomach. He could feel it, hot and thick against him. He wanted it, and he wanted it BAD. Kohga grabbed him by his stupid blue sash thing, and pulled, wanting to show just how serious he was.

“Fuck. Me. Daruk.”

That was as much of a sign as any. Daruk was so easy on those he found who needed a delicate touch, but if they wanted to go all out against him, he was NOT one to hold back. So he pushed his tip against him, before finally going inside of him. Kohga’s extra hand dug into the sheets. Now don’t get him wrong, he’s had some pretty damn good cock, but this? JUST having the tip in? Kohga already wanted to cum. It stretched his ass, and holy shit did Kohga love it. So much so, he was JUST now noticing Daruk was snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“You okay? You weren’t saying anything, thought I broke you.”

“I’m good. SO good, honestly. You could do more, a LOT more, half at least.”

Daruk learned quickly it seemed, choosing not to question him, and slowly, ever so slowly, started to push more into him. Daruk had one hand onto the wall, the other was used to hold Kohga down, as if he was worried Kohga would run from him. Kohga stayed right there, drooling right behind his mask. Daruk was being careful, but wasn’t sweet. His cock was filling him up, stretching him. As if that wasn’t enough, Daruk was letting him run his hand through that absolute mane of hair. So soft, so warm, it somehow made his cock twitch even harder. But that was nothing compared to how well it felt, having HALF of him inside. Daruk moved his hand right to ass, helping himself to a nice, big handful of Kohga’s absolute dump truck of an ass. No permission, no shyness. Just a big, hot hand. Holy shit.

“Gotta give you credit, you’re handling yourself pretty damn well. I’d ask if you were liking it, but uh, something tells me you are.”

Daruk’s stomach pressed up against his dick, and it was SO close to being enough to make him cum. Kohga prided himself in stamina, but dammit he wanted to bust one here and now. Kohga swallowed, somehow finding his voice as he panted something fierce.

“Y-yeah. I am. Don’t get cocky though, I can outlast you.”

“You wanna bet, bossman?”

Daruk was putting his full weight on him, really pushing himself against him, and holy fuck Kohga was so close that time. But that big, stupid face on Daruk forced him to not cum.

“Yeah. You wanna act smug, let’s bet. If YOU cum first, you gotta ask Urbosa out on a date.”

Daruk’s smirk shrunk a bit, definitely not liking that idea. His brows furrowed in determination.

“Alright. If I win, YOU gotta give Sooga a romantic date. No work on his end.”

Neither wanted to do either of these things, but both knew one of them HAD to be done. So, they both nodded in silent agreement. And that’s when things got crazy. The idea of a contest ignited that Goron fire in him, and Daruk started to finally move. Not just move, but actual rough, rhythmic thrusts, right into Kohga’s ass, He never went anymore than halfway into him, but that was more than enough for Kohga’s greedy ass. Daruk’s cock was not only big, not only thick, but those scales seemed to just brush against every sensitive little part of him. Kohga, in the midst of getting his ass PLOWED into, made the mental note to get a dildo that was JUST like the cock he was getting right now. Kohga thought he was doomed. But then he saw Daruk’s face.

Daruk was panting, he was groaning, he looked like he hadn’t gotten a piece of ass in a long, long time. Then Kohga recalled; HE was the top. He was going to MAKE Daruk lose this bet, even if it killed him. Despite the fact that his ass was being stretched to the size of a goddamn manhole, he dug his hand in that big mess of chest hair, and pulled. Just like Sooga’s long hair, Daruk liked his being pulled, forcing him to rest his forehead against his fist as he tried to pick up his pace. Daruk wasn’t faring too well, and it gave Kohga a fuck ton of confidence.

“You’re gonna fucking lose. You’re gonna lose because you LIKE fucking up my ass. You got a smart mouth, and nice, big hands, with lots of pretty hair. But you just can’t hold yourself when it comes to fucking a body like mine. You JUST started to plow me, and you’re already twitching.”

Kohga gave his chest hair another sharp pull, making him groan loudly at the firm grip from the otherwise soft, delicate hands.

“AND you even like your hair being pulled. You act like you’re rough and rowdy, but you really just like a nice, plump ass to stick that monster cock into. And it’s gonna feel even better when you FUCKING cum in it. Go on, give me that fucking Goron cum.”

Kohga had a way with words. Had a way with his greedy hands and plump ass. Such a way, that Daruk came. He came, with a loud, shameless growl in his voice. Immediately Kohga felt his ass stuffed in cum. However, given the fact that it was occupied with damn near a whole foot of Goron cock, it spilled down his ass, and into the bed below. Kohga was grateful for it, and used the chance to pump his own cock. It helped that Goron cum felt...different from normal cum. It felt much thicker, much HOTTER than usual cum. It didn’t burn, but holy hell did it feel good to have it shoved in his insides. Not to mention him cumming right after, being full of so much big, sexy Goron, felt SO much better than any personal wank session. He didn’t even care that he came, all over his chest, and even his own mask. It was a good, hard, fast fuck that Kohga wanted, and deserved.

They sat there for a moment, bathed in sweat and cum. Kohga couldn’t remember when he last felt so full, and Daruk couldn’t remember when he last felt so empty. Kohga chuckled, leaning up a bit to poke Daruk on the forehead.

“I win. YOU gotta ask Urbosa out now!”

Daruk groaned, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.

“I...guess you’re right. A bet is a bet, boss man. Can’t believe you beat me to the punch.”

Kohga folded his arms over his chest, smug as could be.

“Course I did! I’m THE Master Kohga! Now, help me get out of bed. I feel absolutely NOTHING below the waist.”

#asks #kohga #daruk #lemon #lesson of the day; kohga is not shy of any dick #and he REALLY liked gorons #especially ones with a lot of hair and attitude #kohga and sooga went to goron city ONCE #kohga would not leave anyone alone #literally ever since Kohga was a young man he found gorons SO cute

14 notes · View notes

land-of-classpects-and-analysis · 4 years

Text

Mage of Void

There are plenty of people out there who fear the unknown. Whether it be what lurks in the shadows or the brush, what truly exists out in the vast, ever-expanding depths of space, or something as simple as not knowing the secrets that lurk within the basement of that sweet-looking antique shop that all of a sudden popped up in your town, run by a sweet little old lady who always seems to have a bit of cobweb in her gray hair. You don’t know if you want to ever find out where she came from nor what secrets she keeps stowed away in that basement, which she so often ventures into when she needs to “fetch something from the back”, but whenever you watch her open that door and shuffle herself down the stairs, your mind begins to whir awake with words that paint the blank canvases in your mind. Ranging from the mundane image of a dingy old basement, filled with old, rotten wooden shelves - which really should have broken years ago - with brown, cardboard boxes piling up and filled the space, to the more dark and morbid possibilities. A flickering light bulb that hangs from a string, with a chain of beads waiting to be tugged so that the light may breathe once again and illuminate the horrors beneath. A surgery table, the typical metallic ones, with drenched, yet dry, tools next to it, and a person laying conscious atop that cold slab that will surely soon become their deathbed. A creature, or two, that hates the sunlight and so resides in the depths of the basement - perhaps even the vents - though you aren’t sure how it could fit all of those heads and arms and legs into such a tight space. But it could, if it truly wanted to hunt and stalk its prey before telling its owner, who is such a sweet old lady, “that one”. You don’t know what is in the basement, and it would be smart to say you don’t want to. A reasonable person would say that, but if you are not part of that group who would say no, then you may find yourself to be drawn towards the title of Mage of Void.

Those bound to the Aspect of Void do not fear what has yet to be explored, discovered, or established. They only see a possibility for something grand, new, and beautiful to be created where emptiness asks to be filled. While they may not fear it, the Void-bound do have a great disdain for intellectual authority, and often throw countless doubts on what others believe to be official truths. Most importantly, though, especially in the case of the Mage of Void, is that they are the universe’s secret keepers. The Mage of Void, much like its passive counterpart, is another interesting case when it comes to the Class and Aspect clashing together. However, while the Seer of Void was one who many people passively entrusted with their secrets, the Mage of Void is one who could easily be described as a morally gray person from the get-go. They hunger over secrets, lusting to gain more knowledge over the unknown and the secrets of everyone and everything around them. For some, this may sound more befitting for a Mage of Light, but do not be fooled. The Mage of Void does not do these things to gain answers, because the Mage of Void does not have any questions. They simply enjoy the feeling of power that comes from knowing something no one else does - whether it be the dark, forbidden history of a building or organization, or the secrets of all the affairs their boss has had. If there is an inkling of a secret to be found, it’s only a matter of time before the Mage of Void springs into action and chases after it, much like a predator with their prey.

However, this is getting quite a bit ahead of ourselves. What about the beginning of the Mage of Void’s journey? Specifically, what sparked this deep, never ending hunger for secrets? Much like the Mage of Blood, this fascination most likely started when they were quite young. Children are naturally curious, after all, but sometimes are curious for the wrong things. The Mage of Void was most likely the one who always wanted to be places where they shouldn’t have been i.e. their parent’s room without explicit permission or observation, the Janitor’s closet at school, the storage rooms in a grocery store, and so on. If there was a sign telling the Mage of Void to not enter a room, then chances are that they would proudly proclaim that the sign can’t stop them, because they can’t read. This would be when they were a child, after all. Keeping in mind that a Mage often begins their journey with a punch to the face and gut, the Mage of Void would most likely be met with a secret that horrified, scarred, and perhaps even traumatized them, but it would also intrigue them. They don’t try to hold onto these secrets for any malicious and harmful reasoning like that of a Thief, but it is undeniable that the Mage of Void feels a sense of superiority to those who don’t know the real truth of the world they live in.

From that point onward, though, the Mage of Void would slowly become more and more aware of the secrets all around them. There are some that, at least in the beginning, the Mage of Void would not dare go near for one reason or another. Down the line of their journey, though, there will always be some secrets that simply will not leave the Mage of Void alone. Constantly calling their name; luring them closer to discovering another horrific piece of information that very few get to see. These secrets are typically ones that personally affect the Mage of Void, and as such, it is oftentimes a rather difficult challenge for them to face these harsh truths. These secrets are ones the Mage of Void tend to struggle with accepting the most, because to accept it would mean allowing their sense of reality to falter, change, and perhaps even have the foundations crack beneath them. At first, these sudden changes may be terrifying to the Mage of Void, especially if these changes are so near and dear to their heart. Finding out that the dark secrets of a close friend or family member can bring great stress onto most people, and while some have the choice to not acknowledge it, the Mage of Void is not one of those people. They must face the unknown head-on if they so wish to complete their journey.

However, as stated before, do not mistake this behavior for someone bound to the Aspect of Light. The Mage of Void only cares to learn about the unknown; what lurks in the shadows, goes bump in the night, and what hides beneath the bed. They find solace in their suffering for this knowledge, because, much like many other Void-bound, the Mage of Void believes their perception of reality to be the clearest one. When there is a crack in the sidewalk, it is not the light that slithers all the way down that rocky and concrete chasm, for the light can only go so far. When the light cannot reach any further, that is when some people simply shrug and say that everything this crack has to offer has been revealed. The Mage of Void knows, though, that past the point of light within that crack is a world that goes far, far deeper and darker, for it is not the ant colony that lives in the scorching sunlight, but rather in the dark and hidden tunnels beneath the Earth. When there is shadow cast by the piercing rays of Light, the Mage of Void will do whatever is in their power to discover and know what horrid things lurk within the inky darkness of that shadow - big and small - while ignoring everything so blatantly illuminated by the Light.

The Mage of Void is one who often walks a fine line of being that of a social genius - capable of seeing all the secrets and lies created by people, if they so want, as well as witnessing all the hidden injustice woven in the world around them - and succumbing to the endless, existential expanse of Void itself - their mind becoming nothing but an dark ocean of ink, their head heavy from wearing a crown that is more jewels than actual crown, with each jewel being a secret the Mage of Void has learned. After all, what’s the point of seeing what the world, what reality, is truly like if no one will bother to listen? They have all of these secrets, all of this forbidden knowledge that they perceive to be the truth of all that is, was and will be, but when no one wishes to revel in the same ecstasy that comes with this superiority, it becomes a burdernous weight that not many people can bear. The Mage of Void suffers because, outside of fellow Void-bound, no one will listen to them.

While some of the other Mages naturally attract people to them, the Mage of Void is one who very few people would take note of. After all, Void-bound are often those who are easily missed when looking through a crowd of people, whether it be by the Void-bound’s choice or not. In a way, it would be up to the Mage of Void to approach other people and try to win them over as a companion. Although, when considering how Mages can often be quite erratic in their behavior, this can be quite a difficult task. The Mage of Void would only ever want to surround themself with people they deem as “woke” as them, as they have no patience in educating other people on what they have already experienced and learned. Chances are that the Mage of Void is one who lives a rather lonely life - not that they will ever care to admit as to how deeply it affects them. After all, even one who chases after the greatest secrets is bound to have their own. If the Mage of Void is not careful, and if no one has shown up to their Tea Party in Wonderland, then they might allow themself to become more further enveloped by the shadows that come with the Void. If questioned about how this affects them, the Mage of Void may either passively shrug and say they do not mind, as being alone only means they have more time to themself and their discoveries, or they may react harshly, snapping and insisting that it’s fine, that they’re fine, that the loneliness they feel is no big deal at all. In some cases, though, it is indeed the own Mage’s fault that they are left alone and to their own devices.

Although this analysis has mostly been for the Mages of Void who search for knowledge of Void, there are, of course, those who wish to seek knowledge through Void. One may think that this branch of the Mage’s journey is similar to the former. After all, becoming more aware of the secrets around oneself can’t be too different to becoming more aware due to the secrets around oneself, right? That is only partially true, but let’s explore why that is partially wrong. For the Mages who so choose to seek out knowledge through Void are, of course, those who have the harder journey ahead of them. While the Mages who seek out knowledge of Void simply dash into the unknown and darkness, the Mages who seek out knowledge through Void must first allow themselves to become fully engrossed in their Aspect. They must allow the bitter cold to nip and claw at their mind. These Mages of Void are ones who have already become part of the infinite, pure black of the void. They have gazed into it and have felt not one, not two, but millions of eyes of old, forgotten things staring right back at them. Sizing them up, judging them based on their own secret sins, questioning if they are truly worthy to gain such knowledge and wisdom. The Mage does not chase after the Void, but the Void chases after them.

What the Mage does not realize in the beginning, though, is that they have already been caught and ensnared within the claws, teeth, beaks, tendrils of the Void. They have already been caught, and they allowed it to happen. The Void, as cold and distant and suffocating as it may be, is not here to bring about the end of the Mage’s life, though. With a price that only ever seems to go up, and up, and up, the Mage of Void may learn all the secrets the Void itself has to offer. It can not give all the answers, for it does not know many to begin with, but it can give a tool far more powerful to the little Mage: things long forgotten or hidden deep within the minds and hearts of those around them. For with these secrets the Void has given to the Mage, they may use them to twist the arms of whoever they want and bend the rules of wherever they go, but only so that they may get the true knowledge the Mage of Void so deeply hungers after. They are not as nasty or manipulative as a Witch of Void may be, but they most definitely are someone who knows how to get answers when they want them. After all, they may not want all the answers, but simply having the knowledge that they could make anyone fold and buckle with the threat of such secrets getting out is sometimes enough to satisfy the Mage of Void. At least to those who so choose to chase after knowledge through Void.

The Mage of Void walks a fine-line indeed, but it is a line, or rather a tight-rope, that they love oh so much. They think themself to be one of the bravest souls in the world to walk a line so taut, thin, and fine. Even if they fall, they know that they will fall like a true hero, for not many others are courageous enough to dare attempt such a challenge. However, once they reach the other side and have experienced the worst of what their Aspect has to offer, the Mage of Void is most certainly someone not meant to be trifled with. With one simple glance, an awakened and well-minded Mage of Void could know every last secret that someone so desperately wishes to hide, but only if they want to. Not only that, but they could so easily see all the loopholes and weak points of anything they so wished to target. Whether it be a single person, a group, organization, or perhaps even an entire system of government, all it would take is the will and mind of the Mage of Void to find the Achilles’s Heel of those who stand in their way. While they may not have many friends, on purpose or otherwise, those they do allow into their inner circle are those they trust the most out of the entire world. After all, it’s hard to trust many people when given the power to know everyone’s past mistakes, losses, and overall secrets. The Mage of Void may still feel that suffocating weight of the void atop of them, but when they have fully awakened and completed their journey, they are willing to bear that weight if it means not living in a false understanding of the world around them and instead becoming one of the most elusive and daunting people in their group. After all, the Mage of Void has nothing to fear - not even the unknown, or void itself.

#Mage #Mage of Void #Homestuck #Hiveswap #Mage of Void Analysis #Void Aspect #Oculus October #Void

38 notes · View notes

chainrattle · 3 years

Text

info on seven/rk under the cut !

pre-maw ( arc zero ) ; the runaway kid wasn't always some nameless face trapped within the depths of the maw ; like any child, he came from a family. a beloved child of one to a perfectly normal grandfather and grandmother. his parents whereabouts didn't bother him, since the devoted care of his grandparents was enough. during his childhood he was spoiled rotten, lavished with gifts due to being the only child. one tragic day, however, changed everything when his grandmother passed away due to unknown causes. despite the horrors of the world, outside their little ranch far away from cities and boats, his grandfather went out to bury his wife where she had asked to be buried.

left all alone, the boy waited for a total of a week before he set off to find his elder. a mistake on his part. while searching desperately for his remaining family, the boy was attacked— someone aimed a hit on his head that knocked him out cold. a swelling bump, oozing of blood, now on his head. this hit made him remember little of his past when he finally awoke on the maw. the images of his family now hazy faces that only became more distorted by the day. while he has no clue who gave him his head injury, it certainly caused escaping the maw to be harder.

( in later loops, the head wound heals and becomes less of a injury— making it easier. but there is still a scar on his head from it )

canon ' the maw ' ( arc one ) ; everything that takes place here is when the runaway boy is within the metal walls of the maw. the sequence of events follows canon closely, with him waking up in the children's room and escaping his prison— roaming the depths and killing the granny with his quick thinking. he's captured by the janitor and briefly encounters the feared heroine six before taken away to be moved to the kitchen. an attempt he easily escapes, though he falls once more back to the bottom. calling upon the nomes to help him, rk finds solace in his only friends when they get the furnace ( or known as the 'heart' of the maw ) started. when he escapes through an elevator, the lady is below him.

finally, the boy is in the lady's quarters. where he fends off from shadow kids with his flashlight and finds the statues needed to escape. he makes the fatal mistake of catching the lady staring at her reflection, however, and this proves to be his end. the moment she catches him, she twists him into a nome and he's destined to waddle off, becoming six's meal like the loop wants him to be.

canon divergent maw. in most threads, the story will become canon divergent as the boy interacts with others aboard the maw ; be it monsters or children. sometimes he will meet the same fate despite his partnerships ; becoming a nome for six to eat. sometimes six doesn't eat him. sometimes the boy in blue actually escapes, or the lady kills him where he stands. these different scenarios occur after the first loop, where stuff starts to alter— slowly, but surely.

canon divergent ' pale city ' ( arc two ) ; entering pale city only occurs if he escapes the maw, be it alone or with a partner. either way, seven ( a name he earned on the maw that he heard whispered about ) typically ends up separated ; isolated and alone in a foreign city. in most loops, it's rare he encounters the hunter considering he starts in pale city— but there have been a few times where he travels to that location and gets caught himself. a consistency, however, is that the boy stumbles upon the school quickly. with a hunger for company, he's easy prey for the bullies. while entering the building, he's relentlessly pranked, harassed, and physically harmed— but he pushes on.

not a solid choice to make considering his persistence and cowardice nature ( he can't bring himself to hurt other children ) is what makes the bullies want to keep him. brought to the teacher, seven is forced to stay. it takes five to six weeks for him to finally wiggle his way out of his hell ; be it alone or because of the help of another. with new scars to carry he keeps off the grid for a good while, avoiding big buildings like the hospital until he needs to treat some festering wounds.

by the time he gets to the doctor's in most loops, six and mono have already taken care of him ( or they're currently in the building when he arrives ) and he's free to only deal with the mannequins. but for the most part, he's in and out fast. being sneaky and cautious makes the hospital scene a little easier for him to handle. there's nothing significant in the building for him, though he does linger in the room with all those markings for the longest time.

in most scenarios, it's rare for seven to make it to the tower or lay eyes on the thin man. by the time he's in the streets again, six has usually dropped mono and repeated the cycle. which results in seven dying from the viewers so he can start back in the maw with six. seven is only freed from the loop when it's broken by six and mono ; forcing him to rely on others for his own fate ( and how messed up is that? )

more canon divergent pale city. when seven's in pale city, a lot of things aren't consistent due to the fact he isn't supposed to make it this far. sometimes he sticks with a partner the whole time, other times he's alone the whole way through. occasionally he sticks with mono and six until after the doctor's area ; typically dying in the collapsing building or, if he's lucky, at the hands of monster six ( again, he dies if the loop is to restart, he can never make it to the end with mono and six unless the loop is going to be broken ).

DUE TO THE LOOP in general, and due to seven mattering little in the grand scheme of things ; there's only some consistencies. his past always remains the same, he's always given the head injury, he awakes on the maw first, kills the granny, and is gifted the companionship of the nomes. sometimes the lady kills him, sometimes she turns him into the very thing he loves so much, and sometimes six eats him. the only thing that remains the same in every loop in pale city is seven being trapped in the school ; everything else changes for the most part.

› › » › ›

seven & six ; a friendship that forms despite it all! his fate is intertwined with six's, being the nome she eats when she's at her starving point. but there's more to them than that— with seven seeing bright yellow and feeling familiarity swirl in his chest. she reminds him of the horrors within the maw, yet six also makes him think of doing the impossible. out of all his companions, six is the one he will have always known the longest— even if he's only known her at a glance before. though it's true that the girl's powers scare him, make him debate her morals even, this doesn't stop the runaway from loving six. he can't quite get pass her powers, or ( if he learns ) the fact she ate him, but he can love her despite it. and he always does. for her sake, he even keeps his feelings on her supernatural aspect quite so he doesn't make her feel bad. also, she's a comfort to him due to their shared experiences in the maw— something that they mostly share alone.

seven & mono ; an unlikely bond that should've never formed ( in the loop's eyes ) but it blooms nonetheless. seven's never hung out with many boys before, so he's very shy and nervous around mono upon first meeting him. his typical cold behavior melts fast as he feels the pathetic urge to impress mono, though he tries to hide this well. they both typically have fun swapping stories about six, both viewing her in a slightly different light— which makes it even more fun to discuss. at first that's all they seem to have to talk about ; six this, six that! seven clings to this conversation topic because he wants to keep talking to mono, but they settle into other topics eventually. forming their own experiences together ( like saving six perhaps ) helps make their bond separate from their one with six. of course, like with their mutual friend, seven is uncomfortable by mono's powers— and would definitely be disgusted by the fact mono becomes the thin man. however, he keeps this to himself again. trying to get over his issues with mono during his own time since he really does like him.

seven & five ; five is the kid that seven never feels threatened by, or envious of. she seems to love the nomes just as much as he does, which is something that will tie him to any child, but she also doesn't have powers ; like mono and six have. that fact comforts him in her presence, knowing that she's ordinary just like him. she made it this far by survival skills alone and he's impressed by this fact, along with being taken with her humourous and determined nature. all in all, the boy quickly relates to her and lets five in, her presence lightening the burden on his shoulders. she makes him laugh and smile harder than most and he quite likes their history with water. these two have a lot of things that glue them together, relating in ways seven can't with most of the other kids.

seven & the nomes ; with little rememberance of his actual family, the nomes have fit together to make him a new one. there's a sense of belonging that tugs him to the nomes, feeling understood and seen by the peculiar creatures. the nomes understand what its like to fail, to never be able to taste the fresh air of new lands. seven sees himself in each of them and, despite the nomes usually not being in any real danger, the boy is fiercely protective of his new family. they know his every thought, constantly spilling his deepest thoughts and secrets to them because it's easier when he knows the nomes can't tell anyone. there's lots of trust in this dynamic, and seven sees himself as one of the nomes.

#* ooc › loitering in my cage #listen i know the 'explaining the loop' part is SUPER MESSY just leave me be #i dont understand the loop and its very hard to make it work for seven so just pretend i like #know what im talking about #basically. seven's fate relies on six and mono. if six lets mono go? sevens gonna die bc he usually needs to be there for six in the maw #im sorry for all the errors this is a bitch to edit so ill just do it later LOL #as for the relationships!!! they can have changes in them obviously. i simply made a base for seven to go off of #ANYWAY!!! this is just my initial thoughts for seven and all that #these might all change in the future !!! this is like...a draft for his bio if anything

6 notes · View notes

twilights-800-cats · 3 years

Text

<< Allegiances || Chapter 18 || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 19

Feathertail shook her muzzle as a tiny white flake tickled her whiskers. She looked up and, frowning, realized that the sky had turned a pale gray. Frozen-water is here, she thought. The Tribe cats had said that the cold and snow often came far sooner in the mountains than it did in the land below.

She looked back at the others. None of them seemed enthused about the idea of snow – they had been walking non-stop since leaving the Tribe’s territory, with heads down and moods sullen and hardly a word spoken beyond necessity.

Feathertail turned her attention to their surroundings. The land was sloping downward, the rocks and crags growing farther and farther apart as the level earth below got closer and closer. They weren’t too far away from the edge of Tribe territory – at a sprint they could make it back before evening – but their patrols weren’t likely to follow them here. Feathertail guessed that, if they kept walking, they’d make it to the forest within a few days. But that means leaving Stormfur behind.

Her eye caught on an outcropping of rock that rose over the slanting ground, forming a deep cave with the stone around it. She pointed there with her tail. “Shelter,” she said.

Mistyfoot came to her side, narrowing her eyes at the cave. “It will have to do,” she decided. “Thank you, Feathertail.” The ThunderClan she-cat headed for the rocks, her tail raised for the others to follow.

Feathertail nodded. She opened her jaws to scent the area, but found nothing threatening within the vicinity. With a quick glance at the sky for hawks or eagles, she followed the others into the cave.

It was cool but dry inside, and spacious enough for each cat to stretch and rest their weary paws. Feathertail was grateful for the break, sitting down to lap at her sore pads. Outside, the snow was beginning to fall more quickly – they’d found shelter just in time, and Feathertail reasoned they could do worse than this cave for waiting out a snowstorm.

“I’m starving,” Crowpaw complained.

“Same here,” sighed Nightpaw. He lifted up one of his paws for Shadepaw to examine. “My paws are falling off!”

“Not quite yet,” Shadepaw pointed out, her voice quiet. She gave his paw a lick. “But your pads are all gritty.”

Nightpaw sighed and settled down to clean his paws. Stoneheart raised his head, frowning as he looked over the others. His eyes rested on Mistyfoot, who was grooming her tail. “This seems like a good spot to make our plans,” he meowed.

“We’ll plan better with full bellies,” Mistyfoot responded.

“I’ll go,” Feathertail offered.

She blinked, surprised at the looks the others were giving her. Had she been too hasty to offer? Was she imagining the spark of uncertainty in their gazes? Feathertail swallowed. She had to be making it up – Crowpaw’s comments earlier were just getting under her fur.

“Go on,” Mistyfoot meowed. “But be quick, and stay out of the Tribe’s sight.”

“Of course!” Feathertail got to her paws and slipped out of the cave.

She looked over the snow-covered rocks and wondered where the prey might be hiding. Keeping her body low, Feathertail made her way over to one of the boulders sticking out over the earth, clawing her way up to survey the land. There were plenty of bushes and scraggly trees for prey to hide, and the rocks would also provide good shelter for mice or birds. The snow wasn’t falling too hard, not yet, and Feathertail could feel in her fur that only the cold would follow them through the night.

As Feathertail scanned the land, she found herself grateful for the solitude. Without the others staring at her, it seemed like her mind could fully take in what had happened. Guilt pierced her belly, sharp as hunger – I never should have made Stormfur come, she thought. If I had just acted like a warrior instead of a spoiled kit, this never would have happened to him.

She spotted a bird hopping between bushes, looking for any spare berries. Feathertail slid off of the rocks, halting her movements long enough to blend in with the grayness around her. Is it really his destiny to help the Tribe, though? She wondered as she crept closer. Would some force have brought him along, anyway?

As she pounced, she thought of Midnight. It seemed like seasons ago that the she-badger had directed the Clan cats to the mountains in the first place. If she hadn’t said anything, we would have followed Purdy through Twolegplace again. They might have even been back to the Clans by now. Midnight had said destiny was in motion…

Did she know about Sharptooth, and the Tribe? Feathertail lifted her head, the bird caught in her jaws. The smell of fresh-kill flooded her senses. Did she know that they wanted Stormfur?

The possibility unsettled Feathertail. Midnight was a strange enough creature on her own, but she –and the others, likely – had assumed the badger was on their side. Was she really, if she had nudged them into this situation? Is this another test, like the journey itself?

Feathertail’s head was reeling. I might not ever see Midnight again, she thought, so I might never get those answers… She looked up the slope, towards the Tribe’s territory. And I might never see Stormfur again, either, if we don’t act soon…

Refocusing her efforts, Feathertail set down her bird and crouched again, readying herself to leap upon a mouse that was just within range. Her haunches wiggled…

She thought of springing, but the thought never went through her back legs – a weight landed on her back, knocking Feathertail off of her paws and sending her sprawling down the slope.

Blood roared in her ears as Feathertail scrambled to her paws, shock pulsing through her muscles. Eyes wide, she bared her teeth in a snarl, claws unsheathed. What was that? She thought. Sharptooth? The Tribe?

The scent of cat washed over her, and Feathertail caught movement a tail-length away. A gray tabby she-cat was circling her, tail lashing to and fro and eyes flashing with hostility. It wasn’t any Tribe cat that Feathertail recognized, but the strange cat’s build was unmistakable, and beneath the scent of rock and water she did detect the faint musk of the Tribe.

What do I do? She thought, hazarding a glance at the cave. Can they see me?

Feathertail caught more movement in her periphery. Three more cats, all of Tribe origin, were now flanking her – at least two were cave-guards, from their strong shoulders and broad heads. Feathertail swallowed.

They don’t smell like they’ve seen Tribe territory in a moon, she thought. Tribe cats were reluctant to leave their borders, despite being the only cats who hunted in the mountains. What are they doing out here?

One of them, a small brown tom, rammed into her from the side. “Move!” he hissed.

Feathertail hissed back, but complied, finding that the strangers were herding her into the cave where her friends were resting. Bristling with worry for their safety, Feathertail cried, “Look out!”

Eyes flashed in the dark. Stoneheart and Mistyfoot emerged immediately, bristling, with claws unsheathed. The strange cats stopped pushing Feathertail, standing up straight in shock.

“More?!” snapped the gray tabby she-cat. She flashed a look at Feathertail, and then at a big dark tabby tom whose one eye was nearly sealed shut by an old scar. Feathertail could only imagine what had made such a mark. “An ambush from Stoneteller?”

Ambush? Stoneteller?

“They smell of Tribe,” growled the small brown tom at Feathertail’s other side. He lashed his stumpy tail.

Feathertail had a moment to look at her captors more closely. These cats were covered in scars, thinner and hungrier looking than their brethren in Tribe territory. She wondered again what they were doing out here when home and safety lay not far away.

The dark tabby tom narrowed his eyes. “But they do not look Tribe,” he meowed. He raised his tail and, with looks of wary confusion, the other three cats took a step back. “Who are you?”

Mistyfoot did not lower her guard, but she lifted her head. “We are not Tribe,” she insisted. “We were their guests, before we were sent away.”

Feathertail guessed that Mistyfoot wasn’t trying to offend these cats, in case they were itching to bring them back to the Tribe. It seemed as if they didn’t know about the Clan cats or that they had been kicked out, at the very least. Feathertail’s heart pounded harder. Hopefully that was a good thing.

The dark tabby tom’s ears pinned, and his eyes narrowed in thought.

“We need to get inside, Talon,” muttered one of them, a massive dark gray tom. Feathertail thought he might be Boulder’s brother, for how similar they looked. “The cold will claim us, if not Sharptooth.”

Sharptooth… Feathertail shivered. Mistyfoot and Stoneheart exchanged a glance. Maybe they could learn what this Sharptooth was from these cats, if they played their situation right.

Talon, the tabby tom, nodded. “Indeed.” He turned his sharp gaze upon the Clan cats. “We will discuss this further inside the cave.”

Feathertail was pushed forward, into Mistyfoot and Stoneheart. Three of the four Tribe cats formed a line, pressing in towards the entrance of the cave, while another broke off, only to return with a mouthful of fresh-kill hidden in the snow beneath a bush.

The cave was crowded with so many cats. Crowpaw and Nightpaw were bristling as they all came inside, with even Shadepaw’s claws unsheathed – but when they saw that hostilities seemed over, only Crowpaw looked cross at the crowd. They gathered haphazardly around the center of the cave, where the gray tabby she-cat thrust her catch – two rabbits, Feathertail’s bird, and a mouse.

Feathertail felt foolish. She should have scented the faint odor of Tribe in the stone around her. Worrying about Stormfur must have clouded my senses, she thought, shifting on her paws as she pressed herself against the rock to make room. Talon sat beside her and looked over the fresh-kill pile. If this isn’t their permanent spot, they must come here often.

Talon took one of the rabbits and took a bite, passing it to Stoneheart. The ShadowClan tom hesitated, but then took a bite himself. Feathertail sighed. At least they’re willing to show peace, she thought. She took a bite of the rabbit as it was passed to her, and then pushed it on to Mistyfoot.

“So,” Talon meowed, licking his whiskers, “who are you?”

Mistyfoot was busy chewing, so Stoneheart launched into the long explanation of the message from StarClan, the journey to the lake, and their experience in the mountains. Briefly he touched upon the Clans, but most of his speech was focused on their time with the Tribe, and what happened to Stormfur.

Talon’s eyes were wide by the end, and the other Tribe cats looked just as stunned.

“So, you have been exiled as well,” Talon murmured. His expression softened, which was odd to look at with such a grisly scar on his brow. “I am sorry.” All around him, the other Tribe cats relaxed, as if they had found lost kindred.

Feathertail looked up at him. “What happened to you?” she wondered. “Why were you exiled?”

Talon’s eyes darkened. “I am Talon of Swooping Eagle,” he introduced. Feathertail couldn’t help but wince – that name explained quite clearly where the tabby tom had gotten that horrible scar. “These are my companions – Jagged Rock Where Heron Sits, Rock Beneath Still Water, and Bird That Sings At Dusk.” He pointed to the large gray tom, the small brown tom, and the gray tabby she-cat respectively. “We were once part of the Tribe as well.”

“We sought an end to Sharptooth,” Jag meowed, curling his tail over his paws. “Stoneteller sent us to kill the creature before last freed-water…” The big tom frowned, looking down at the tattered fresh-kill before him.

“It was a disaster,” finished Bird. Her eyes turned sorrowful. “We lost two of our group, and it cost Rock his tail. When we returned to the Cave of Rushing Water, Stoneteller exiled us for our failure.”

Rock shifted self-consciously, hiding his stumpy tail from view. “We were declared dead,” he rasped, “and told never to return to Tribe lands. We’ve roamed together ever since.”

Feathertail’s heart ached. “How could Stoneteller do that to you?” she breathed. Stealing Stormfur was one thing – they were strangers - but she hadn’t imagined that the frail old cat could be so cruel to his own Tribemates. Clearly the others thought the same, from their shocked expressions. No Clan leader would react in such a way, that’s for sure!

Bird’s eyes sharpened. “Stoneteller has watched Tribemate after Tribemate die from Sharptooth’s wrath,” she meowed. “It is no shock to us that he has become harsh as a blizzard for it.”

Feathertail swallowed, glancing at the others. He’s desperate, then, she thought. Brook’s eyes, round and pleading for understanding, swam in her vision again. The whole Tribe is.

“What is Sharptooth?” Nightpaw asked, his eyes glowing in the dark. “No one’s told us yet.”

Jag shifted on his paws, his muzzle twitching. Talon seemed apprehensive, glancing at the others. It was Rock who spoke, his lip curled. “It is a Tribe legend, old as the stones of the mountains themselves – long ago, when the Tribe was yet young, before prey-hunter or cave-guard, a Tribe sharpclaw took a patrol into the mountains, seeking food to see the Tribe through a cruel frozen-water.”

Bird took up the story next, her eyes flashing: “That sharpclaw returned, covered in blood, alone. He had killed the rest of his patrol, and their remains were never found – and even when the snows cleared in freed-water the bones were gone. Some say he gave them to the darkness in the mountains, for strength.”

“Regardless, in all our tales darkness changed that sharpclaw,” Talon meowed, his voice low. Feathertail’s spine prickled, as if this story were something she shouldn’t be hearing. “He killed others to gain more power, and eventually he was exiled, swearing revenge on the Tribe for all time.”

“This is true?” Stoneteller wondered. Feathertail envied his composure. Trust a ShadowClan cat to be unafraid of stories like this!

Bird nodded her head. “It is – this Sharptooth, all Sharptooths, are descendants of that sharpclaw, driven to kill us by their bloodline.”

“They are not always a constant threat,” added Jag. “The Tribe of Endless Hunting keeps them at bay – but sometimes a Sharptooth grows strong enough to break through their protection, when darkness ebbs stronger in the world. This one has stalked the Tribe for four mountain seasons, moving closer and closer and picking us off more brazenly as it makes its way to the Cave of Rushing Water.”

Feathertail shivered, pressing close to Mistyfoot. She recalled her hunting expeditions with the Tribe cats and understood now that they had not just been on the lookout for eagles or hawks, but this Sharptooth as well. She thought of the strange, foul scent that had cut short one of the hunting trips, and of how desperate the Tribe cats been to flee to the safety of the Cave.

And then Spray died, she thought. She looked to the others – the same thoughts seemed to be occurring in her friends, a horror spreading from cat to cat. Sharptooth is practically outside the Cave of Rushing Water…

“A prey-hunter was killed close to the Cave,” Mistyfoot reported. “Spray.”

Bird’s eyes grew round, and she buried her muzzle into Jag’s pelt. Rock nudged her sympathetically. Feathertail’s heart ached – these cats had been exiled for moons, how many of their friends had died in that time?

Talon sighed, meowing, “Sharptooth is going to attack the Tribe in the Cave of Rushing Water. We are running out of time.”

Feathertail swallowed. The screams of the Tribe cats echoed in her mind. She could practically smell the blood, see the dead piling up… she could see Brook among them, lifeless and broken. Feathertail couldn’t suppress a whimper at the thought. It was too much to bear.

If it gets in, they’ll all die. Her stomach clenched. There’s nowhere to run in that cave. And Stormfur would die with them.

“I don’t understand!” Crowpaw declared, his eyes wide. “H-How can the Tribe think anyone can handle such a thing, let alone just Stormfur?”

“I do not know,” Jag admitted with a shrug. “Stoneteller is many things, but he is no murderer. Keeping your Clanmate is only guaranteeing their death.”

“Snow wouldn’t allow it, surely,” Bird added. “Even if Stoneteller was lost in grief, she has always seen sense!”

Shadepaw spoke up: “There is more to this than what you all know.”

All eyes turned to Shadepaw. Feathertail blinked at the medicine cat apprentice, recalling that she had seen something in the Cavern of Reflection.

Shadepaw swallowed, gathering herself. “While we were in the Cavern, I heard a prophecy from the Tribe of Endless Hunting - From whence the sun dies comes a storm that will cleanse the Tribe, they said.”

Talon narrowed his eyes, as best as his scar would allow. “And how did you spy upon our ancestors, little one?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

“I am a medicine cat apprentice in the Clans,” Shadepaw explained, raising her chin. “Comparable to a Stonteller’s apprentice. I see the signs from our ancestors, StarClan – but in my defense, I had not intended to spy on your ancestors. I saw what I saw, heard what I heard, and if the Tribe of Endless Hunting did not want me to do either…”

“They would have prevented it,” Rock guessed. He huffed, as if the Tribe of Endless Hunting’s ways were far beyond him.

Shadepaw nodded. She went on: “I saw a massive creature in the water; shaped like a cat but different in little ways. Big shoulders, round ears, massive teeth… There was a storm behind it. Lightning flashed, and the creature was dead, and then your ancestors spoke those words: From whence the sun dies comes a storm that will cleanse the Tribe.”

The cats in the cave went quiet. Feathertail could hear her own heart beating in her ears, and Mistyfoot voiced the realization surely going through every Clan cat’s mind: “We came from the sun-drown place, from where the sun ‘dies.’”

“It really meant Stormfur,” Feathertail murmured, her heart threatening to snap in two. She felt like the world was shaking beneath her, and she dug her claws into the stone to hold herself down.

“That can’t be true!” sputtered Crowpaw, his neck fur bristling even as his eyes were wide in anguish. “Stormfur is a Clan cat – he can’t be part of a Tribe prophecy!” He thrust his narrow muzzle into Shadepaw’s face. “You had to have seen something else!”

Shadepaw pressed her muzzle into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t.”

Crowpaw’s entire body shivered, and he collapsed into Shadepaw.

“The Tribe ancestors sought an outsider to help them,” Stoneheart meowed, his voice low. “Same as StarClan sought an outsider to help our Clans, seasons ago.” His pale blue eyes, normally so level, were shot through with grief and worry.

“Tinystar never had to face a Sharptooth,” Mistyfoot murmured. “And he certainly wasn’t alone.”

Feathertail could hardly keep her vision straight. She buried her head in her paws, images of Stormfur facing Sharptooth playing rapid-fire in her mind. None of them resulted in her littermate standing triumphant over the monster’s body, and she made herself sick thinking of every different way Stormfur would die.

I brought him here to die. Feathertail felt utterly wretched. Oh StarClan, please don’t do this to me! It felt futile to call to her ancestors here, where only the Tribe spirits walked.

“I am sorry,” Talon murmured, looking down at her sympathetically. “The will of our ancestors is, at times, painful.”

“He’s my littermate,” Feathertail snapped back, raising her muzzle in defiance. She was trembling from ears to tail. “He’s my brother! He’s all I have! Your ancestors can’t take him from me, from us!”

Mistyfoot laid her tail along Feathertail’s shoulders, and she sank back down onto her belly. How can she be so calm about this? Feathertail felt anger well up at how collected Mistyfoot seemed – didn’t she love Stormfur at all? But then she felt her friend’s tail tremble, saw her legs shake. She’s trying so hard not to lose it like I am…

“Why are we all assuming Stormfur needs to die?” Feathertail looked up. Nightpaw had stepped forward, his ice-blue eyes flashing like lightning. He swung his muzzle around, staring each cat in the eye. “If Stormfur can’t handle Sharptooth on his own, then I say we help him!”

The Tribe exiles’ eyes flashed in surprise. “You would do that, little one?” Talon mewed, taken aback, “Even if it meant losing your own lives?”

“Stormfur’s fate is not entwined with yours any longer.” Bird pointed out. “Haven’t you your own task to complete?”

Mistyfoot’s eyes were resolute. “We do,” she agreed, “but we got to this point by sticking together – we will leave the same way. Stormfur is one of us, and we are not going to leave him behind.”

The strength, the conviction, the love in Mistyfoot’s words filled Feathertail’s heart. She got to her paws, glancing at the others. Stoneheart was nodding in agreement. Crowpaw had lifted his head, his eyes hard with determination. Shadepaw was flexing her claws, her eyes flickering in thought. Nightpaw raised his tail, nodding at Mistyfoot with admiration in his gaze. They were united, one in their goal to bring back Stormfur.

Like a Clan would be.

“We need a plan,” Nightpaw declared, looking proud of himself.

“Outright battle will get us all killed,” decided Jag.

“Us?” Talon blinked at Jag, whiskers twitching in amusement. “You mean to join them?”

“To save the Tribe? Of course,” Jag insisted. “What sort of life is this out here, away from home and family?”

Talon was quiet, for a moment. Bird and Rock glanced at him, as if his next words would decide their place in this, as well. Feathertail watched him carefully. Having their help would be nothing but a benefit – the more cats to fight Sharptooth the better, and these cats had experience in such an endeavor, even if it had ended in failure.

Finally, Talon decided, “It is no life at all.” He turned his eyes to the Clan cats, resting his gaze on Mistyfoot. “We are with you.”

“We are glad to have you,” Mistyfoot decided.

“Yes!” Nightpaw purred. He bounced on his paws. “Now, about that plan…”

Every cat shut their jaws. Looks of confusion and uncertainty passed over everyone’s face. Feathertail frowned. The unity was great and all, but if they couldn’t come up with a plan it would mean nothing. She wracked her brain – what could they possibly do to harm a Sharptooth? Everything she knew about the creature made it seem invulnerable. She hadn’t the faintest clue.

Shadepaw looked up. “I think I have an idea,” she meowed, her amber eyes bright. “StarClan and the Tribe of Endless Hunting willing, it works…”

#tb au #tb moonrise

8 notes · View notes

sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

My Little Secret: The Beginning

Summary: When a young vampire comes across a dying outlaw on a mountain, she decides to take his fate in her hands.

Warnings: Brief summary of the end of the game, so spoilers?

The night was cool. Fog held heavy in the air, not a breeze to stir the underbrush. The sounds and scents of nature surrounded the being that swiftly moved through the forest like a panther. Hunger gripped her with iron claws, a thirst that could be quelled by only one substance.

Thunderous sounds of hoofbeats ripped through the quiet night air. Shouts, curses and gunshots were soon to follow. Fresh blood spilled and clouded her senses, pulling her toward the commotion. A burning need sat in her throat, flowing down to her stomach as the fist of hunger gripped her. Fangs, sharp as talons, spiked through and poked her lips. Humans arriving by the droves in pursuit of something, and she had to be cautious.

She kept to the trees, following the explosive sounds as they made their way up into the mountains. She was close enough to hear names: Arthur Morgan, John Marston. They were chasing those two. Through the fog she could make out a plethora of lawmen on horseback. The aroma of gunpowder hung heavy in the air as bullets sprayed mercilessly.

She veered off, knowing she’d be unable to lure one away. They were too focused on prey of their own. Interfering would only turn the attention to her. She made her way to a nearby mountain as the sounds faded. Lean, powerful muscles leapt up the smooth rock, the steep surfaces just mere small hurdles. She reached the top within seconds, staring out at the landscape beneath her. Perhaps she’d catch wind of a lone passerby somewhere else.

The crowd of policemen were relentless in their pursuit it seems. A few short minutes passed by when the gunshots once again crew closer, catching her attention. She turned to see the two outlaws were now on foot, scrambling their way up the very same mountain.

Their voices, although distant, were not hindered to her enhanced ears. The breathless rasp of one urging the other to run, to leave him behind.

She crouched behind a boulder to peer on in curiosity. They were just yards below her. Their words carried like a breeze, final moments of a heartfelt goodbye rushed by the urgency of the situation. Names murmured to one another in sadness. Brothers. Emotions ran high, and she was curious as to why this chase even begun.

The one, John, left the other, Arthur, to fight the onslaught of lawmen alone. The odds were against him. She expected him to be mowed down, buying his friend only mere moments before they were on his tail again.

But he surprised her. He fought back with a barrage of bullets, effortlessly nailing many of them. He climbed up further, the gunshots becoming quiet as he killed off the rest of them. A seasoned gunslinger somehow escaping an inevitable fate. Her curiosity of him grew, wondering if he’d make it back to the other after a while.

That thought was cut short when another man appeared, creating a struggle between the two. This new opponent was dressed unlike the lawmen from earlier, spouting out anger and insults toward Arthur. The fight grew more intense by the second. The way the opponent spoke to Arthur as they battled out on the ledge below, sharp and venomous.

More blood was spilled. Her fangs dropped down immediately from the scent. She knew she should carry on and feed, yet the scene unfolding kept her interest. The sun would be rising soon, and while she could go another day without feeding, it wasn’t ideal.

More emotions bled out as the fight continued. Arthur, from what she could see, was beginning to falter. It didn’t take much longer for them both to fall onto the stone beneath them. Arthur began to crawl for a gun on the ground, while the opponent got to his feet and taunted him.

And then, a third stepped out of the shadows. She was unaware of his presence, appearing like a ghost in the night. Arthur seemed to be drawn to him. Dutch.

There was a raw plea in his voice. She knew that tone: the tone of someone who knew they were about to meet their end. He spoke about trying to become a better man, how he pushed for those around him to break free. The little heartstrings she had left were tugged for this man. He struggled to speak through his ragged breaths as he lay there. He was dying.

The other two still standing began to part their ways after a tumultuous conversation, leaving Arthur on his spot. In her sharp eyes she could see the defeat written on his bloodstained face.

A swell of emotion hit her, stirring her stilled heart. Try as she did to lock away her human emotions, she often would find herself sympathizing with them.

The near-black expanse overhead began to grow gray with dawn’s incoming. She would have to find shelter immediately. She began to scale back down the mountain, though his weak, raspy breaths continued to echo in her ears. She should leave him. Humans die every day.

Yet his last words kept ringing in her head. He just committed such selfless acts despite being so close to death. Most men she observed weren’t honest; falling to their selfish, dark wills and desires behind closed doors and returning to their normal livelihoods as if they hadn’t a sin on their shoulders. A man like him were as rare as they came. Losing such a good soul to the world would be a pity.

She drew closer to him, listening as both his pained breaths and weak heart had slowed drastically. She paused in place, her stomach churning. The dead would not heal. She knelt beside him, watching as his clouded, bloodshot blue eyes stared out into nothingness. Another pure soul lost to the true darkness of the world. As silly as it was to mourn the man known as Arthur Morgan, it only felt proper as he was truly alone.

The blood leaking from his fresh wounds was rancid, tinged with the poison of disease. It was nothing short of a miracle of how he managed to put up such a fight in those last moments, setting his affliction aside to assure one would make it.

Why must the world be so cruel?

The first weak rays of dawn appeared over the horizon, stinging her flesh with its arrival. Just then his head turned, his chest crackling with one final breath.

Her eyes widened. Perhaps he was meant to survive another way.

Before the sun could burn her any further, she picked his body up and cradled him with ease in her arms. She scurried over to the west side of the mountain, keeping herself to the shadows while she ran at a near breakneck speed. Her shelter was not too far away.

---

Darkness. Complete darkness surrounded him when he opened his eyes. A heavy weight as crushing his chest and he tried to breathe – only to inhale what felt and tasted like dirt. He tried to spit it out, though more and more fell in. He attempted to raise his hands to clear the earth away, though his limbs felt bogged down. Cold, loose soil shifted across his skin in his efforts to be free.

Has he been buried?

Panic began to settle in. Buried alive?

His first instinct was to dig, and dig up. He forced his arms through the moist dirt, clawing forward and forcing himself upright. He pursed his lips and muscled his way through. He had to get out. The further he reached, the lighter the dirt became. His fingertips reached open air and he hastened, hands breaking the surface. The darkness above spilled out to glowing silver. He found purchase on even ground and heaved himself upward, loose dirt falling in front of his eyes as he gulped in cool, fresh air.

The remaining sediment fell from his hair into his face, he spluttered and shook it away, blinking as the scene around him came to focus. He seemed to be in a barn, the smell of old hay filling his nose. The bright moon filtered through a window from the hayloft.

He stood to his feet slowly, confusion beginning to settle in. Where was he, and why was he buried in a barn of all places?

“You’re awake.” A feminine voice spoke from behind him.

He whipped around just as a lantern illuminated, bathing the barn walls in a golden glow. A young woman sat on a crate, a curtain of raven hair shrouded half of her face. Her skin was dark and bright brown eyes reflected the flame. She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing her face in full. Her round cheeks and curious gaze reminded him of a child. She herself was petite, dressed in a simple skirt and chemise.

“I thought I was too late.” She continued, standing to her feet.

“Too late for what?” Arthur asked. “Who are you, and where am I?”

“You’re in an abandoned homestead in Ambarino,” she explained, stepping closer to him. “My name is Lucia Rosales. And you’re Arthur Morgan I presume.”

Arthur nodded, his confusion only growing. “Why am I here?”

Lucia walked around him slowly, eyeing him up and down as she went. Arthur froze in place, anxiety beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. His finger twitched toward his gun belt, only to find it was no longer there.

She came to a stop in front of him. She was at least a head shorter than him, her eyes meeting his. “I brought you here, Arthur. I saw you dying on that mountain last night.”

Dying. The memories suddenly flooded back to the forefront of his mind. Gunshots, running, panic and sadness. Bloodshed. Hatred. The struggle to bring that rat bastard down. The betrayal of the one that helped raise him. The ache in his chest finally spreading through the rest of his body, coaxing him to sleep…

Everything at once. So intense it gripped his insides and twisted them. He grabbed hold of a nearby support beam, squeezing his eyes shut, the images flashing vividly behind his eyelids.

He took a deep breath – wait. A deep, clear breath. He wasn’t struggling to breathe. His body didn’t force him to try to cough. No longer did his chest feel heavy with disease. No longer did his body feel fatigued with the tendrils weighing down his muscles.

He turned his attention to Lucia. “Did…did you heal me?” he murmured.

“I did more than that,” she answered with a small smile. “I gave you a second chance.”

“Huh?”

“You know there aren’t many men like you in the world,” Lucia began. “Most I’ve seen are wretched scoundrels. They think they can get away with playing dirty and pretending to be innocent in the eyes of God…” she shook her head, disgust plain on her face. “But you… you’re different. You sacrificed yourself to save another. You fought even when your life was at an end. You spoke about doing good deeds. You tried to become a better person.”

Arthur listened quietly, the bewilderment beginning to surface again. “How could you possibly know any o’ that?”

“Like I said, I saw you dying on that mountain. I heard every word spoken…” Lucia stepped closer, placing her small hand on his chest. He flinched slightly from her touch but hadn’t moved. “The sadness I felt for you was like no other. I thought you deserved more than what cards you were dealt.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “How were you even there? That whole place was full o’ Pinkertons n’ –” he huffed and stepped back, beginning to pace. “This jus’ sounds too bizarre.”

Lucia dipped her head for a moment. “I know it does. But I saved you from death, Arthur.”

“And how exactly did you manage that?” Arthur stopped in his tracks to stare at her. “I had Tuberculosis! That ain’t somethin’ that can heal overnight, Lucia. It’s a goddamn death sentence unless you’re some miracle worker or –”

“Vampire.” She softly interrupted.

“What?”

“I’m a vampire,” she continued. “And now so are you, Arthur Morgan. I gave you my blood and buried us here to begin your transformation, out of the sun. Niños de la noche. We are Children of the Night.”

Vampire. Arthur stared at Lucia, words stolen from his mind. She had to be speaking utter nonsense. Vampires did not exist outside of scary bedtime stories. “I don’t believe you.” He grumbled, scowling at her.

She hissed and her mouth opened immediately, showing a top row of perfectly white teeth. In the blink of an eye two fangs flicked out, as long as wolf teeth and as sharp as eagle’s talons. Arthur jumped and took a step back, his hand raising in defense.

“Now do you believe me?” Lucia said quietly, prompting Arthur to peer at her over his hand. Her fangs somehow disappeared. “We’re much more than urban legends.”

Arthur just stared at her, unable to comprehend what he just witnessed. It’d been so quick that he could have imagined it. He shook his head and turned away. “No…I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what you want, Arthur…” Lucia said, approaching him slowly and raising her hand up to him. “It’s true…feel for a pulse.” She held her wrist out.

Arthur didn’t dare to meet her gaze again, instead looking down at her hand. In the pale moonlight, her dark skin seemed almost devoid of all color. Her veins were prominent, shining blue underneath. Hesitantly he reached out, placing his fingers on her wrist. He waited and…felt nothing.

His eyes widened, slowly lifting his gaze to her face again. She had a solemn expression, staring at him unblinkingly. She stepped forward again, gingerly grazing her hand along the open fabric of his shirt. She rested her palm against his heart.

“You don’t have one either.”

Arthur swallowed hard, his own hand hovering over hers. She moved out of the way as he lay it against his skin. He held his breath and waited…waited…no rhythmic beat to be found. His stomach flipped.

“See?”

He stepped back again, horror ripping through his entire being. “I’m dead!” he exclaimed.

“Undead,” Lucia corrected. “While your human organs ceased to work, another force drives you now.”

He released shaky breaths. How was this happening, and why? Why was he subjected to this? Why couldn’t he have just died on that mountain and be done with it?! “I didn’t ask for this, damnit!” he roared. “Why didn’t ya just leave me?!”

Lucia didn’t react at all to his outburst. She kept her cool expression. “Because you deserve a second chance.” She said. “I wanted to heal you at first…but you were too far gone. Believe me, it wasn’t a decision to be made lightly. Being a Maker is – ”

“A maker?” Arthur interjected. “The hell is that?”

“When a vampire turns someone into another vampire, the original vampire is known as their Maker. It’s a bond like no other. Parent to child, sibling to sibling, even lovers.” She replied, dipping her voice as if speaking intimately. “It is a bond that no human could even understand.”

Arthur stared at her in disgust. “I don’t wanna bond with you, ‘specially since I don’t even know you.”

Lucia nodded once, staring down at her feet. “I…don’t blame you, Arthur. I’m sorry. I just thought someone like you should stay in the world to counter the bad in it.”

Arthur scowled. “My ‘good deeds’ came at a price,” he growled, kicking at a rock on the ground. “I was an outlaw, Lucia. Hell, I still am. I’ve murdered n’ robbed folk for years. The gang I was in, they were my family, they fell to pieces before my eyes…” he sat down on a crate and held his face in his hands for a moment. “I don’t deserve to go on after all the shit I’ve done. Sure, I’ve helped people now n’ then but…it don’t atone to everything else…” he mumbled.

“Your past isn’t what defines you,” Lucia quietly responded. She moved closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Now you have an eternity to do better.”

“An eternity.” Arthur repeated with a grumble. “Livin’ for that long… I don’t think I can take it.”

“The years will pass without thought. You don’t age nor get sick.” Lucia murmured, pausing when he sighed. “You don’t need to breathe either. That habit will fade over time.”

Arthur shook his head silently. “I didn’t ask for this, Lucia. I was ready to meet my fate. I’d done all I could do…” he voice cracked with emotion. “I weren’t meant to survive.”

“No one knows what their true fate is, Arthur,” Lucia gently chided him. “Not even you. Perhaps I was meant to come across you.”

He scoffed in disbelief. “To turn me into a…a monster…” he grumbled.

“It will take some time for you to come to terms with your new life. It took me a long while…” Lucia sighed and gazed upward toward the ceiling, but her eyes told a much deeper story. “I hated knowing what I was, knowing that I could no longer feel the sun on my skin, enjoy my favorite meals, have a family of my own to grow old with…”

Arthur blinked at her words. He noted the look of longing on her face. Her eyes glazed in the lamplight as if she were about to cry. She sniffed and looked right at him again.

“Until I realized what gifts I have, now I pass onto you. I chose to bring you back because I believe you have so much more to give to the world. It’s up to you whether or not you go through with it.” She finished.

Arthur pursed his lips, unsure how to even consider a response to her. He thought back to those last few moments. The rush to get John to safety while the Pinkertons breathed down their necks. The fight against Micah and those moments of betrayal with Dutch. He didn’t know if God existed, but he truly believed it was his fate to die. Everything had fallen apart, and the list of people he trusted had shrunken by the day. Too many innocent lives lost whether it was by his hand or in front of him. His way of life dissolved. The time of outlaws finally ceased to exist.

He went to take a deep breath, and paused. Breathing was no longer a necessity, but a mere habit. He truly was no longer human.

What was his purpose now?

His stomach churned with hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He grimaced from the discomfort, his hand immediately going to his abdomen.

“You’re hungry,” Lucia stated. She straightened up and padded over to the barn doors. She pushed them open, gazing outside. “Come, you’ll need to feed.”

Feed. The word echoed so strangely in his mind. He knew what she meant, and the idea revolted him. At an instant, he felt the pricks of two teeth on his bottom lip. It surprised him, and he ran his tongue along their surfaces. Razor sharp and long, the fangs of a predator.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #vampire au #vampire!Arthur #Arthur Morgan

94 notes · View notes