#and just like the tar. the memories build up until it's all but overwhelming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

berrykook · 4 years

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bloom (demon!y!hs) (nsfw)

do not read if you are not into yandere fic! hs is a demon jackass pls save urself!

in which hoseok finds you in his garden and his love begins to bloom

contents: demon!yandere!hoseok, kidnapping, manipulation, oral (f receiving), sex!!! i gotta spoil it they fuck! and hoseok kinda says some...sub stuff idk :/

word count: 5.2k

a/n: thanks for the requests ! <3 i got off track from building this universe and i ended up sorta negating the law that demons and angels can’t interact buttttttt reader still kinda has a moral dilemma ? >.<

IMPORTANT before they start fuckin, reader has a moment of confusion and suspects that hoseok has intentionally magically warped her mind into consenting but that’s not the case reader is just dumb! thank u also i don’t know much about flowers or hell so i’m sorry if any info is incorrect :( lmk and i will fix immediately (and let’s pretend hoseok’s dog is a girl bc i didn’t know that until googling it for this fic)

and mb that this is coming a month after i said it would :( school is beating my ass hard anyways pls enjoy

*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

Hoseok once had a mother a mere three-thousand or so years ago and she named him well. His name fell off her tongue in a major key and rang across acres and through caverns. She never failed to say his name in gargantuan font to be heard across nations; the syllables “Ho-seok” had chimed through shadowy deserts of Hell, Heaven, and Earth for as long as he lived. Hoseok was always big and known - a beacon of diabolic energy; it was his birthright.

His mother was long gone, but remained in a photograph which he always kept on his person (demon?). It was supposed that even immortals had to walk forward into new lives after some time. His father had been around for around one hundred years after, and his sister had moved on when he was barely a thousand. The only companion of Hoseok’s, the only one left, was a shih tzu who followed him even when he treated her with indifference. Hoseok had great power and an abundance of Earth men who sold him their souls, but the loneliness which plagued him was indescribable.

“News for you, my Lord. Taehyung has declared he is but one sure meeting from stealing the Park soul for work to complete in the Circle of Fraud. He has said to be back in less than a fortnight.”

The assistant, doe-eyed and snake-tongued, stared at the wall behind Hoseok as he recited the news from one of hell’s most talented demons, who was currently on a sabbatical to inspect the soul of an Earth man with an itch to be with a woman he saw on the train a year prior. Taehyung had come bustling into Hoseok’s quarters one day, spewing gibberish about the perfect human to become his next target. Hoseok’s chest twinged a bit when Taehyung explained that this Park Jimin schmoe had been stalking this woman for months and was willing to practically sell his soul to be with her (enter Taehyung). “How wonderful,” he said wistfully, yearning for a perfect confidante like this Jimin character had found. At Hoseok’s glassy expression, Taehyung had to withhold a shiver.

Hoseok took a long moment to respond. He stared at his assistant, wondering if he, too, yearned for such a dream, or if perhaps he had even already found his match made in hell. The assistant’s nose twitched like a rabbit.

“Thank you, Jungkook. You may go,” Hoseok said apathetically. He robotically spun on his heels and exited Hoseok’s office with heavy footsteps. Hoseok stretched in his chair, debating if he should charm the assistant’s feet to grow dead and swollen and moldy to teach him not to walk so damn loud all the time.

The shih tzu yapped happily around Hoseok’s feet as he slowly rose from his desk to stare out the window to his left, which displayed miles and miles of lush greenery and delicate flowers of all colors. He conjured the garden around when his sister passed on. She, too, had an infatuation for infatuation and longed for a faraway place to water a romance. Once, they peeked into their father’s seeing portal as children and stumbled upon two lovers in a field of flowers.

(Hoseok did not possess his own soul, but if he did, it would be prickly and tar-like and scary. He was on the cusp of royalty in the underworld. He was evil.)

Still, Hoseok clutched the memory of those lovers in the flowers with tight fists. How magnificent it was to just be in the shadows of lovers. Oh, how the feeling crawled over him like a crowd of tarantulas. He was evil, and was sure he would never experience such a joy. At least he had his garden.

Hoseok felt your presence before his foot even touched the grass that day. He froze in the doorway for a moment, closing his eyes to sense where the intruder was. Within seconds, he discovered your exact location within the field that went on forever. He let out a breath as his feet hit the ground, now teleported a thousand miles from his home. He opened his eyes and choked for a second. His senses were going haywire - the grass was a million shades greener and the flowers seemed to bloom bigger before him. It was beautiful.

As soon as you became completely engulfed in the sickly red hot aura, you went ramrod straight and dropped the bundle of flowers in your hands. It filled every one of your pores and poured down your intestines like lava. You did not even get the chance to gasp - after the instant it came, it burned too much to inhale or exhale. You stared forward straight into the field, wondering how this spirit did not wilt all of the garden. You didn’t dare look in the direction it was coming from.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok spoke finally after a long moment of thick silence. The typical malice in his tone had completely vanished. He was sure now - he loved you. “Angel...are you lost?” He thought about kneeling to get on your level, but hesitated, awkward in his actions. What was he supposed to do with his hands?

Slowly, you trailed your eyes over to where those awful vibrations were originating from. Your stomach twisted when you saw him simply standing five meters away. You became filled with an indescribable dread. A demon, horns and all, staring at you and speaking with tenderness. You began to blubber immediately.

“I’m so, so sorry, I-I was just looking for a f-f-flower I heard you had, oh, dear God, I’m so sorry!” You were inconsolable, dropping your head towards your knees in surrender. Just feeling him that great distance away put you in shambles. You were young and naïve, but you knew what happened to Heaven’s Souls that were caught sneaking in the Circles. Your cries only worsened when his aura became stronger and more painful with every footstep. You suddenly felt an overwhelming warmth on your back and your cries immediately halted like magic.

“Don’t cry anymore.” His voice seemed to boom even when he was trying his hardest to keep it soft. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Speak freely...tell me how you arrived here.” His hand trailed up your back to rest on your neck. He wanted nothing more than for you to relax against him.

“I-I was...searching for a flower. I had heard about a secret garden in the Fraudulent Circle...one with every flower to have existed. I-I’m so sorry. Please, have mercy!” You began sobbing again into your hands, holding them close to your face when you felt his gentle touch around your wrists. “I only died just last year…I don’t want to vanish, please!”

Your wails struck a tune in Hoseok’s ribcage like a kalimba. He grabbed your fearful face in his hands and wiped your tears with his thumb. You held your breath in shock at how gentle he was.

“Not a single soul has trespassed my garden and escaped vanishing.” Your bottom lip wobbled at that, and he ran a thumb along it to still it. “But you...sweet angel...I couldn’t dare do that to you.”

Your mind raced, knowing how clever demons could be and especially such a powerful one like him. He was devastatingly handsome - if you were still on Earth, you would have melted right into his hands.

His smile is twisted. “Lover...do you know who I am?” He stared down at you in admiration, rising a bit on his knees to hover over your face.

Slowly and fearfully, you shook your head. He pressed a ghost of a kiss on your lips as he turned to your ear and whispered softly, “Ho-seok.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood straighter and your whole body erupted with goosebumps. You stared at him with wide eyes.

Hoseok. A name you knew of well, even when you were human. Hearing him whisper that name into your ear like that made your knees shake a second more rapidly. It felt as though the blue skies above had darkened into a hellish black hole. He chuckled at your terrified expression, smoothing your hair back with a burly hand.

“Are you scared?” He couldn’t help himself from asking. Your glassy eyes made him both sad and also weak-kneed. He decided in that moment that he especially loved to tease you.

You nodded again and Hoseok cooed, playfully squishing your cheeks a bit.

“You’re such a young one, aren’t you? Just a baby,” he mumbled, running his hands along your cheekbones, through your hair, across your forehead. Chills continuously crawled up your spine as he fawned over you like some sort of doll. You understood where you were going before you began your trip, but you truly felt it now - this was Hell.

“There is no reason to fear me. I couldn’t hold any malice toward a soul so beautiful...even better that you are an angel. I can easily arrange a place for you in my fortress if you so please.” Something in his tone warned you that it didn’t matter what you pleased. You gave a small nod, letting him take your hand in his. He held it to his face, inhaling deeply and pressing wet kisses along your forearm. “Really? You don’t mind sharing a space with a big, bad demon like me?” He chuckled darkly against your palm and you bit your lip nervously.

“No,” you murmured quietly. He was tricking you. You could feel it in your bones.

He smiled widely, also seeing completely through you. He knew then that he would need to put in some work to turn you over. He placed a hand on your back once more and leaned to bring his forehead to yours, and in less than a second, you had found yourself teleported to a cozy study with velvet carpets. Your stomach turned with anxiety at the thought of your friends and family not knowing where you had disappeared off to - you weren’t even sure if you were still in a Circle of Hell or some other evil place. Hoseok stood up slowly and brought you by the hand to behind his desk, perching you on his lap.

“Tell me, angel, where are you from?” He conjured a brush out of thin air and ran it through your hair like he would a doll. You clenched your fists in an attempt to get your voice under control.

“I was told that I was the last of my family to die. They’re all up in Heaven, waiting for me.” Hoseok began to brush your hair slower. “B-But, it’s...fine, I guess,” you added quickly. The last thing you wanted was for Hoseok to grow suspicious of you. “I just...wanted to find a type of camellia. I love flowers,” you whispered. The feeling of his breath on your neck made you embarrassed. He laughed.

“Camellia? You should have just said so,” he beamed. Suddenly, his arm wrapped around your front to reveal the red blossom you had pain-stakingly sifted through the fields for. A soft gasp escaped you as Hoseok placed the flower in your hands, then wrapping his hands around your wrists. He seemed to like having that hold on you.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! It’s just how I pictured it,” you whispered in awe. You turned in his lap to face him, doing your best to ham up the performance to give yourself the best chance of survival. “Thank you, Hoseok.” You hoped that his doe-eyed expression so close to your face would not make your own expression drain of color.

“You’re welcome, darling...I can call you that, can’t I?” He leaned in closer to your face and you squeezed the stem in your hand to force yourself not to move back.

“O-oh...I suppose so, sure…” you said coyly. Hoseok’s smile grew wider and he slowly leaned in more, further and further, until his lips were pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your hope for escaping was decreasing exponentially as he continued to fawn over you and kiss your face.

“Darling, tell me more,” he mumbled against you. “Talk to me about this afterlife in Heaven of yours. I want to know everything.”

You were sure that he was able to find out anything he wanted with just a lick of his magic, but you indulged him anyway. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s heaven, isn’t it? It’s...wonderful, actually. I missed my family for so long on Earth that it’s an indescribable feeling of being reunited once again.”

You did not lie - Hoseok would likely pick up on that before you could even pull the words from your throat, so you did your best to make your reality sound like something you held onto dearly. In truth, it was Heaven - nothing more, nothing less. Your entire family, along with every Godly person you had ever known was there to keep you company as you filled your days with...whatever it was you wanted to do. Heaven held your wildest dreams.

Going spelunking to the Eighth Circle of Hell was the most interesting thing you had done since you died, but you knew that staying was out of the question, right?

The needle of your moral compass twitched slightly.

“I...I miss them,” you mumbled sadly, playing with your fingers like a child. Hoseok remained silent and your heart picked up a beat as you couldn’t yet tell if he was seeing through you. He turned his head away from you, biting his lip.

“I see, angel...you would like to go home, wouldn’t you?” He looked to you again, reaching to cradle your face. You felt a profound force pulling you to lean in closer. Something about him felt right, and you were beginning to feel disgusted with yourself for it. His thumbs stroked underneath your eyes as he looked at you sadly. Your heart stirred unwillingly.

“I suppose I should...shouldn’t I?” You had to refrain from smacking yourself as the words tumbled out of your mouth like an avalanche. Ever since you were a young human girl, you had been warned of a demon named Hoseok and his tricks. You slept with a night-light for several years from the gruesome stories of him that lingered around your shoulders for long nights. You feared him, but a prickling feeling in your sternum somehow drew you closer. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Sweet angels like you belong in Heaven. You have your afterlife and I have mine,” he sighed wistfully. You leaned forward to rest your forehead against his.

There was no explanation for this unsolicited adoration blossoming in your chest. You were never one to fall in love easily, but it felt like the walls were going to close in on you if you didn’t give in. Yes, you were fully suspicious now that Hoseok had done something to your mind to make it melt in such a way, but it felt so good that you didn’t attempt to fight it. Hoseok grinned widely, itching to use his magic but ultimately restraining himself.

You were correct from that first moment he appeared behind you - you were completely and utterly hopeless.

“Besides, who would want to stay with such an ugly, evil demon like Hoseok?” He scoffed, looking away from you pitifully. You gasped and dropped the flower so you could tenderly hold his face in your hands.

“Don’t say that!” He grinned sheepishly under your gaze. “I just...I was just saying...um,” you stumbled over your words, trying to remember why exactly you had to leave him here. Your family was waiting for you in Heaven, but they suddenly seemed so miniscule compared to Hoseok. You were torn between completely rejecting him and his demonic nature, and attempting to understand that nature and understand the soul he is. His aura had changed totally since you first felt it - you now could only feel the love he had for you. It was absurd.

“You don’t remember, baby?” Hoseok laughs and your blush deepens. “I thought you were so eager to get back home...can’t you make up your mind?” Hoseok continued to tease you, which made you feel as if you were up in flames. Your mind raced, unsure of what was happening. Hoseok was now kissing the pads of your fingers. He moved so slowly, but you felt as if time was advancing more quickly by the minute.

“My head is...foggy. I don’t know what I want,” you mumbled, grabbing his hand to place on the back of your neck. He smiles widely.

“I think you know exactly what you want.” Hoseok took one of your hands to place on his chest. You immediately started rubbing it, up and down in slow strokes. “Such a good little angel...you always have been, haven’t you? Married a good man, lived honestly as a florist...you’ve been so good…” Hoseok held your face by your chin and slipped a thumb into your mouth to run along your lower set of teeth. “Why don’t you let yourself run free for a night? Be a little bad?”

He slipped his thumb further into your mouth and you leaned forward so it would reach toward the back of your throat. Hoseok moaned at the feeling, smirking evilly. “Darling...don’t you want this?”

You closed your eyes and hollowed your cheeks, letting the pad of your tongue be pet by his thumb. He released it from your mouth with a wet pop.

The burning in your sternum spread like wildfire through you, and you knew then that you had to let yourself smolder. You had already thrown caution to the wind when you decided going to a flower field in Hell was more fun than being around the people you had already spent a mortal eternity with. Something about his aura had your head reeling and your core dripping.

Fuck it. You were already caught in Hell.

“Yes, Hoseok. I want this.”

Hoseok leaned in to place a tender kiss under your jawline and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself teleported into a King-sized bed with a thick red velvet comforter. Hoseok hovered over you, still suckling on your neck. Like a virgin, you fiddled with your hands for a moment before hesitantly placing them on his shoulders.

Hoseok chuckled lowly, pulling away to look at you and push your hair behind your ears. “You’re nervous. Don’t worry,” he murmured. He placed a kiss below your right ear and sent a quaking shiver through your spine. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Hoseok grabbed both of your hands by the wrist and held them slightly above your head against the fluffed pillows. Whatever sex dungeon he had teleported you to was perfect - the cool feeling of the velvet against your skin and the aroma of Hoseok’s devilish aura made your knees shake. Hoseok noticed this and ran his hands up and down your thighs slowly, lovingly. “You’re shivering,” he laughed. You turned your flushed face away from him. He continued to laugh at you softly before turning your face back towards him with his pointer finger. “I already told you once. If you wish to leave after this, I’ll send you back to your place in Heaven without hesitation...there’s no reason to be scared because I will do anything you ask.” He kisses you deeply on the lips. “That is how I feel for you, just after this short time together.”

His attention on you felt thick like molasses. He made you feel as though you were the center of the universe. This was wrong, and you felt it deep within you. Knowing this, you reached up to capture his lips once again and palm his cock through the dark silk of his pants.

Hoseok moaned happily and continued to kiss you again and again for what felt like forever. His tongue lapped over every crevice of your mouth at a painful pace before finally moving his hand to slowly thumb your clit. His movements were agonizingly slow - you assumed he wanted to preserve this moment before he sent you on your way home.

You let out a deep sigh into his mouth as he slowly, but harshly, stroked your clit and fingered the opening of your pussy and just a touch from your ass. He smiled over you as he watched and took in every facial expression and inhaled each breath of yours.

“Does it feel good? Please, please, tell me,” he moaned. You stared up at him in disbelief - he seemed on the edge of orgasming just from seeing you in pleasure. You had barely done anything but stroke his cock through his pants. “I need to hear you tell me it’s good.”

You smiled smally, reaching up to grab at his chin. “Yes, yes. You’re doing so good, Hoseok.” You fought back a giggle as he practically rolled his eyes back into his head at your minimal praise.

“Angel...please, let me eat you out...I promise I’ll do good, please just give me the chance…” He began rutting his hips against one of your thighs and you laughed out loud. At the sound of your laughter, he whined pitifully.

“Are you sure you’re from Hell?” You laughed as he buried his face into your stomach, embarrassed. “Just get started so you can fuck me already.”

Things quickly took a turn for the stranger as Hoseok buried his face into your pussy and made completely lewd sounds of pleasure from this. He seemed to be enjoying this more than you and it made you feel both embarrassed and hot. The feeling of control made your lips tilt up in a sick smile as his grip on your thighs tightened with each moment.

“Y-You’re doing so well,” you mumbled after several minutes of Hoseok eating you out while trying not to cum in his pants. “S-so, fuck, good.” It was an odd game that Hoseok was playing, but you followed along gleefully. At your praise, he moaned loudly into your pussy and sent a shiver of pleasure up your spine. “C-come here,” you instructed, reaching to pull his head up towards yours. He let out a pant as he dragged himself up towards you, knuckles holding himself on the bed shakily. “Will you fuck me?”

Hoseok bowed his head to place a kiss on your sternum. “Anything for you,” he whispered, almost hissing like a snake. He guided your hand to stroke his cock for a bit, all while he loudly expressed and moaned for you. Heat continued to rise in your cheeks - Hoseok was scandalous.

“S-sweetheart, fuck, we have to start before I come all over your thighs.” You both laughed and he gripped your neck possessively, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The pressure of just the first stroke had you rolling your head against the satin pillows. Hoseok seemed to be handling it in a worse way, as it looked as though he could already be finished in just a quick moment. You gripped his neck and pulled him closer before whispering to him, “How do I make you feel?”

Hoseok growled for a moment, before whimpering and burying his face into your neck. “Y-you’re a princess...fuck, fuck, I fucking can’t...a queen,” he moaned.

You threw your head back again as he picked up the speed of a jackhammer. He dove into you so deeply with such vigor and passion that you had no doubts he wasn’t mortal. Nobody but him could drill into you like this.

Hoseok reached down to get a grip on one of your thighs to perch on his shoulder. You moaned unashamedly and it made his pace jolt for a moment.

He continued fucking you relentlessly, occassionally turning his head to nip at your thigh. You turned your head to bring your gaze to the mirror in the corner of the room, proudly displaying Hoseok’s muscled back and his cock slipping in and out of you. You let out a breathy laugh and Hoseok began fucking you with everything in him.

“You like seeing yourself getting fucked? You look radiant,” he growled, pounding into you so hard you were bumped by the headboard. At a loss for words, you nodded, once again reaching up to hold his neck tenderly. He smirked down at you. “Ready?”

You let out another laugh, nodding eagerly. He smiled softly, too softly for a demon, and placed on hand on your pussy and one on your breast, all while keeping his inhuman pace fucking you. Just the touch of his hand on your clit had you in tears, but his skill in rubbing it tenderly had you screaming out. At the first sight of your tears, Hoseok came inside you almost immediately. The sounds filling the room were lewd, and the feeling of his cum filling your pussy and getting all over your thighs and ass held the same sentiment. Ever so slowly, he stopped pumping and delicately brought your leg to rest on the stained velvet. He kissed your lips slowly and lovingly for several minutes before wrapping you in his arms and just holding you close.

“You are perfect,” he spoke softly after the long silence. You drowsily looked up at him for a second before looking away shyly. “Tell me what makes you happy, and I will give it to you.” Another slow kiss to your lips. “Anything you’d like.”

You kissed back with hesitance, now eager to make your way back home after being held and kissed by him for nearly an hour of cuddling.

“I’m happy with the camellia.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jawline before rising slowly, looking around the room for a door.

Hoseok chuckled darkly, rising as well and holding your waist to bring you onto his lap. You protested, flushing deeply when he still planted your bare pussy onto his legs and let his remaining cum from inside you flow out back onto him.

“That’s not what I meant, darling.” He brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and admired you closely. You looked away, twiddling your thumbs. “What is it that you would like in our living quarters? Would you like the flower shop from your mortal life, or perhaps the home you raised your children in? I could conjure another garden at the drop of a hat, sweetheart...anything you would like.”

His stare on you intensified as he spoke. Your heart rate picked up once he said “living quarters,” and you begged it to slow so he wouldn’t notice.

“O-oh,” you stuttered after a long moment. He kept running his fingers through your hair and it sent chills down your naked spine. “I’ve got everything I need at home...don’t you think it’s time I get going?”

You looked at him coyly, hoping he would keep his promise of sending you home afterwards. He laughed breathily and kept a large hand cradling the back of your head.

“You didn’t think I would actually let you go, baby?” Hoseok laughed out loud, throwing his head back. He pressed an urgent kiss to your lips. You did not return it. “You’re mine, even if you didn’t have my cum dripping down your legs. You were mine the second you set foot in my garden.”

You looked to him carefully and let out a nervous chuckle. The temperature in the room began to rise, though you stayed still on his lap. Hoseok’s smile deepened.

“I have to go home,” you whispered after another long silence. At this point, you were dripping sweat while Hoseok remained unbothered. “You said you would take me home.”

Somewhere inside of you had clearly known all along that making a deal with Hoseok had no way of ending well. You knew he would torture you and eat your heart for breakfast because Hoseok was a demon and that’s what demons did, and especially ones of his calibre - yet, you stayed. You knew he would end you, and you stayed.

“Darling...you’re so sweet.” He leaned in to whisper into your ear, “and stupid.”

In the blink of an eye, Hoseok had transported you to the desk chair in his office. He had dressed himself in a fine suit and yourself in a ruffled dress so white it hurt your eyes. You noticed now that his office was also decorated in that heavy red velvet. It made your stomach churn.

“If you really would like to go home, the door to my garden is here. I told you already.” He rested his hand on the doorknob and looked to you with heavy eyes. “I love you.”

You held back a scoff, knowing that he wasn’t asking, but demanding you to go past the door. For some reason, his last confession of love was more bone-chilling than the others. He opened the door for you and towered over you as you cautiously took the first step onto the soft bed of grass below.

A feeling not unlike what you felt when you first encountered Hoseok’s aura ran up your leg and struck your entire body. Immediately, you rebounded back into Hoseok’s office and dropped to your knees as the burning made you feel as though your flesh was dripping off the bone. You cried out as you repeatedly ran your hands up and down your arms and legs, reassuring yourself that they were still there. Hoseok let out a booming laugh.

He bent to sit cross-legged on the floor with you.

“It’s not real, baby. You’re just imagining it. See?” Hoseok grabbed your wrists gently and placed your hands on his face. “Look at me. You’re safe,” he chuckled. You still had to take a moment to catch your breath.

“I have to go home,” you sighed, exasperated. Hoseok smiled again, grabbing hold of your wrist again to caress it tenderly.

“Listen carefully, darling.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forearm. “I don’t want to have to say this again. You’re mine. I own you.” He intertwined your fingers. “I could rip your heart out in a second. I could feed you to my dog. Feed you to the assistant.” He ran a hand through your hair and lovingly held your trembling chin.

“I could make you vanish with the snap of my fingers...now, or later if you want to act up.” You looked down in shame and he immediately grabbed your face again to bring it to his. “Take one step outside that door and I’ll have you up in flames. I could have your head on a fucking stick, baby.” Suddenly, he cooed, wiping a tear from your eye. “You are home. You were meant to get caught in my field. I was meant to meet you, and love you. I love you. Sweetheart?”

His hand that was holding yours suddenly contracted, squeezing your bones with a sick snap and pop. Through your cries, you sobbed out, “I love you too.”

He smiled sickeningly, planting another kiss on your forehead. “Remind me your favorite flowers. We can keep them in the bedroom.”

#yandere hoseok #yandere!hoseok #yandere bts #yandere!bts

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litwitlady · 3 years

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Blood Skies (1/4)

Read on AO3.

Wrathwell City is all too familiar with murder. It’s alleys strewn with torn limbs and the red pulp of half-eaten bodies. A thriving black market of organs and teeth and whatever other grisly items are necessary to summon demons from the Underneath. But in his nearly three hundred years, Alex Manes has never witnessed a crime scene quite this gruesome.

‘Captain Manes.’ The gruff voice sends a shiver dancing down Alex’s neck and along his spine, unsettling his wings.

‘Guerin.’ Alex doesn’t bother looking at the man (not a man, an alien made demon). He already knows each detail of his handsome face, his long, lean body. ‘One of yours?’

‘You wound me, Captain. Max and Isobel aren’t even in town.’ Alex hears the taunt in his voice, the dangerous smirk. ‘But I’d love to help you get to the bottom of things.’

‘No.’ Alex turns on his heels, wanting, needing to put distance between himself and the demon he’d intended never to see again. ‘I already know who did this.’ He barks it over his shoulder and then spreads his wings for flight, shooting up into the night sky and disappearing from sight.

The air is crisp, near-freezing as he climbs higher. The cold helps clear his head, helps him focus on the complicated job ahead of him. It’s rare for an angel to go rogue. Rare to step this far out of line when the whole world is at your wingtips. But that’s exactly what Forrest Long has done and now it’s Alex’s job to clean up his mess, to smite him before the next moonrise.

Just as the sun crests the horizon, he plants his feet on the rooftop of the Legionnaire Tower. The landing zone is empty, devoid of a single soul -- angel or human. But Alex’s feathers bristle when he senses a dead spot in the atmosphere, a hollow in the morning’s humidity. He barely has time to pull his blade from between his wings before Michael Guerin appears before him. Again.

‘Reaction time’s a bit slow, Alex. Better get some sleep. Don’t want to disappoint the Sarg.’ There’s a bitter bite to his words, but there’s something else as well. Something softer, something beckoning. Something easy to fall into. Experience has taught him that much. ‘I don’t want to find any more scars on that perfect skin. Unless I’m the one putting them there, of course.’

His smile is jarring. Playful and seductive. And for a brief moment, Alex considers taking him to bed, letting him burn another mark onto his skin. Or maybe this time -- the final time -- a wing. He sheathes his sword as his cock hardens, and he doesn’t bother hiding his arousal. ‘Don’t call me Alex. That’s our deal, Michael.’

Michael practically hisses at the sound of his name, the physical pull of pain he feels now that Alex is his true Summoner. ‘You always have liked it rough.’ He takes an insolent step closer, the slink of his hips drawing Alex’s eyes down to his slim waist and that ridiculous belt buckle. ‘Let me make you feel good, Alex.’ The bold use of his name quickening both their breathing. ‘I’m so good at it, and you’re desperately in need. It’s been too long.’

Alex grits his teeth, balls his fits so tight his nails break open his palms. ‘You know I can’t.’

Another step closer and Alex truly doesn’t know whether he should take a step back or hold his ground. He’s afraid if he moves even an inch, if he so much as breathes too deeply, Michael will pounce and this whole charade will be over.

‘I know no such thing.’ He’s close enough to touch now, close enough to feel his heat. The burn from the Underneath. The warmth from his unknown birth planet.

‘A third time destroys me, Guerin.’

‘A third time frees you, Alex.’

The morning light is growing brighter with every passing second. A battalion of angels will be on the roof soon, readying for deployment across the city’s quadrants. One way or another, he’s got to get Michael off the top of this building. ‘Meet me at the Shamrock. Fifteen minutes.’

With a last wolfish grin, Michael vanishes.

To his left, the roof’s doors crash open. The expected battalion floods the landing pad, heads bowed in deference to their Legionnaire. A smattering of good mornings from those brave enough to speak and a secretive grin or two from past conquests. He does his best to calm his reaction to Michael, but that’s so much easier said than done when you’ve already been marked twice.

But Angels don’t get marked by demons. Certainly not centuries-old Legionnaires.

Alex watches them take to the morning skies and then slips inside, doing his best to go unnoticed by whoever else might be lurking in the stairwell. He’s unlikely to run into his father, but the risk is enough to put him on edge. Once he reaches his quarters, he locks the door and takes several shuddering breaths, the scent of brimstone and rain still overwhelming his senses.

He cannot go to Michael. Because if he does, he will ask for the third mark. Beg for it. Just like the first time, the second time. He doesn’t have the willpower to stop himself. He’ll drop to his knees and beg, beg until his throat is raw.

He cannot go. There’s Forrest to deal with and his own smiting once his father finds out he’s bound himself to a demon. A demon not even of Earth. Jesse Manes will tar him in the middle of the plaza. Make a spectacle of torturing his son. Draw his smiting out across days, weeks, maybe even years. A century if he’s feeling particularly vengeful.

Going to meet Michael means ending his life one way or another. Whether at the hands of his father or by severing all his Angelic ties and binding himself to a demon, his life as he knows it will be over.

A third time frees you, Alex.

The words play over and over in his head. No one ever taught him that demons could be so naive, so susceptible to connection. But no one had taught him that about Angels either. So maybe this isn’t how things were supposed to feel. Perhaps he and Michael were wrong somehow, abominations of their own kind. Fated to meet and destroy everything good and holy together.

Biting his tongue, Alex fights back tears. The Manes bloodline would never cry over another Angel much less a lower being. He can hear his father’s mocking, sneering words playing right alongside Michael’s promises of freedom.

A third time frees you, Alex.

A Manes smites what is impure. Angel, human, or lesser filth. Don’t make me tell you again.

Squaring his shoulders, Alex swallows his tears and sits at his memory board, a final decision made. He expertly erases his existence from the Legionnaire’s database and creates himself a new identity. The third mark will rerender his DNA anyway. Another name is of little consequence. Once that’s done, he packs a small bag and hopes Michael will wait for him because he’s already late.

A third time frees you, Alex.

He hopes that’s true. Because the chance at freedom is all he’s got left.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #au prompts #blood skies

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aurora-the-kunoichi · 4 years

Text

The Forgotten - Part Three

Here is part three of The Forgotten

Here it is in its entirety

The Aquarium

Raphael had always been….overwhelming, the one to leave her breathless, boneless and tied up in knots after a rough session of love making. He knew what buttons to press, the right pressure to touch at just the right places. Raphael was a master of breaking down walls and getting exactly what he wanted by making Aurora realize she wanted the very same thing. This Raphael was no different.

Aurora could feel her heart in her chest as his sinful lips found the pulse point bringing the skin into his mouth and sucked until the blood vessels burst. As he continued to molest the skin in his mouth Raphael’s left hand moved to her backside gripping the apple of ass and squeezed. Aurora tried; she really did, but found it impossible to stop the moan escaping between her parted lips. Memories flooded back as he pressed her into the side of building with his immense frame while licking at the now red mark that spread across her skin.

Raphael did this regularly when they were hers and hers alone. He’d mark her mostly in the mornings when they’d get a few moments alone and he take the first fuck of the day and the subtle mark on her neck would remind Fearless that he had, had their kunoichi first. It was a game the alphas played on the regular always trying to one up each other which Aurora didn’t mind being the object of their attentions. Being on the receiving end of their insatiable sex drive was something she would never complain about. Mike and Don were nearly as bad but they tended to be a little more submissive to her.

“Raphael.”

“That’s so fuckin’ pretty, say it again.” Raphael husked pressing his knee between her thighs to widen her stance. “Why the fuck do I want ya so bad? Like I’ve been starving for years and you’re the only thing to satisfy my hunger?”

Aurora fought with her body as it responded favorably to his impatient treatment. Her hands shook reaching for the rim of his shell and willed herself not to pull him closer but to keep him at bay. She had to get her libido under control, this was not her Raphael. She took a deep breath and pushed; the mouth that was sampling the column of her throat was detached and growled its warning of displeasure.

It was now she could hear his labored breathing as the disconnect from his body allowed some of her senses to return. Even in the low light Aurora could see his pupils dilated, Raphael’s ravenous sex drive was in full gear and his sights were locked in on the kunoichi. She needed to be quick and utilize all of her tricks because despite the throb between her legs Aurora wasn’t going to give him what he wanted and she could tell he really wanted it.

“Come girly, I can smell ya, I know you want this too. And if we’ve fucked before I know ya can take me.” The eager mutant moved forward again his hands searching to reclaim the roundness of her backside.

Aurora jumped gripping the lip of the roof’s overhang and lifted up and out of range of those gifted three fingered hands. Her legs spread clearing his towering height and using her stomach muscles reared back and launched herself over the mutant landing just behind him.

Raphael fist slammed into the wood siding and whirled around with a manic smile widening over his scarred lips. “Playin hard to get huh? That’s ok cause I love the thrill of the chase. When I catch ya I’m gonna make you scream my name and mark you inside and out. That way Fearless will know who had ya first.” Just then the brute stopped his forward motion and blinked eyeing Aurora carefully. “I’m havin déjà vu right now, like I’ve said those words before. But Leo and I have never…….”

He looked confused running his hand over his scalp before clamping both hands over his skull grunting in pain. “God my skull, it hurts all of a sudden.”

Aurora took the moment of his distraction and kicked the solid turtle in the chest sending him back on his shell. With the quickness of her training she moved over the enormous turtle and pressed under his left arm pit and above his plastron to the right of his clavicle, right where she needed to immobilize the deadly terrapin. The mutant hissed in discomfort as his body succumbed to the pressure points and every muscle in his cumbersome frame let go of its tension leaving him helpless to the tempting woman.

Despite his arms and legs useless his lips still worked just fine, “Ain’t you full of fuckin’ surprises. Pressure points, I’ve only seen Leo use those. Looks like I seriously underestimated your abilities. I promise that won’t happen again. That is unless you plan on killin me beautiful.”

Aurora straddled his hips and leaned down settling her elbows on his chest and her head in her hands. “It’s Aurora, and don’t worry handsome those pressure points will wear off in about 15 minutes. I don’t want you dead I just wanna have a few words. You are having déjà vu because you and Leonardo have both had me, but so has Mikey and Donnie.” Saying his name out loud still hurt but the furrowing brows and a grunt of pain that came from Raphael indicated his brain was trying to access the suppressed memories. “You and Fearless would play a game practically every day. It was called ‘Who fucked the kunoichi first.’ It was a game I enjoyed being included in. You see, I know a lot about you. I know you’re just a little bigger then Leo with a slight curve to the left. You have a long scar that runs from the top of your thigh down to your knee. I know that you love your adonis line stroked.” Her right hand disappeared between them dipping under his waistband to find the well defined line of muscle just under his plastron connecting to his groin.

The immobilized turtle tried tilting his hips up into her fingers as they ran the length of the line coming to a stop just before his cock. “Fuck!” his head dropped back to the tar roof and rumbled as her fingers moved down bypassing the rock hard rod of flesh and the hanging green globes. “Ah come on!”

Aurora leaned down ghosting her lips over his, the tip of her tongue darted out running along his lower lip and he leaned up to catch the appendage sucking it into his mouth. She allowed it briefly having her first taste of Raphael in years. She opened her mouth and swept her tongue into his mouth giving him a deep kiss and broke free. “I also know your little kink.” The pad of her finger ran just under the green sacks tracing the line of flesh just under them. “I know when you get head you love to get your prostate massaged.” Just then her finger ran over the puckered entrance and the brute gasped as the soft pad of her finger pressed against the flesh just enough to make him groan.

“Fucking impossible…ugghh…..fuck……”

“I know every inch of your body Raph.” Her hand moved up again and the palm of her hand finally gave him the attention the mutant had been craving and gripped the pulsing cock firmly. Aurora closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, this was getting way out of hand but she needed his attention, his full attention and she had it now for sure. “As much as I want to ride you until we’re both sweaty and satisfied…”

“Please, dear gods, please do blondie.”

“Your boss isn’t who you think he is Raphael. Bishop took you from me, from the resistance and put something in your bodies to make you obedient.” Her fingers slid down to the base of his shaft and twisted just the way he liked it. “And you Raphael are anything but obedient.

“Fu—hck….What the fuck are you talkin about? Fuckin shell, just-t like that!”

“It’s small and metal or some kind of alloy, we’re not sure. It moves around your body somehow keeping you and your brothers under his control. Keeping millions under his control.” Her hand released his cock and Aurora leaned up much to Raphael’s displeasure.

“I ain’t got nothing in my body controlling me. I ain’t no one’s puppet!”

“Oh I know. You’re not one to take orders, at least without questioning their validity first. It was the main theme of yours and Leo’s fights. But why do you think it hurts when you try to remember? Why you and your brothers are drawn to me? Why the name Donnie pulls at something deep inside you? You had another brother but he disappeared and we had no idea what happened to him. It still haunts us to this day. Can you remember anything prior to five years ago? Your childhood?” Suddenly out of the corner of her eye Aurora could see his finger twitch, it was time to leave.

Her fingers rested on his chest and ran over the hard lines letting out a shaky breath and stood.

“Hey, wait! Where ya going? You can’t leave me like this? Fuckin tease!”

Aurora moved off of him and took a few steps back edging the shadows of the roof. “The feeling is coming back in your body and I can’t be here when it does. I’ll be seein you red…” And with that she disappeared from his view and began her escape listening to the roar of her name fade with the distance.

She didn’t stop; Aurora ran and ran bypassing home base just in case he would take chase. She wouldn’t take any more chances; she did enough of that tonight. Keeping to the darkness Aurora slipped below the streets and made the trek to her own personal hideout.

The lair had been abandoned shortly after Bishop earned his edge in the war. The turtles and Aurora moved to the resistance’s hideout to stay close to the news and the help. So the lair was still only known to a select few. Since the five original tenants were either gone or unable to remember its location only Aurora, Casey and April knew of its existence.

Aurora made a trip to the lair at least once a month to make sure everything was running and that it was still stocked just in case of emergencies. Just in cases the resistance fell and they needed a new place to lay low.

The vacant rooms still hurt to look at, Donnie’s lab sat with abandoned machines and projects never to be finished again. The room with the rice paper doors had been missing its owner for the longest. Running her fingers along the teak wood frame Aurora pushed it open and kneeled at the opening. In the middle of the room was a beautiful ornate Japanese table and sat upon it was a green urn filled with the remains of Master Splinter.

“Good evening Sensei, I know it’s been a while since I’ve visited but I figured you’d like an update on your sons. I had a run in with Raph this evening; he didn’t try to kill me this time so that was a bonus. I had to use a few of my tricks to get him to listen but I think I might have moved a few brain cells around a bit. I..may have kissed him but it was unavoidable. “Her eyes lifted to the vessel and let out a heavy sigh. “Ok maybe it wasn’t but….it’s been so long and I was weak. He did have something interesting to say. Supposedly I have been a regular topic of conversation with those three. That’s something I guess.” Getting back to her feet Aurora bowed. “Sensei.”

She moved about the lair until she entered their room looking at the giant makeshift bed. She remembered the day Mikey had suggested the consolidation of their sleeping arrangements. He had been so proud of himself he was simply beaming from ear to ear.

“What the fuck did ya do shell for brains?” Raphael was circling the massive arrangement of mattresses, blankets and pillows. Even though he was a bit annoyed Aurora could see the wheels spinning in his head.

Mikey took a few steps back and rushed his creation grabbing Aurora as he went. Aurora screamed in shock as the youngest hurtled her and him onto the mass with a very comfortable collision of bedding. “No more fighting over who gets to sleep with Rora. Now it’s just gonna be a giant turtle pile with her in the middle.”

Leo stood in the doorway with his massive arms crossed over his chest; his face was unreadable as he watched Mikey molest Aurora with his signature enthusiasm.

“I don’t usually say this but…..” Donnie was right next to Leo but his expression was much more readable. The big toothy grin widened and the genius followed the two into the bed helping Mikey strip the kunoichi of her clothes. “This is probably the best idea you’ve ever had Mike.”

“Leo! Raph!” Aurora squealed mock fighting off two of her lovers. “Are you gonna just sit there and let them take advantage of me like this?”

The two alphas finally found each other’s gaze and stepped from their positions. Raphael rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck while Leo slipped a kunai from his thigh holster.

“It looks like you two are taking way too long to rid her of her clothes. I think you need to let a master take over.”

Raphael moved with Leo and lunged, “Not if I get to her first Fearless.”

The introduction to the new bed was christened with their first fivesome leaving Aurora walking a little funny the next few days. She still found it unbelievable she was once in a relationship with four mutant turtles. Aurora remembered how good it was and how amazing each of them were to her. Something that good wasn’t meant to last. Life could be so cruel sometimes, a taste of heaven before it was ripped from her grasp.

Aurora crawled into the bed and pulled the covers over herself. The interaction with Raph had left her shaken and emotionally drained, something she was not expecting for the nights events. She had nearly given in to his advances and that worried her. But then again the closer he got and the longer he was in close proximity he seemed to lose more and more control. As she mentioned things from his past Raph’s head began to hurt as if the memories were trying to resurface. Maybe she should have given in?

Their scent had left the room long ago but the indents from their shells remained. Her fingers trailed along the massive divots imagining their slumbering bodies just next to her. She imagined Raphael turning to her and his honey eyes opening to find her staring at him.

“Can’t sleep?”

“I’m just imagining you guys here with me.” Her hand reached out and ran her palm across his cheek smiling as he leaned into the touch. “I miss you.”

Raphael moved closer running his fingers through Aurora’s hair gripping the back of her skull gently, “We may not realize it but we miss you too. But I’m hopin’ you guys can figure those fuckin little things out. I wanna come home; we wanna come home to you.”

“We’re working on it I promise. It’s just gonna take a little longer without Don here to head the charge. We’ll get you home; we’ll get all of you home or die trying.”

“Nah Rora don’t do that. I can’t fuck you into next year when I’m free of this bullshit if you’re dead. You need to stay alive and strong cause this isn’t gonna get easier, it’s only gonna get harder.” Raphael leaned in giving her his signature smirk. “Speaking of harder….”

Aurora closed her eyes and waited, but like all of her other day dreams those lips never came. No arms came to claim her. By the time she opened her eyes Raphael was gone and his indent cold as death. Tears began to form in her eyes as she stared at where bulky terrapin had just been laying. She was tired, so fucking tired.

The next thing Aurora knew, she was being jolted awake to the com flush in her ear blowing up with a familiar worried voice.

“Base to White Skull, base to White Skull. Where the fuck are you!?” April’s angry voice boomed in her ear. Just under the irritation Aurora could hear the fear in the back of her throat clawing at her subconscious praying her friend wasn’t captured or worse….. dead.

She must have fallen asleep, poor April had enough to worry about. Pressing the com in her ear Aurora yawned and replied quickly, “This is White Skull to base. My apologies I had an unannounced visit from Red Bear. I was unsure if I was being followed so I took refuge in the aquarium just in case. I didn’t want to compromise the base just in case he had gotten the best of me.”

“Are you alright?” April’s voice instantly softened understanding the code words and knowing she was safe.

Aurora let out a heavy sigh and nodded to mostly herself, “Yeah I’m ok, I must have fell asleep. I’ll return at dawn.”

“Be careful White Skull, I…..we’ll see you in a few hours. Over and out.”

As the com went cold Aurora sat up pushing the blankets from her body. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she made her way to the kitchen for something to drink.

The genius’s sewage powered generator was still working like a dream. As long as the human race still occupied New York City there would always be an endless amount of human waste. Donnie had figured out a way to harness that power and turn it into unlimited power for the Lair. The lights remained functional, along with all the kitchen appliances as well as the bathrooms. God she missed him.

The fridge was the least supplied appliance. It held perishables and in a secret lair uninhabited most of the time it was unwise to keep it stocked with items that would go bad quickly. The freezer held most of the food and the fridge held water, pop and butter.

Pulling out a bottle of water she cracked the top and downed the whole contents in one gulp.

“Fuck!” Aurora growled throwing the now empty bottle in the trash. “My thermos! Now I gotta go get it.”

Just then a burst of light from Donnie’s lab distracted Aurora from her lost item. In a flash her hands went the hilts of her katana and unsheathed them with a low sing. Her feet made no sound as the kunoichi made her way to the partly closed door currently displaying a spectacular show of multi colors.

She could hear electricity snap and crackle and a low hum of some kind as the light show pulsed faster and faster. As she reached the partially open door to Donatello’s lab Aurora peered through the crack and felt her heart stop and burst all at the same time.

Her katanas slipped from her grip clattering to the ground at her feet. In a hurried burst of energy her fingers found the edge of the metal doors and pushed with all her might.

“DONNIE!?”

@imthegreenfairy88 @alonia143 @ravn-87 @waterstar2016 @tmnt-bucklover

#tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fandom #tmnt fic #TMNT TMNT fanfiction #The Forgotten #Part Three

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beerecordings · 5 years

Text

Turning Back

Part 11 of My Brother’s Keeper (Part 1 l Previous l Next)

My taglist is a separate post, so let me know if you would like to be added or removed. Wow how are we only getting to this point in the story now!! Guys I really take my time telling stories, huh? We going slow, babeys, that’s how I do. Hey, happy new year to you guys :) thanks for reading.

He doesn’t know what he can do yet. He just hopes that he can save himself, and deal with the consequences when they come.

Jameson Jackson is a rock in a river. The water crashes around his head and body, stronger than a hurricane, and all he is a rock, a rock standing tall amidst the flood, his arms raised and his eyes closed.

What is this?

The only power he has ever tasted was bitter and poisonous, and this is nothing like that. This is – this is –

Silver and cool and so very very sweet in my mouth. Did I do this?

Time feels like taking a walk in the rain with nowhere to go. Time feels like pulling a book off a shelf that hasn't been touched in years. Time feels like waking up beside a fire that’s died down in the night, and still being warm, and remembering.

Jameson opens his eyes, and the world is before him.

The universe is before him, and Jameson –

Jameson is the rock that stands amidst the memories of a whole cosmos.

In a howl of noise and noir, a thousand black and white images go flickering past his eyes and through his head with every second that passes, and time is no longer without him but a living thing that exists in his silver-stained wrists. He can't tell if he's about to die or just breathing, breathing, gasping, finally taking in something that should always have belonged to him, finally choked up on his own wild, terrible, extraordinary power. It's not painful. It's wonderful. Agony and terror is drowning in the water, and all that remains is Jameson Jackson.

This is time! This is the world! This is everything! I – I –

Delighted, overwhelmed, desperate Jameson Jackson.

I can fix everything. Can't I? I have power too now! Power of my own! I'll go back. Far back! I'll go back to the house, and I won't kill the policeman, and then Anti and I will never have to leave, and I will never have to kill Chase Brody, and then – well, then we can be happy forever.

It's instinct, to step forward. Instinct, to summon the image of the decrepit house where he had lived only days before, spending his days drawing in dust on the floor and wandering the forest and waiting for the next time Anti would decide he needed to be either rewarded or punished. It was a simple kind of misery. He's learned to live with it. He's learned to call it happiness, most of the time. And if he could go back, he would.

But he can't.

The image of the house sits before him, almost still in the rushing silver water all around him, but he can't reach it, can't touch it, can't go back, no matter how hard he tries. The image is too incomplete, too faraway, too black and white.

“No!” he signs. He plunges his hands into that cool pure water and he catches glimpses of the broken fan that used to sit on the floor of the living room and the rotting walls filled with knife marks and Anti, sitting in his room, surrounded by screens and electricity.

But none of it is enough to bring him back.

Maybe I can't go that far back, he realizes with a growing despair. Am I not powerful enough? Have I forgotten too much already? Or is that just not where I'm meant to be?

He lets the image of the house go, and stares around him, and does not know what to do. He's scared and he's bitter, because that is all he has ever been taught to be.

“This is just another way you left me nothing, isn't it, Mr. Jack?” he signs to no one, to nothing, to everything, to the universe. “Did you give me this power and then bind my hands? You let me hold the world in my hands, but I cannot make the waters move. I can't change this? I can't go back? I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know who I am. Let me go! Let me go back! This is bullshit! It's bullshit. What, you won't let me be happy? Just for five minutes, you won't let me be safe? This is too much for me.”

He wishes he had a voice so he could scream it.

“I'm just Dapper. I'm just Anti's. This is too much for me and I want to be happy and safe. Please, just for once, I want to be happy and safe.”

He is a rock in a river, and he stands still among a hurricane, and weeps until he can't weep anymore, weeps until he is ready to try again.

Okay, he tells himself, rubbing silver tears from his cheeks. Okay, I can figure this out. Everything's jake. I can do this.

He's still Jameson Jackson. He's still the little traveler, even if he can't change everything.

Maybe I'm not supposed to make everything perfect. Maybe, right now, I can just fix this mistake I made.

Because if other things have faded into the past, the memory of Chase's blood is still all too present in his mind, present enough to return to, present enough to prevent.

I can undo the blood I spilt. I can still save the man in the cap, the man who wept for me, the man who called me his own and told me he loved me. I can still save the man in the hood who wept for us both. I can still save myself. Can't I?

The memory of only seconds before is so tangible in his hands that drawing it to the surface of the tidal wave around him is easy as watching his clock tick, and he sees Chase's face as he had seen it before, scared and shocked, but no longer seeped in that red haze that had driven Jameson to fury and hatred. All he does is reach out, and press the stopwatch button on his pocket-watch, and then –

Chase is before him.

It's quiet in the building, given sound only by the hiccuping of the crickets outside and the occasional thump from upstairs, where their older brothers are tearing each other apart. Chase has wide blue eyes and his scarless hands are held back in surrender. Jameson is pressing a gun to his chest.

“It's okay,” Chase whispers, though his face is white with horror. “It's okay, Jameson.”

For Chase, there is no gap in time.

For Chase, all there is is a change in Jameson, a change as sudden as a single frame of a video, and the rage and the hatred in his face fades away like smoke disappears from a the stomach of a gun. Jameson's mouth has dropped in confusion, his face softens and falls, and, for just one second, his wide eyes gleam silver – silver like clean iron, like stars from a distance, like a memory still close enough to reach out and touch.

“Whoa,” Chase breathes. “Whoa, you – you – Jameson?”

The gun clatters to the floor and Jameson stares straight at Chase. His pupils are blown wide and he's breathing like there's poison in his mouth. One of his shaking hands taps two fingers against the other wrist.

“Time,” he says, and then. “You're not... dead?”

“No, I – you threw him off,” Chase says, and gasps. His blood is shot through with adrenaline and it's kind of painful to breathe. “You protected me. You – ” He laughs aloud, tears sparking in his blue eyes, but Jameson's face is white with shock, and he does his best to soften.

“Oh, Jameson,” he says, his mouth gentle with sorrow and uncertainty. What does this lost little brother want? What does this lost little brother need? He can have anything he wants. Chase will get him the moon if he asks for it. “Buddy, listen. Everything's going to be okay. You saved me, man! You saved me. I'm going to look out for you now. Okay?”

He holds out his kind and unscarred hands, and for a second, he thinks Jamie will turn and run away from him. Chase prays he won't turn and run. A moment passes, and Jameson, pushing red memories away, blinks, swallows, staggers, and falls into Chase's arms.

“It's okay,” says Chase one more time, and bursts into tears.

He doesn't know exactly how Jameson dislodged Anti from his head. He pleaded with Jameson the whole time they fought, but he doesn't think he's said anything all that redeeming. Not that it matters. Nothing matters. Nothing matters except that Jameson is slumped against his chest, clutching at his hoodie and letting his whole body weight crash against his shoulder.

Nothing matters except that he's alive.

“I thought I lost you,” Chase cries, holding Jameson's head against his own. “I thought I lost you so long ago, man.”

Chase doesn't shove him away like Anti would. Chase doesn't smell like ash or tar. Chase doesn't make his skin burn or his stomach roil, doesn't make his brain melt and his thoughts smudge, doesn't call him worthless or bite, hard, at his wrists or his ears. Chase isn't too hot, too cold, too angry. Chase has no edges, no cruelty, no power.

He smells like vanilla and whiskey and his hands are steady and warm. He presses his head against Jamie's and holds his brother, and whimpers, because he is human too, and they are both more sorry than they know how to express.

“You're here. You're here,” Chase cries, and though Jamie does not answer, he hears. “I love you, okay? I do, I love you. I know I haven't been there, but I've got you now. I've got you and I love you and everything's going to be okay.”

Jamie wishes he could rejoice and delight in relief and affection, wishes he could hug him back and sign love into against his shoulders til the message gets through one way or another, but he's shaking too hard and scared too badly. He doesn't even have time to be glad he's saved Chase before he realizes – in a way that is slow and agonizing – that he's just broken rule number one of surviving his life: do what Anti tells you.

He broke the rule. He broke the rule.

“He's going to kill me,” says Dapper, and it is only after he's signed it that the truth of it comes crashing down around him like a whole forest tumbling to the earth in the wake of a tsunami, like an iceberg rocking into the ocean, like a moon slamming into the world it's meant to orbit.

Anti's going to be angry. Anti's going to hurt me. Anti's going to make me pay.

He recoils from Chase like a spring, shoving him onto the ground, and stumbles away, his vision spotting white. “Anti's going to kill me!” cry his hands, and then he gasps, and chokes, and grabs at his hair, wild with terror.

“Jamie! Calm down, man! I'm right here, okay? Come here, come on. I'm not going to let Anti hurt you. I promise, alright? I promise I'll keep you safe from him. Listen, we need to go. I told Jackie I would get Henrik to safety and you're coming with us.”

But it's too late already.

Upstairs, no gunshot sounds. Upstairs, Anti opens his eyes, and realizes that Jameson has failed him.

“Oh, Dapper puppy,” he laughs, his right eye burning red. “Oh, Dapper brother, has Chase turned you so easily from me?”

He appears on the third floor of the building, leaving Jackie slumped against the wall and gasping for air. Chase hollers and falls back towards Henrik. Jamie does not move with him.

Anti smiles slow in the darkness. “There will be consequences,” he promises, in a voice like something nocturnal and carnivorous and sentient enough to know the taste of hatred. “There will be consequences, my brothers, for the choices we've made.”

And, letting his throat split like paper and bleed afresh, Anti moves toward them.

#babes i already got most of the next chapter written and i'm excited about it!#jacksepticeye #jameson jackson #chase brody #antisepticeye #bee posts #thanks so much for all your help last week guys #hey please at least like if you read someone was talking about how only a tenth of people who read a fic will like #and i would be so happy if there really are more of you out there #but anyway have this and a happy new year!!!#my brother's keeper #my brother's keeper part 11

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shaylybaby2032 · 5 years

Text

Let Me Be Your Lighthouse

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit/18+

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

A/N: Please do not copy my work to any platform without my permission, even if giving credit.

Warnings: Eventual smut, physical/mental abuse, angst, fluff, language

Summary: A Duke of Hell wants to use Gabriel for his own nefarious plans and makes a deal with the Empty Enitity to bring the Archangel back from the dead. But, when Gabriel escapes, the Duke must reach deep into his arsenal to try and track him down. Not long after Gabriel's great escape, Sam and Dean race to save a fellow hunter who has been captured by demons and, after rescuing her, convince the woman to let them help her get rid of the demons hot on her heels. While the two occurrences seem unrelated at first, they may have more in common than any of them realize.

"A wise man once told me, 'family don't end in blood.' But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there; for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts." -Dean Winchester

Chapter 1: Unexpected Return

The full moon hung low in the night sky over the large patch of deserted dirt in Fort Collins, Colorado that had once been an attempt at a cornfield. The former owner of the land hadn't expected this particular patch of land to be so deprived of the nutrients required to grow grass, much less the crop he had staked his financial well-being upon. He had become quite aware of the losing battle when the ground had all but spit out the yellow kernels as black and hollow husks. If he had been aware of the door that laid deep below the surface of the ground he had been trying to grow the plants in, he would probably have gone running for the hills, or the nearest church.

Unfortunately, there was no way he could have known that the very energy seeping into the ground making it volatile would find its way in to his own mind during the single year he spent trying to make the decision to dump all of his money into the plot a worthwhile choice. There was no way he could have known that exactly one year after he first set foot on to the place that he would be sitting in the local mental institution staring blankly at a wall mumbling about a void no human was ever meant to see.

When he died less than three weeks later, the bank had put a “For Sale” sign on the land. It stuck up from the ground until the elements faded the bright writing away, and it became one of those properties that fell through the cracks as it shuffled around in the system of more appealing purchases.

That was, until almost a decade later, when a man in an expensive five-piece suit walked into the bank asking to speak with the president of the establishment. The man was charming enough to disarm anyone he was speaking with in a way that, had anyone really been paying attention to the ease in which it happened, would have made them fear for their very souls. They hadn't noticed, however, and before long the engaging man with professionally short midnight hair and piercing, dark brown eyes had the female bank president completely enthralled.

It wasn't the sharp and attractive features of his face that drew her in. No, she was far too smart to be taken in by a pretty face and a fancy suit. Years of dealing with business men and women had sharpened her skill of rifling through bullshit and pipe dreams. It was his confidence that drew her in at first, and it slowly mixed in with an attribute she couldn't quite describe. After having checked the credentials he had given her, she discovered he had more than enough money to pay the offer he had presented to her for the property. It was an offer that was more than quadruple the listing price.

While she couldn't see the appeal of the dead piece of land that sat on the outskirts of her town hidden by brush and now overgrown woods, she had finally accepted his offer. When he smiled his approval, her stomach dropped to her feet. The gesture had sent a sense of unnerving through her that had her hair standing on end, and could only be described as wicked. He hadn't given her a chance to go back on her acceptance of his offer, and he grasped her hand in a handshake to seal the deal. She had fought with everything she had not to jerk away when she came in contact with his cold skin. The connection made an overwhelming sense of dread crash over her so hard that she could have sworn the light in the room hit his eyes in way that made them appear to be deep black orbs, threatening to drag her down.

As the suited man walked out onto the moonlit field, that same wicked smile was painted on his face. After all these years he had found the doorway, one that he was sure God had loathed having to make after his Archangel had fallen and created those first dark beings. His eyes flashed to black again as he pulled a glass jar of dark red liquid from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He walked in a circle as he poured the thick substance onto the ground in the shape of sigils that predated even the earliest Sumerian cuneiform. All the while he chanted a language long since dead enough to not be in any written form. When he had completed the circle, the ground beneath him began to rumble and he stepped outside of the markings just as they began to glow with an eerie black hue.

Thunder rolled above his head and lightning lit up the sky as the dirt within the circle began to shift and swirl. A thick tar like substance started to bubble up from the dirt, jerking and spasming as it was drawn to the center like metal to a magnet. The substance pooled and started to build on itself, slowly forming a humanoid shape. With another crash of thunder, the vile liquid crashed back into the ground to reveal an exact copy of the suited man standing in the center of the circle with pure loathing etched into his features.

“Eligos,” the copy growled, addressing the man that summoned it. “To what do I owe the annoyance of being called on by a mighty Duke of Hell.” it's voice held a disgusted tone as it mocked the being in front of it. “Had I been sleeping when you called I would have dragged you down to my domain on sheer principle, so I advise you to tread lightly.”

Eligos bowed respectfully as he spoke. “Oh great being of the Empty, please, pardon my intrusion, but, I am in need of your assistance.”

“MY ASSISTANCE?!” the Empty Entity barked. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE MY TIME WITH THE LIKES OF YOU?!”

“Because I will make it worth your while,” Eligos said cooly, not even phased by the primal shout that had come from the being in front of him as he straightened his posture. “I have discovered that you know a good deal when one presents itself.”

The Empty Entity regarded the Duke with interest, though it's ire was still prominent. “What is it that you want, Eligos. My patience is already thin. Don't make it worse.”

“The Archangel, Gabriel.”

The Empty threw it's head back in a spurt of laughter so sinister that the wildlife around the area, had there been any dumb enough to wander close, would have scurried away in haste. “Why would I even entertain the idea of freeing an Archangel?”

“Because I offer two of my sixty legions of demonic soldiers for him.”

The Empty scoffed at his bargain. “Twelve thousand demon souls for an ARCHANGEL?! Even one as broken as Gabriel is worth far more than that.”

“Then name your price,” Eligos insisted, his calm exterior never faltering.

“What use could you have for an Archangel with low grace and a hefty dose of PTSD? Your superior really did quite the number on him. But, you know that. Asmodeus confided in you and you alone about his pet, among other things.”

For the first time Eligos’ still presentation faltered as his eyebrow arched in questioning.

“I receive the memories of each being that comes to my domain,” the Empty explained before he could ask. “Asmodeus was sick, even by my standards. I will only ask one more time why you want one of his broken toys.”

“Gabriel's low grace makes him vulnerable and open to... persuasion.”

“I see. You understand how devastatingly wrong darkening an angel can go, correct?”

“I have the means to control him once he's mine.”

The Empty crossed it's arms over it's chest as the being contemplated the request made by the Duke. “I want half.”

“HALF?!” Eligos spat, his tranquil demeanor completely falling. “You want HALF of my army?!”

“Yes,” The Empty confirmed. “A hundred and eighty thousand demon souls should fit the bill.”

Eligos snarled as he bit back on the expletive words on the tip of his tongue. He took a second to center himself again before he spoke. “Deal.”

“Not quite. You still need to...what's the saying? Ah, yes, sweeten the pot.”

“What else could you possibly want?!”

“Oh, you know exactly what I want.”

Realization crashed down on to the Duke and he glared at the entity before him. “You know I can't give you that.”

“I'm well aware of the rules, Eligos. I am, however, the one that had to agree to them all those eons ago with that pompous idiot that plagued the universe with his perverse creations. I am also very much conscious of your connection with what I want. If anyone can make it happen, it's you. Or...do you doubt your control over the abomination?”

“No!” Eligos spat. “She will do as I say. But, only after I have Gabriel how I want him.”

“Fair enough,” the Empty said as he closed the distance between them and extended his hand toward the demon Duke.

Eligos grasped his offered hand and shook. Thunder crashed as lightning streaked the sky, the sound causing the ground to shake. Swirling black smoke filled the air above their heads as the sound of desperate screaming ripped around the area. With another clap of thunder, the black cloud was sucked into the circle on the ground and disappeared beneath the dirt.

***

Gabriel sucked in a harsh breath as his eyes shot open. Pain seared through his skull as his blurry vision started to focus on... nothing. A complete black void surrounded him, yet somehow he laid on a sturdy surface. He jerked to a sitting position as he clutched at his chest, searching for the wound that he was sure had ended his life. He was shocked to find his body free of blood or the hole he knew he should have. He was certain he had died. Wasn't he?

“Yes, you are definitely dead,” a voice drawled from behind him.

A voice he knew well, and the sound of it took him completely off guard as he scrambled to his feet to whirl around. He then came face to face with... himself?

“What the hell?” Gabriel whispered.

“Not exactly,” he watched the other him say. “Just your friendly neighborhood primordial being.”

It finally dawned on the Archangel with whom he was speaking to. “You're the Empty Entity.”

“DING DING DING! Give the angel a prize!”

“Why am I awake?” Gabriel asked, then rolled his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “Winchesters. What have those idiots broken now?”

“Oh, trust me angel, you are going to wish it was those boys that bargained for your broken being.”

The next thing Gabriel's mind registered was the feeling of being thrown to the ground as his body forcefully coughed up the dirt that had somehow found its way into his lungs. Slowly he started to realize there was a breeze. There had been nothing but stillness in the Empty and the sudden change had his head jerking up even as his coughing persisted.

He was back on Earth.

His Earth.

He was alive.

Why?!

That's when fire erupted in a circle around him, flames he quickly recognized as holy fire. A growl rose from his chest as he pushed himself to his feet, facing the figure that was now illuminated by the flames. Rage rushed through the Archangel's system at the sight of the Demon Duke.

“Eligos,” he snarled.

“Gabriel!” Eligos retorted with mock excitement. “So nice to see you up and moving, though I think I preferred you chained with your mouth sewn shut.”

“I swear I'll incinerate you where you stand-”

“And how do you plan on doing that while you are trapped in holy fire with low grace?”

Gabriel's eyes flicked up to the sky at the dark storm clouds that had moved in. He turned back to the Duke with a smirk on his face. “I do believe it looks like rain.”

As the last word left his mouth, mother nature smiled on him and the first drops of rain started to fall. They landed on the fire with a sizzle that caused the flames to jump.

“Only a matter of time,” Gabriel continued. “Even low on grace, I'll have no problem doing away with you.”

Eligos barked out a laugh as he gestured to the Enochian symbols around the outside of the fire that the Archangel had missed in his anger. He studied the symbols closely for a moment. They had been altered with dark magic, a sinister power that he hadn't seen since before Lucifer had been locked away. His stomach dropped as he realized what the Duke intended to do and his eyes shot back to him.

“You see, Gabriel,” Eligos started, “that fire won't matter once I've darkened what little grace still resides within you, because then you will be mine to control.”

“NO!” Gabriel shouted, frantically looking around for a way to deter the Duke's plan.

“Yes!” Eligos said as an evil cackle started to flow from him.

He started to chant in a language that was a mix of Enochian and Latin, causing the sigils around Gabriel to glow and the holy fire to roar to a size that towered over his head. Immense pressure punched into his chest, sending him to his knees. He could feel the magic seeping through the fire and into his vessel. He fought against the parasitic force with every ounce of strength he had, but he could feel it invading into the very sense of who and what he was. Could feel it twisting around his grace, forcing the shadow of his large wings to blaze forth into existence. The flames licked and sighed at his shadowed feathers and an idea formed through the suffocating pain it caused. He had no choice. He couldn't allow himself to become what this magic was trying to drag him towards.

He wouldn't allow it.

With a renewed strength he contributed to the pure adrenaline of the moment, he reached behind his back and grasped at his own wing. His fingers knotted into the soft shadowed feathers, and with one last breath to accept what he was about to do, he pulled. With twisting and wrenching motions he jerked on his wing with all his might, the pain exploding into his being and blurring his vision. A feeling like magma being poured into his vessel stampeded through his body, making his throat constrict and his feathered appendages jerk of their own accord almost like they were trying to escape. He was vaguely aware of Eligos’ failed attempts at coming through the amped holy fire to stop him, but when the base of his wing separated from not only his vessel but his very being, a scream of agony ripped from his lips that sent the ground trembling. The blur of his vision turned to complete darkness for a split second before he pulled himself back from the edge of unconscious by pure will alone. He wouldn't succumb and let this demon win. Not again! Not ever again! Eligos crashed to the ground as Gabriel started the same process with his other wing. When it, too, was torn from him, both wings burned to ash as his grace shot out from the gaping wounds in his back. The ash and grace swirled around him, dousing the flames with a force that sent the Duke flying through the air out of sight and leveling everything within a twenty mile radius.

There was silence, then, as his grace shot into the sky and vanished.

Gabriel was left lying flat on his stomach, gasping for air. The wounds on his back had somehow been healed, but he still felt the agonizing emptiness from what he had done. His skin was covered in a thick layer of sweat as nausea rolled through his stomach threatening to spill the bile that his stomach now created. His body trembled as he forced himself to roll to his back, trying to control his breath and attempting to grasp what he now was.

Human.

Chapters 1 through 3 are up on Ao3. Continue reading here...

#gabriel spn #gabriel #gabriel x ofc #gabriel smut #gabriel fanfic #gabriel supernatural #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #fanfic

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glenngaylord · 3 years

Text

A PAUSE FOR SOME PURE POP CULTURE BLISS

ABBA: BON VOYAGE

Sometimes, a bit of pop culture can have an overwhelming effect on me. A memorable shot in a film, such as the beautiful moment when Harley Quinn escapes captivity in The Suicide Squad, exiting in slow motion surrounded by animated flowers and birds, will stay etched in my memory. Same goes for a perfect meal, a well-earned reality competition victory, an astounding architectural feat, such as The Vessel in NYC, and a perfect pop song. I consider “Toxic” by Britney Spears to be at the top in that category.

In fact, my musical tastes have always leaned towards bouncy pop. Give me a beat and a great melody and I’m a fan for life. I’ve been a lifelong fan of ABBA, the Swedish quartet, specifically for their distinctively European chord progressions, twisty melodies, snappy bass, oddly dark lyrics, and those otherworldly, precise harmonies by Agnetha and Anni-Frid. I remember by sister Wendy introducing them to me, blasting “S.O.S” on our family stereo as she’d pace across the room. As she strode back and forth, taking in the music, it felt like a sacred act. You could feel her soaking it up and sense she was thinking about what she was hearing. I’m so grateful I learned to appreciate music from my sister, something I don’t think she knew until now.

A year later, now a diehard fan, I would go to the record store at our nearby mall, anxiously asking the cashier when ABBA’s new record, Arrival, would get released. They never really knew, seeing how the internet didn’t exist, so I’d go once a week for months on end until it finally appeared. I’d repeat the same steps the following year for ABBA: The Album. I opted out of seeing them live when they toured the USA, thinking, I’ll catch them next time. There was no next time, and I regret the chance to see these Pop Masters in person to this day.

Consider my joy, that 39 years after their last recorded music, they’ve not only announced a groundbreaking live tour of sorts, but a new album, Voyage. Two new songs saw their release a few days ago, and I cannot stop crying. Yes, they’ve aged and you can hear it in their voices, and they haven’t tried one bit to modernize their sound, which wisely plays into the beautiful nostalgia of it all. They’ve trapped themselves in time to give us old and new simultaneously, much like the motion-captured, de-aged avatars (rightfully called ABBA-tars) which will appear as holograms performing with a 10-piece band at their live shows.

Claiming nobody wants to see them onstage at their current age, the band has offered up a gust of wistful nostalgia, and have found the perfect moment to do so. With COVID, the Taliban, Texas, the prison colony known as North Korea, systemic racism, the rise of fascism with its war with truth, the plight of Sudanese refugees, on and on, we could all use a little joy and most importantly, harmony.

The two new songs, “I Still Have Faith In You” and “Don’t Shut Me Down” may feel like pastiches of their older hits, but they achieve pop perfection on their own. The first, a ballad in the vein of “Thank You For The Music” and “I Have A Dream” may seem a bit schmaltzy, but repeat listenings have revealed its quiet power. The lyrics, which seem purposefully open to interpretation, achieve a wonderful intimacy when they sing, “Do I have it in me?”, sounding, like Tracy Chapman famously wrote, “like a whisper”. The production builds and builds, including those wonderful “Fernando”-esque drums, reaching an epic crescendo. It’s a perfect little pop gem, corny as it may feel upon first listen.

The second song opens with another ballad feel, which made me droop for a second. I wanted a bop, not another testament to all things dire. After a few bars, however, “Dancing Queen 2.0” began with a bouncy beat, sax, cascading piano, and moments which gave me “Take A Chance On Me” and that “Super Trouper” bass line. I erupted in tears, happy that they were B-A-C-K, thrilled that they sound so good and pure, elated by those interconnected vocals, and so grateful to feel like that kid again, sneaking up on my sister as she walked across the room. I thought of all the years that have passed, yet in an instant I was taken back to those blissful days of soul-stirring music.

youtube

BIG BROTHER HISTORY

Yes, I’m a Big Brother nerd. There, I said it. This guilty pleasure summer reality series has always felt cheap and way less fun than watching paint dry. Still, I love its over-the-top dopiness and it features some of the more complex strategies of any game out there, as long as they don’t fill the cast with influencers and non-gamers. This season, they’ve managed to put a lot of smart people into the house, and more significantly, 50% of them were people of color. Their main series has never had a Black winner, with the complaint being that Black contestants end up feeling like outsiders with few options to set up alliances with people who look like them.

Not so this season as the 6 Black contestants instantly set up “The Cookout” with the purpose of assuring a Black winner. With only a few weeks left in the game, they have done just that. Now down to 8 people, it feels like a foregone conclusion we will see such a historic win. Moreover, with such players as Tiffany and Xavier, we see master gaming occuring. Tiffany, while no possessing the sharpest social skills, has figured out this game in a way that has put her among the ranks of some of the show’s greatest players. Even though many of the alliance members dislike each other, they all have a higher purpose and will hopefully give hope and example to anyone who enjoys seeing the underdogs finally win.

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banshee-cheekbones · 6 years

Note

could you write standrew joining the mile high club (unless you don’t write smut)

I really did intend on making this smutty, but it ended up being somewhere between a hard T and a really soft M rating. set in season 3, on the flight over to Japan.

~2k, on ao3 here.

Wordsmith.

When Steven blinks his heavy eyes open, his mouth is dry, his head feels like a bruised fruit, and there’s nothing but pure and absolute darkness stretching out before him.

It takes him a few languid blinks to get his bearings and realize that he isn’t dreaming, that he hasn’t been sucked down into the La Brea Tar Pits through some kind of unfortunate accident. Rather, he’s on a flight to Tokyo, somewhere around thirty-five thousand feet in the air, and the darkness is just the vast expanse of the sky on the other side of the thick glass window, stretching off into what truly looks like infinity.

Blinking again, he groans and sits up a little straighter. The thin fleece blanket he bought just after takeoff slithers down his chest to pool in his lap as he idly glances around. The rest of the cabin is dimly lit, overhead lights lowered to accommodate the fact that most of the passengers seem to be sleeping, based on the quiet all around him.

He doesn’t blame them. He has no idea what day it is, let alone what time; his brain is already scrambled from the change in time zones, and they haven’t even landed in Japan yet.

He takes a moment to thank his past self for having the foresight to set aside the first day of their trip for the sole purpose of dealing with the jet lag.

“You drooled on me.”

Steven jumps and swivels his head to look at Andrew. It doesn’t look like he’s gotten a wink of sleep yet; there are bags under his eyes, and he’s read nearly two thirds of the paperback he purchased at the airport before they left.

“Did not,” Steven responds automatically. Andrew’s facial expression remains carefully neutral as he glances down at the shoulder of his sweater. Sure enough, there are a few dark spots dotting the fabric, and even though it’s not the first time it’s happened (and definitely won’t be the last), warm mortification floods Steven’s face as he mutters, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Andrew closes his book and stashes it in the small storage compartment on the back of the seat in front of them. “Did you get some actual sleep?”

“A little, I think.” Steven yawns and glances back out the window. If he squints, he thinks he can make out some clouds, smudges of darkest gray against the black sky, but he can’t be certain. “How much longer?”

“Three hours.” Steven groans and drops his head onto Andrew’s shoulder. Thankfully, the places where he drooled earlier are dry.

“I just want to be in our hotel. On an actual bed. With pillows.”

“Me too,” Andrew murmurs, pressing his mouth to the top of Steven’s head. The armrest between them is still pushed back into the upright position, and Steven slides over to the edge of his seat so that they’re touching from hip to knee. The air conditioning is a little too high, hum permeating the otherwise quiet cabin, but Andrew is unfairly warm, like always.

“How are the others doing?” he asks, closing his eyes again. Momentarily, Andrew shifts away, presumably so he can look over the seat at the row behind them, where Rie and Adam are sitting, but he returns quickly and presses his face right back into Steven’s hair.

“Fast asleep,” he replies. “Just like everyone else, I think.” One of his hands slides underneath Steven’s blanket and curls around his thigh, and Steven sighs happily. Andrew’s not big on public displays of affection, and while Steven absolutely respects that, knows that doing anything more than wrapping his arm around Andrew’s shoulders when they’re out and about is usually too much, it means that he lives for moments like this, when things are quiet, when it’s just the two of them in their own private sphere.

For a long time, they stay quiet and still, pressed against each other with nothing but the steady sound of Andrew’s breathing and the hum of the air circulation overhead to break the silence.

The next time Andrew speaks, Steven is on the verge of falling back asleep.

“Do you remember the last hotel we stayed at?” Andrew’s voice is a low rumble in his chest, barely above a whisper, and even before Steven fully comprehends what he said, a low flame of arousal starts flickering in his stomach.

Once the words fully sink in, that low flame kicks up a notch.

He remembers the hotel perfectly. It’d been in New York, a newer building on the edge of Chinatown with a shiny and gleaming exterior, an extremely finicky heating system, and spotty Wi-Fi. The water pressure had been less than optimal, and the room had been significantly smaller than he’d expected; once they’d loaded all their gear and suitcases in, there had barely been enough room for the two of them to move.

But what he remembers even more so than the actual physical features of the hotel is what happened there.

When they drew the blinds, the darkness in the room was so total that it felt like he was staring at the inside of his own eyelids. The too-soft mattress had dipped underneath his body when he’d fallen back against it, and the starchy sheets had dragged along his bare back once Andrew pulled his shirt off and threw it into the darkness, where it remained undiscovered until the morning. Andrew’s hands and mouth had dragged over every inch of Steven’s exposed skin, left behind burning trails that seemed to singe each of his nerves.

Even more so than all of that, he remembers the utterly overwhelming sensation of need and joy that had filled his very soul when Andrew took him into his warm, slick mouth for the first time.

“Yeah,” Steven answers belatedly, pressing his knee firmer against Andrew’s and swallowing heavily. “I remember.” Andrew sighs quietly, and his mouth slides down to rest at Steven’s temple.

“Do you want to do that again?” he asks, lips catching on Steven’s skin. “Once we’ve slept off some jet lag?”

For a moment, Steven forgets how to breathe. It’s not that he’s conflicted about how to answer (he definitely wants that, without a shadow of a doubt), but this is not a conversation he expected to have at thirty-five thousand feet in the air, at some totally incomprehensible time of night (or day). Even though there’s no one listening in (he can hear the people seated in front of them snoring softly, there’s no airline staff within sight, and the person across the aisle has an eye mask pulled down over the top half of their face), just having these kinds of thoughts around other people makes him feel like a kid caught with their arm wrist-deep in the cookie jar.

But, although he knows that all it would take to stop things in their tracks is a single word, he doesn’t want to stop. Not yet, at least.

He takes a deep breath to prepare himself before he says, turning his head so that their foreheads are nearly touching, “Maybe my memory isn’t as good as I thought. What exactly do you want to do again?”

For a brief moment, Andrew’s face stays still, but then the corner of his mouth ticks up in a slight smirk, and his hand tightens on Steven’s thigh. He remains quiet for a moment, and Steven bites his lip in anticipation, tries to hide his shudder when Andrew’s fingers gently skirt along the inseam of his jeans.

“Want to get you in bed,” he begins, a little raspy, unpracticed, which just makes more heat gather in Steven’s stomach, “and kiss your pretty neck from top to bottom.” He raises his free hand and traces one finger down the front of Steven’s throat, from just underneath his chin down to the slight hollow at the base, lingers there for a moment before he goes lower and outlines Steven’s collarbone through his shirt, taps it gently. “And I want to kiss these too. Maybe mark them up a bit, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah,” Steven whispers, nodding for emphasis. He knows exactly what Andrew’s blunt teeth feel like scraping against his skin, hitting the perfect spot between pain and pleasure, and he can’t help but lean into where Andrew’s fingertips are tracing along his collarbone. “What else?”

“Then I’m going to take my time with the rest of you,” Andrew continues. There’s a hint of pink high in his cheeks that Steven would press his mouth to, if he wasn’t too busy eagerly awaiting Andrew’s next words. “Gonna take my time with your ribs and your hips.” His fingers slowly trail down the center of Steven’s chest, and the touch burns through Steven’s shirt. Andrew’s fingers come to a stop at his waist, just above the line of the blanket, and Steven looks up from them and into Andrew’s eyes, just in time for Andrew to swallow and say, “I’m going to kiss you, over and over again, until you ask for more.”

“What if I don’t ask?” The words almost trip out of Steven’s mouth; he’s so utterly focused on the vivid mental picture Andrew is painting that the ability to speak is barely within his reach.

“Then I’ll just try harder,” Andrew answers solemnly, and Steven nearly dissolves.

“I believe you,” he says, licking his lips and not missing the way Andrew’s gaze drops down to his mouth. Doing his best not to stutter, he continues, “Are you gonna stop there?”

Andrew shakes his head and laughs once, the sound short and clipped.

“No, Steven.” His cheeks flush darker, and he leans in closer, until his mouth is resting on the shell of Steven’s ear. Goosebumps explode up the back of Steven’s neck, and anticipation flutters in his stomach, groans stronger and stronger with each silent second that passes between them. Finally, just when Steven thinks he can’t bear the silence any longer, Andrew clears his throat, scrapes his teeth along the tip of Steven’s ear and says, “I’m not going to stop until you come down my throat.”

Steven officially loses the ability to speak coherently.

“Andrew,” he groans softly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He’s hard and aching behind his zipper, and Andrew’s hand has, deliberately or not, slipped further up his thigh, into territory that’s definitely not appropriate for a public pace.

He’s never been interested in the concept of the mile high club (or, to be fair, sex in any kind of public or semi-public space); he has too many inhibitions, is too vividly aware of the potential consequences that could arise. Even thinking about it makes phantom humiliation rise in his throat.

But, all the same, there’s a part of him that wants to simply say screw it and drag Andrew off to the bathroom.

Before he can begin to weigh the pros and cons of doing just that, the plane suddenly rocks heavily, and his head painfully bumps against Andrew’s as the pilot comes over the intercom to warn them about an upcoming patch of turbulence.

“Damn it,” Steven sighs, backing away a few inches so that he can buckle his seat belt.

“Yeah.” Andrew laughs shakily and gives Steven’s thigh one last squeeze before he slides his hand out from underneath the blanket. “But it’s probably good that we stop.”

“Probably.” They hit another patch of turbulent air, thankfully less rough than the last, and once it smooths out, Steven continues, not sure how much time he’ll have before things get bumpy again. “But I want to do all of that. Everything you said. But there’s one stipulation.”

Andrew raises one eyebrow and smiles a little as he threads his fingers through Steven’s. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Cheeks flushed with heat again, Steven grins as he leans in, not close enough for their heads to bonk together again if the air gets rough, but close enough so that only Andrew will be able to hear him.

“I want to do all of that to you too. Especially that last part.”

A flush creeps over Andrew’s face and down to his jaw, and he swallows heavily before he squeezes Steven’s hand tightly.

“Okay. You can definitely do that.”

#standrew #mine #mine: fic #anyways here's this!#this was a lot of fun to write #and now to either go work on the allydia prompt Dev sent awhile back or my fic for this week's bfu writers discord challenge #which is also standrew

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nebula-starlight · 6 years

Text

Corrupt (Part 12 - Halves)

The darkness surrounded her, all too familiar to the corrupted soul as it echoed the lonely isolation she had known for centuries. She hated being alone but wondered if it was better off that way. The constant staticky hum she emitted would drive any sane individual crazy within hours... To her surprise and equal annoyance though was that her pitiful little host had yet to pick up on her return for several days now, only reacting whenever she failed to hide the pain that tore through her own head - a sign of the stirring entity she’d shoved aside not long after coming into being. The attack, for lack of a better term, had split her soul in half and caused the stronger negative emotions to become a separate consciousness that quickly overwhelmed whatever was left of the original persona. Recent events had somehow broken through her iron-clad control to begin rousing the lesser portion of her already weakened core.

Now while she could normally push away the echoes of memory that started her creation as the originally complete soul fractured, the times when she was alone only amplified the emotional pain she’d endured at that moment. Nether’s confrontation with her had divided what was once whole - creating a split in her persona. All the negativity had formed into the glitchy, corrupt entity she’d taken to calling Void while the small amount of positivity was shoved to the back of her mind. Whether it clung to their original name or not was none of her concern, her attention otherwise consumed by the desire for something to do else she feared she’d lose what little sanity she had.

Pestering her naive, former draconian host Naris only really seemed to work when she was awake and, unfortunately, it was currently the dead middle of the night. Void wasn’t even sure why she herself had woken, frustrated that she had nothing to occupy her time. So there she was stuck in the dark mulling over her past - an action she loathed nearly as much as the beast who caused her to become what she had. Yes she had memory problems on occasion but those were mostly caused by-

Static flared to life around her as she shrieked in a mixture of rage and pain, lighting up the dark interior of the mental prison within her host’s mind with jagged arcs of glitchy green strands of code. Sensing her distress was waking Narssia, Void struggled briefly to calm herself before lulling the former dragoness back into a blissful unconscious state with ease. Even with her possessive tendencies driving the act of self preservation, the glitch quickly realized as her presence infiltrated through the body that she hadn’t kept all the agony contained just to herself. In fact, judging by how tense the girl seemed, her split-second decision to possess her host hadn’t exactly been the best idea but she panicked, reacting in the only way she knew to get away from the growing tension she’d let fester for far too long. Ever since her return from Dark’s domain she would find herself occasionally getting headaches - which was typically uncommon for a spirit. Perhaps it was stress but, then again, maybe there was another cause she refused to properly address.

Grumbling under her breath as she sat up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, Void took a look around to properly understand where she was or, to be more precise, where her lovely little human vessel had been before she took control. Apparently she was on the couch in the living room given there was a door to her right that led into the kitchen and another door on the left that led out to the hallway which would end at either a set of stairs or the front door depending on which way she walked. Deciding on where to go, she threw back the sheet that had been over her and got to her feet, although the movement was certainly not steady.

Another spasm of pain shot through her head once she was fully upright, her fingers lifting almost subconsciously to her temple as she hissed under her breath in agony. She knew what it was but the knowledge didn’t make what she went through any easier. The sliver of positivity had to have been jostled from previous events... ultimately trying to get free no matter how much it hurt either of them.

She stumbled blindly into the kitchen, free hand trailing along the wall for stability as her body twitched slightly. Glitching wasn’t supposed to hurt but for some reason it only made the pain worse, now a blinding throb that threatened to make her black out with every beat of the possessed human’s heart. Her hand lifted from her head, inky trails stuck to her fingers that refused to leave as the sight of a unattended knife on the counter drew her attention towards the shine of moonlight upon the steel.

Void crossed the distance to the weapon from where she leaned against the wall, her bare feet tapping out a steady rhythm that seemed to help ease the constant waves of pain crashing into her. She would be grateful if the little ball of sunshine stopped trying to make her presence known. After all, sometimes it was all she could do to hide the darker truth while that pleasant shard tried to chip away at her possessive control. Growling under her breath, she grabbed the knife and turned around, feeling warm air brush across the back of her neck.

“Get out of my head,” she snarled into the open space, grip tightening on the blade before another pulse of white hot pain shot through her skull. “Go away, go away, go away!”

Almost immediately she was down on her knees, head cradled in her hands as the now abandoned knife fell to the floor beside her in a clatter. The memories... the moment she tried to keep hidden. Why was it plaguing her like this? Seeing the barrel of the gun... hearing Dark’s words as he manipulated her host into-

No, she couldn’t- wouldn’t go through that again! Gathering her strength, she lowered her shaking hands even though her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. She needed help, as much as it bothered her to admit it. Maybe she could find somewhere close by?

Trying to calm herself down, she focused on the energy around her, briefly lifting away from her host’s body to weave her ethereal presence through the clutter of industrial life until she found what she was after. There was a hospital not too far away and after a good look at the building’s exterior, she settled back in like nothing had happened before glitching out of the kitchen with a low staticky hum as her body seemed to shatter into millions of black and green particles.

Her head felt even worse when she came back together in front of the building she had pictured in her mind, the bright lights of the exterior searing her sensitive eyes. With a hiss she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, body glitching slightly in place with infrequent tremors. Whether it was intentional or not, she felt like she was going to be sick, unable to restrain the more chaotic aspects of her being as her eyes glowed a dull green.

It took all her focus just to walk forward, entering the building as the glass doors slid open. The space inside was large but surprisingly empty other than the desk set up against the wall with an older woman typing away at her computer. Void grunted, risking going blind by the lights above as she wrapped one hand around her other wrist, clenching her free hand into a fist as the tremors worsened. She knew how the body seemed to react negatively to her control - an unwelcome surprise upon her return but not entirely unexpected.

“Can I help you?” The woman at the desk asked, shifting her glasses down lower on the brim of her nose before turning her head towards Void when she didn’t respond.

She had intended to make her appearance known but another throb of her already aching skull sent her reeling, tilting her head to the side as a grimace darkened her features. Whether others could see the black tar like substance dripping from her temple she wasn’t sure but she honestly didn’t care in the moment, gaze sweeping wildly from side to side in distressed panic.

“Make it stop,” she croaked out, lightly touching the black substance oozing down one side of her face. “Just... makeitstop!”

The woman rose almost instantly, bringing out a device Void hadn’t seen before and spoke softly into it before approaching her. Another spasm gripped the glitch and she twitched violently, sinking to her knees as both hands rose to once again cradle her aching head. Strong but gentle hands grabbed her shoulders, the receptionist’s voice calmly reassuring her that help was coming as she whimpered softly. Apparently her earlier conversation had been to inquire of a wheelchair to be brought to the front and, judging from the sound of rushing footsteps that soon graced Void’s hearing, the order had been received and sent out.

She felt lost and distant from the situation as another hospital employee arrived with the chair and helped the receptionist get her into it, barely paying attention to the questions that passed between the two before she was being taken away. The noise was everywhere now, the dull, ever persistent hum that penetrated her brain and made her want to cry out for relief. As they ran across a small groove in the floor she slumped back in the chair, eyes open but dull and cloudy as they flickered between her normal green and a much softer yellowish hue. Words flew by her as she was pushed into a small dark room and the man who had come with the chair left, only for two girls to approach from the shadows and start talking. Subconsciously Void knew they were trying to get information from her but the words felt foreign, her senses overwhelmed by both the pain and the constant noise. When one of the girls tried to touch her, however, she snapped back to alertness.

The faint tendrils of her magic swirled to life in her chest, her gaze suddenly sharp and perfectly clear as she grabbed the offending hand with a low snarl rumbling from the back of her throat. Sharp talons tore into the frail skin, memories of seeing her own blood splattered upon the soft snow distorting what was real and tangible. Jerking back in alarm as her hand fell, Void started to speak but her voice failed her, dissolving into a hacking cough that surely sounded as though she was losing a lung as she turned to the side almost automatically.

“Steady her!” The girl who had not tried to comfort her snapped before two different pairs of hands reached for her, grabbing her and lifting her up.

The surface Void was placed on was cold and hard; her first instinct being to curl up on herself in exhaustion as her coughing fit started to calm slightly. She was so... tired. Why wouldn’t they let her sleep? Her beloved had let her sleep after he slit her throat... Red staining the beautiful white snow...

Bright lights suddenly turned on above her, the whir of a distant machine clashing with the still present staticky crackle around her. Red, she knew who it represented, didn’t she? Flinching back, she triedto further curl into a ball when the voice of one of the girls cut in sharply.

“Miss, do try to keep still for just a moment longer. I know it’s not the most comfortable but...”

The words faded away into noise as she blinked, tears gathering in her eyes as she caught a glimpse from the metallic table under her that her irises had returned to color shifting between green and yellow. She wasn’t alone in her head then. That little pest was back and she couldn’t make it go away. Why wouldn’t it leave her alone?

Minutes passed, seeming to take an eternity before the test finished and both girls picked her up to return her to the wheelchair. She heard mentions of a room number but found it difficult to keep her eyes open, head dropping slowly to her chest...

When Void jolted awoke next, she was laying in a hospital bed with several wires hooked up to her mostly naked body. Realizing the humans had seen the scars she carried brought out a low snarl from her throat that faded almost instantly to a choked whimper of fear. She never wanted to think about that again... not after what had been done to her by both the suave illusionist she’d trusted and then the monochromatic demon once she lashed out at his weak human host.

All the painful memories only caused her head to start throbbing again, although strangely more manageable than it had been all evening. She was alone in the room though and a glance out the window to her right told her that several hours had passed from the fact that sunlight now washed against the ivory white walls.

A sense of panic suddenly gripped her, worried that her disappearance would be noticed. She had to get out of this place! Feeling for her meager reserve of magic, she lifted a hand and watched as tiny sparks of green light flickered against her palm like miniature stars. There was no way she could teleport at the moment with how her head felt but maybe she didn’t need to...

Eyeing the clipboard at the end of her bed, barely visible through the railings, she turned her wrist gently, motioning for the metal to rise. It took several tries but she eventually got the object in her hands, glancing over the information listed on the paper as she read it out loud.

“Name unknown. Female. Age unclear but suspected to be mid-twenties.”

Her eyes darted over the listing of the scars long healed across her body but still shuddered, remembering the feeling of arctic-like wind pelleting her face for the briefest second before she snapped herself back to attention. Twitching her hand once more, she summoned a pen and scribbled down the first words to come to mind.

“Void Nox, age twenty five... Now that’s all the knowledge they’ll get f me. I think I translated Naris’s draconian age properly... I hope so at least.”

Void dropped the pen she held once she finished with a grimace, feeling her host start to stir from inside the depths of their shared head. That decided things for her then. She had to get back to where Mark stayed - no matter the cost. Her eyes closed, breathing slowing before her body burst into black and green particles once more.

Landing hard on the wooden floor knocked the wind out of her, barely starting to get up when she realized she was still primarily naked. Searching around the padded room, she spotted a blanket folded up on a nearby table and grabbed it, throwing it over her shivering form. Void knew the effect of using too much of her magic, how it made her sick to her stomach, but the cost was something she’d have to accept... or would she?

Deciding to allow the waking Narssia control once more, a devious smirk toyed at the edges of her mouth before Void slipped back into the darker recesses of her host’s mind. Who said she had to be the one that suffered for her mistake when she had a perfectly unaware scapegoat coming to alertness that could deal with the harsh recoil meant for the caster?

All she had to do now was sit back and watch.

#corrupt #corrupt void #oneshot

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wordsturnintostories · 7 years

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10/ Nothing in the Mirror

Masterlist

Summary: A lot can happen on a late spring day, especially on a bus. A lot more can happen if the ride ends before you’ve reached your station. If you end up in the Avengers Tower without memories, things have either taken a very good or a very bad turn of events. Too bad you have no clue who you are. Apparently, that’s not the case for everyone. Scarily, not all your secrets are hidden within your head, but you have two men by your side who swear to figure everything out with you.

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 1835

_Author’s Note: It’s because you just don't fall asleep after the last thought is finished. It happens all of the sudden, mid-sentence. Love you, @buckyslion, @aubzylynn and @borderline-person! To everyone else: Please, don’t be shy to ask questions about NitM or about the tags (I really don’t mind tagging you! :D). I’d love to hear what you guys think and what you liked best about this part (or the others). Please, don’t be shy. There’s so much love over here that I promise I’m gonna share with the brave ones that talk to me!

The day continued as planned, the two of you had paired up with Steve to check on an entire office level, searching for traces of the attack of the last day. Hundreds of employees had already returned, far too soon after the events, but their level was intact, there seemed to be nothing wrong there. Now, they swarmed around Steve, grateful for his appearance and hanging on his lips when he explained what had happened. You stood far away, in the back of the crowd. Although you had nothing to hide, you felt the urge to do exactly that. Behind you was the wall and before you Buck’s massive body. Good thing he’s got wide shoulders like that. They covered your frame entirely, cloaking you from suspicious glances. Buck himself didn’t seem to feel so comfortable with all the people around, he unconsciously tugged his left sleeve further down his left arm. Hiding even at home.

Suddenly, your mind pulled you away again, wandering over landscapes of thoughts repeating themselves in your head hundredfold. What was your home? Did you ever have to hide in your home? Memories appeared, memories of the first day when you spoke to Steve and Buck. When they comforted you. When you climbed down the tower’s façade and fought Natasha. You killed the ambassador. You were a murderer. Suddenly, the mumbling of the room quieted and the voices converged into a united whisper. Murderer, it whispered with a silent force creeping past your walls. Murderer. You let out a strangled gasp. A deep breath, hand on your chest. A murderer. You stepped back, hitting the wall, feeling the hard surface punch your skin. Slowly, you slipped away, searching for a room that was quiet, where the noise couldn’t reach you. The ground had been pulled away from underneath your feet and desperation claimed your head. Finally, you stumbled against a door that creaked open, leading your shaking body into a dark room. Not peaceful, but silent. Murderers don’t deserve peace. When the tears hit your cheeks, a shiver spread over your backside. The salty water felt like boiling tar, like it meant to burn through your skin and mar it in the ugliest way possible. Even in this little room, dark and quiet, exposed was all you felt. People had seen you. What if I had killed one of them? What if they already knew all about me? You could never see these people again, their boring eyes intent on seeing behind your outer layer. Damn, you couldn’t go back. You had killed someone. At that, a tingle crept into your hands and a tension built up in every single finger, like the muscles contracted, gripping something. Had you killed him like that? Had your fingers dug into his skin until air became a rarity for the man? Had you held cold steel against his temple? Had you pulled his body into a car?

Your side ached, right over the hip. It was a sharp pain; like a knife pressing into the flesh. You choked for air. The pain restricted your movements, but when your hand shot to the hurting spot, no blood. You groaned. Muscle memory. Within a second, your lower back had taken a hit as well, telling your mind that there was a slash wound when really only a scar met your fingertips. Sweat dripped down your neck. Buck’s fingers had been here too, you reminded yourself. His had been gentle, soothing, creating a soft want in you that you pushed away with the roll of an eye. When he was around, your head forgot to think about yourself, about what could’ve happened before. Somehow, his cheeks almost always carried a kind smile that transferred over to you. He was a flirt and it made you forget that these people kept you captive. But maybe that was all he was supposed to do. Could you really trust them?

You couldn’t go back, that was for sure. Your identity was a riddle, yes, and your only clue was that you’d killed the ambassador. Bile gathered in your throat. Your body ached everywhere, making it receptive to what your mind wanted you to do. The itch to disappear from here hadn’t subsided during the last days, you had just tried to suppress it. Tried. Natasha would know which ambassador you’d killed. If she hadn’t bluffed, which was a possibility as well. But you couldn’t do another fight just to find out what she knew, not now. Slowly, you cleared your head. There was no way to go back to Buck and Steve. They wouldn't understand. They treated you like family, like you belonged with them and that made you suspicious. Yes, maybe their story including the Second War War was true, although you bet it wasn’t since they enjoyed messing with you and to be honest, it sounded really ridiculous. But then again, Buck had a synthetic arm made of metal. But you were sure their kindness wouldn’t reach far if they knew who you really were. No normal person would. You were alone again. So your cold hand slowly reached for the door handle. Escaping this building was impossible without being seen. The door revealed an empty hallway. Your heart pounded heavy in your chest, it was too quiet. Where were all the people from before? But even after minutes of eerie silence, not one living being passed your room. They were all gone, you realized when stepping out. Also, it was dark now, only very few offices were still dipped into a dim light, their desk lamps hadn’t been turned off fully. An opportunity. The laptops seemed to call you like sirens, promising to give you what you really wanted. Information. Your feet had already carried you in front of one of the glass doors, conjuring up your reflection. It stared back at you innocently, but all you really saw was the emptiness behind the skin. Buck’s clothes still warmed your limbs. If you found out who you were and if you managed to run, you wouldn’t need them anymore. Another gesture of kindness you suddenly couldn’t stand anymore. If he knew. He wouldn’t look at you the same way. Not with blood dripping from your fingers.

Your sneakers made terrible squeaky noises in the hallway that connected all the offices. At this hour, no one was here anymore, so it was only you cringing every single time they connected with the ground, hoping that the cleaning staff had finished their job already. You couldn’t know who was sneaking around in this tower at night, besides you, of course. A sigh of relief clouded the glass in front of you. The office room you’d chosen for your research was locked, the door handle only pulling down half way. Sending a cautious look in both directions, you checked for other ways in, maybe for a room that connected with this office, but there was none. When you walked away, determined to find another office that would provide you with a good view into the hallway and that would be in close proximity to the elevators, you heard it. Something crunched and cracked. For a short moment, you stopped dead in your tracks, heart pounding fast, but you realized how uneven the ground was under your feet. You had stepped onto a pen that someone must’ve lost. Turning it around in your hands, you pulled out the color tube with a grin. Getting into a locked office wasn’t that hard when you had the right tools. After half a minute of fumbling around with the tube and the lock, you were in.

Against your expectations of being detected by entering the work place, nothing happened. The light stayed off, just like you hoped it would. Good. Whoever was looking for you, they wouldn’t find you here. Especially Buck. You wondered what he was doing right now, if he was checking the tower for you. Concentrate, you scolded yourself. You’re here for one job and you always get your jobs done. Your eyes widened. Slowly, the tingle reached your hands again. What was this? Was it another clue at your past? You shook it off. The screen of the computer gleamed at you with a harsh white glow so bright you had to cover your eyes. The constant darkness had required you to adapt your vision and now the light was overwhelming, almost blinding. When you opened your lids again, you could see more than just one screen wherever you turned. Stupid screen brightness. And then you just sat there, hoping you’d figure out how to get past the password before someone detected your location. Suddenly, the system made a little „whoosh“- sound. You almost shrieked but slapped a hand over your mouth. It took you a few seconds to get back to a completely calm state, but something about the room had changed. Soft classical music was humming from some kind of sound system, creating sweet melodies that instilled the office with a relaxed atmosphere. But it didn’t work for you, because you were on the edge of your chair, cursing under your breath. Had they found you? What kind of games were they playing now? You were well aware that this was a display of superiority, that they had the control over what happened, that they could monitor remotely. This was psychological warfare. But nothing happened. No guards, no voice in the ceiling, no nothing. Just you in a dark office. The music played and while you waited, holding your breath, the hallways stayed dark and silent. The screen had turned off long ago when you finally decided to go on. This time you just stared at the keyboard in front of you, trying to figure out what to type in. Your head was empty, it was no use. How do you crack the password of a person you don’t know? Suddenly, your fingers just started tapping against the different keys, feeling the low resistance and the mechanical movement of them, giving the classic music a rhythmic accompaniment that caused goosebumps to rise. And there you sat, typing and typing, faster than your mind could control. It just happened. And you had no idea what the words on the screen meant. It didn’t look like normal text. Your fingers typed programming, with commands and directives that were meaningless to you. After a few warning signs and more furious typing, new windows pulled open. Again, you weren’t sure what to do with that, but you continued, feeling the urge to get this done. To get this itch off your chest. No matter what would happen at the end of this, you would know who you were and you could leave. You shook the sleepiness off, forcing yourself to concentrate, to get this done. You could rest later. Various lists opened in front of you and you worked your way throu

Masterlist | Please let me know what you think about this chapter! Message me directly, use my Ask Box or comment/reblog!

Permanent Tags: @buckyslion, @aubzylynn, @inappropriatepirate, @buckysmusculararm, @coffeeismylife28, @mitra-k-w, @captainmomofoshosho

Tag list for NitM: @naenae87, @xllxni, @aquabrie, @canumoveyourseatup-no, @borderline-person, @avengingnights, @secretlypleasantlover, @harleyhiddleston, @bailieinabottle, @chipilerendi, @bibitchalicia, @blacwings-and-bucky-barnes, @aoimidzu, @ek823

#NothingintheMirror #NitM #bucky #reader #steve

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creativitytoexplore · 3 years

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[UR] Feel https://ift.tt/3vMdPpq

[Context: I'm no writer, just a highschool student, and this is my first ever attempt at writing a short story for my English class so any feedback or critiques would be greatly appreciated, thank you!]

From a rooftop view, the capital was dull and dismal. The people that Julio Castillo observed from above were busy ants or party animals; either way, behind each of them trailed a lingering big-city misery. It was the evening, but the grey, early autumn clouds forbade the citizens of Buenos Aires from watching a spectacular sunset. Julio couldn’t care. Nothing could excite him. Close to the city’s edge, he could see the polluted ocean some kilometres ahead of him, and behind him, a different ocean; one of endless skyscrapers, gradually diminishing in size but continuing up until the limits of the horizon. The building next to his was much taller, yet largely vacant, although through the window at his eyelevel shone a yellow but unfriendly light. From what he could see, it was someone’s apartment. Every few minutes a woman would walk past the window. She seemed occupied, and never noticed Julio staring in.

The city of fury saw no chance at slowing down, even as the day had come to an end. It was only a matter of time before someone told Julio that he wasn’t allowed to be where he was, and he knew he should make his way back down the fire escape. He didn’t want to. Playing voyeur and watching the world from his high perch almost let him breathe.

The woman in the window kept catching his attention. Her hair was long, thick and dark, but Julio couldn’t see her face. There was something about her movements, though, that seemed eerily familiar. Was it that she reminded him of his mother? At one point, he saw her talking to another man, perhaps a husband or lover. But the man promptly disappeared and the woman returned to her errands.

As midnight approached, the sky had become a charcoal blanket and the clouds were only visible by the intruding urban light. Although he had no destination, Julio made his way back down to the streets. The night-time rush should have overwhelmed him with anxiety, and in a way, it did. But what once would have been intense anxiety was converted into pure adrenaline: an elevated heartrate, a spinning head and the inability to understand his surroundings. Like he was drugged, but he wasn’t. Maybe he was. He didn’t know. The world around him was imperceptible, a haze of indistinct colours and noises. Few sounds stood out. Every now and then, the bark or yelp of a street mutt echoed through Julio’s head. Then, there was a clock, with its distant and rhythmic chimes, likewise an insomniac. Then a voice, talking to Julio. At first the voice was obscured, unrecognisable and robotic. Julio only knew that this person was talking to him. He didn’t care much, maybe he had bumped into a disgruntled stranger unknowingly, maybe it was a bothersome drunk. But as the voice persisted, it became clearer. It was feminine and soft-spoken. Julio began to concentrate, to force himself out of his constant trance, and see the figure, who she was and what her motives were. Squinting his eyes, she began to reveal herself before him. Dark hair, a made-up face. A red dress for some special occasion. Golden jewellery and high heels. It suddenly occurred to Julio that this was the woman he’d seen through the window.

“Julio, listen to me…”

The first words he registered were alarming.

“Say something. For God’s sake.”

Their eyes were locked. Hers were brown and engulfing.

The woman’s words were almost desperate, but her tone remained patient. Her voice was silky and somehow familiar.

“What do you want?” Julio creaked, sounding emotionless and disengaged.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

Julio didn’t say anything.

She was about to give up. Julio was insane, there was no use in trying.

“Wait,” Julio said, before the woman could leave. He was beginning to concentrate. The woman was familiar, too familiar. It was Paola. His ex-wife, 9 years divorced.

“Why are you here?” she said, sensing that Julio had finally recognised her. “I thought you were dead.”

“I might as well be,” Julio replied, bluntly.

“The first time I’ve seen you in a decade and you’re lurking outside my apartment. What are you doing, Julio?”

There was a hint of pain in her voice, but no anger.

“I didn’t know,” Julio said. “I thought you lived in Rosario.”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“No.”

“You aren’t well, please…”

“No.”

Julio was visibly frustrated, and Paola distressed. He turned his head to the side and had intentions of walking away. Paola’s figure merged back into a blur of indecipherable colours as she left Julio to his own madness, closing her apartment building’s door with an intentional delicacy to mask her upset; the kind of humbleness only a mother could possess.

In that moment, memories began to plague Julio’s mind. Cherry red lipstick, satin nightgowns, flirtatious glances and a hypnotising smile. Sultry nights of music, wine and rapture. Her statuesque figure and a face like Aphrodite. A woman whose kisses would heal Julio’s wounds, all those years ago. Then when she left him, they were torn open and drowned in acid.

After minutes, maybe hours, maybe days or years or centuries of walking, the port became the most inviting part of the city. The water bore the colour of tar, with a slight rainbow sheen on its surface catching the moonlight. Styrofoam cups, cigarette butts and rotting leaves bobbed and drifted, patrolling their territory. Julio found himself leaning over the concrete edge, searching for a reflection but finding only void. Feel something. The voice inside his head was shouting at him. Stimulation. He dipped his right forearm in first, taking in the piercing stabs of cold with full attention. Then, leaning in further, the water came up to his shoulder, rendering his whole arm numb. Next was himself. There was no thought process, no consideration nor reflection regarding what he was doing. He jumped and he was submerged; anaesthetised, yet the most awake he had felt in a long time. The image of Paola had fled.

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#June 03 #2021 at 04:44PM

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elder-dragon-bolas · 7 years

Text

Chapter 5: Behind the Walls

The spires of Zon rose far above Jace’s head, some even piercing the clouds. Surrounding him was the maelstrom of thoughts that was always surrounding him on the plane he called home, and their physical accompaniments walked all around him, bustling about their day, always somewhere to go. Merchants crowded the alleyway entrances and unoccupied walls, vending their ‘miraculous’ goods to any soul foolish enough to purchase them. Everything about the city reminded him of Ravnica, except that it was missing something — the ten guilds that controlled the City of Guilds were not represented in any way within this city, Zon, and strangely, Jace couldn’t tell if it was better that way or not.

Ahead of Jace walked the man who had greeted him, Edwin. A sense of unease floated around Jace when he looked at the man. No matter how hard he tried, he could not sense Edwin’s mind. It was not just a resistance to being probed, the mind simply was… not there.

“Try to keep up, Guildpact. There are some people I need to introduce to you, and while some of them are pacient, a few are… not quite so. That, and we still have a while of walking remaining. Time is not infinite.” Edwin quickened his pace.

(Guildpact? How does he know my title?)

Jace supposed that Edwin could have traveled to Ravnica. No need to be overly suspicious, right? This man was obviously powerful, and considering he had sent a missive across planes, he was probably a Planeswalker as well. Jace lengthened his strides to keep up with the man ahead.

To pass the time while they walked, Jace reached out to the thoughts of the common people around him, trying to attain a better understanding of the plane of Terran. He heard mundane thoughts of business deals and gatherings, but he also felt fears of what lay outside the city’s walls. His heart fell in his chest when he learned that Zon was the actual last city to exist on the plane of Terran, the rest of it surrounded by a massive forest that the city’s people referred to as the Hydrean. These thoughts continued to swirl around Jace, and eventually they became routine. After a while, though, Jace began to notice stranger, darker thoughts in a few select minds. Some were of strangers who had robbed their home in the night, a missing child, rumors muttered of a coming bloodshed. The most disturbing thought of them all was an image of a massive, dark-winged angel, its appearance varying greatly from thought to thought. Slowly, Jace began to understand that an underground cult existed in this city, but he could not come to understand its true agenda from the cityfolk’s thoughts alone.

“Edwin,” Jace asked, “are there… angels on Terran?”

The man stopped in his place, and looked slowly back at Jace before he began walking again. “No, Jace, there are none, but there are some who believe there once was. A faction known as ‘The Cult’ prays to a dark angel they call Zepada. Although they are dangerous, they are disorganized and have not had any major activity in a very long time.”

The pair continued walking in an awkward silence. Eventually, a massive white building came into view, and upon heading inside, Jace was greeted by a group of four men and one woman. The one who looked the oldest among them waved his hand in a greeting that he was obviously not used to using on this plane. Perhaps Edwin had instructed him to greet Jace that way.

“Welcome, Jace of Ravnica,” the man said. “My name is Benjamin, and my role here is to oversee the government of the Last City as well as its protection. Around me stand the trusted few that Edwin has gathered to meet you. They are all aware of what a Planeswalker is, and they all know a little bit about you and your home plane.”

Jace took a moment to survey the group before him. Benjamin had a kind and fatherly aura about him, yet from the massive sword strapped to his side, Jace could tell this man had seen through and survived dark times. The woman next to him looked like the most serious of the entire group, her skin the blue of all vedalkens. She reminded him of Lavinia. Behind the woman stood a tall man who had a medium-sized sword to the left of his waist, and a number of small scrolls tied to the right side. He wore a leather cloak and smelled of the massive forest Jace had walked through outside Zon’s walls. The last two stood on opposite sides of the group, and were angled so that they didn’t have to look at each other. Jace was tempted to view their minds, but decided to wait until they were done speaking. The one on the far left of the group wore boots of light material, telling Jace that he ran often for whatever his role was. The man to the far right smelled of soot, and some of his clothes were even visibly speckled with ash. He had a small smile on his face, though, and seemed like a humorous fellow.

The official-looking woman stepped forward and extended a hand to Jace, which he shook. “My name is Sarev,” the woman began. “I monitor Zon’s economy and legal issues — the busy work, you know? I’m really not sure why I’m needed here, as I have other matters to attend to — many other matters, mind you (here she looked at Benjamin) — but I will do my best to assist you in any way I can.” She stepped back into the group.

Next came forward the man on the far right. He clapped Jace on the back as he shook his hand, shocking him. “Name’s Greziel!” he exclaimed. “I burn things. Mainly leafy things.” When the man stopped talking, Jace looked at him confusedly, hoping for more of an explanation.

When that explanation didn’t come, Benjamin laughed. “Greziel handles the burning of dangerous areas of the Hydrean, allowing for us to reclaim a little bit of the world we’ve lost to the Wood. Our Expedition Unit and Trailblazers locate and mark key areas of the Wood and mark them, then Greziel and his exterminators burn them.”

“Speaking of the Expedition Unit,” the tall man behind Sarev said, “My name is Amriel. I lead the scouts of the Expedition Unit to explore the lands that Zon will one day reclaim.” Amriel shook Jace’s hand respectfully.

Finally, the man to the group’s far left spoke. “Nikolai,” he said. He did not shake Jace’s hand.

“And I, Jace, am Edwin.” Jace turned to face Edwin, who had not moved from his right side. “The people of Zon call me the Time Sage. I am the reason that Zon is not overwhelmed by the Hydrean. My power creates a temporal field around the city, reducing the beasts and wild elves who try to enter the city into specks of dust, aging them by centuries within an instant.”

Jace looked at Edwin with a new awe.

“Well, then,” Edwin continued, “I suppose it is now time for us to make our departure. There is something I must show you in order for you to understand this plane’s predicament.”

As Edwin turned to leave, Nikolai took a step forward and placed his hand on Jace’s shoulder’ surprising him. The man leaned in and whispered with conviction in his tone, “I know about your mind powers, Beleren. Know this - they don’t know. Do not tell them.” Nikolai released his grip, and Jace turned, walking away confused. Interested now, Jace telepathically reached out to the minds of the group behind him, and what he found shocked him.

In Sarev’s mind, he found the piles and piles of documents he had expected, but looking deeper, into her subconscious, Jace found memories deep below the surface, ones she had tried to push away. He saw nightmares, and he saw strange figures appear in her room at night, making strange threats. Jace considered looking deeper, but of course, there were four more minds to search through.

Next he looked through the minds of Greziel and Benjamin. He saw fire and bloodshed, he saw valor and anger, but throughout all of these memories, he kept seeing one person — Nikolai. He saw Benjamin, looking at a young, young child who barely resembled Nikolai. He saw Greziel laughing with Nikolai, then yelling at him. He saw a woman he had never seen before, there for a second and then gone.

Amriel’s mind was filled with maps and charts of the Hydrean Wood. He saw Amriel training new scouts, and he felt his concern for them. He saw leering beasts and fighting scouts, marked locations and forgotten groves. The expedition leader seemed to be the most authentic of all of the group from face value alone.

And then, at last, he turned his powers to Nikolai, and was instantly hit with a massive wave of pain, and then a current of sympathy washed from his own mind. Nikolai was a Planeswalker, too, and also like Jace, his sparking had been tragic even by Planeswalker standards. He saw a young Nikolai disappearing from an unfamiliar plane, chased by horrific, tar-and-metal monsters, and then he saw him reappear within the Terran wood. Above him stood an older figure; the ruler of Zon himself. Benjamin reached out a hand to the child, and suddenly the memory shifted…

Nikolai was by Greziel now, carrying out some kind of mission of burning. They worked together like brothers, their every movement in sync. He saw another scene, the two young men talking to a beautiful girl, and later, once she had left, arguing over her. They fought, yet still their friendship remained as strong as ever. And then, everything went wrong.

He saw a gorgon slide out from the shadows in a place he did not recognize. He saw Nikolai and Greziel, surrounded by a host of mutated amalgamations, the mutilated corpses of their comrades cast about the room. He saw their stalwart determination turn to panic as the gorgon brought forward a chained figure; the woman they had fought and loved. He saw them charge, and he watched as the gorgon slit her throat.

He felt Nikolai’s scream of pain, and he heard Greziel’s scream of vengeance, calling to Nikolai to help him cut down the gorgon. He saw the betrayal burn brightly in Greziel’s eyes as Nikolai’s body dissipated out of existence in a massive pillar of red light. He felt Nikolai’s confusion as he tried to stay on Terran, and Jace realized that he and Nikolai shared something in common; but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Nikolai had not known that he had crossed planes before since he had been so young. It reminded Jace of something, somehow, lost within memories he no longer had.

Jace Beleren never realized that quiet tears had began to flow down his cheeks.

Before him and Edwin could reach the exit, though, a panting viashino clothed in light armor rushed into the room, yelling for them to wait. “I have an important message from the West Gate Guard!” she exclaimed. “An elven girl approached them today, completely unarmed, and instead of attacking, she told them that the Hydrean has organized itself as a massive force, and that they have a hydra bigger than anything we’ve ever seen.”

Everyone in the room shared a glance. The things that had prompted Edwin to call Jace to Terran were about to become reality.

Benjamin was the first to speak. “Sarev, notify the four Cardinals. Have them organize the entirety of our military.”

Sarev looked shocked, inquiring, “But won’t Edwin’s shield be enough to stop them?”

“You know the futures the Time Sage has seen. We can take no chances.” The voice of Zon’s ruler was grim, and Sarev nodded without further debate, walking as quickly as possible while remaining businesslike. Benjamin turned now to address the viashino messenger. “Is the elf still outside? I will meet with her.”

The viashino paused for a moment. “No, sir. She… she was able to step inside the field.”

Benjamin’s eyes widened in shock. “Amriel, have other elves been able to step inside? Have you seen any recent reports with similar incidents?”

Shaking his head, Amriel responded, “No. Just an hour ago a small group of border elves tried to attack a novice scouting group, but they weren’t able to follow them past the field of safety once the group retreated, and believe me, they were definitely trying.”

“Then this girl must be very important,” Benjamin inferred. “I will go to meet with her at West Gate. Greziel, prepare the exterminators for defensive combat, and Nikolai, alert the outpost messengers of the situation. I’m sure the castles will be attacked before the city. Edwin, take Jace to the fountain and truly catch him up to speed.”

The remainders of the group left the room at once.

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

Edwin had led him to the center of the city, into a strangely placed alleyway, and down a flight of stairs it would’ve taken Beleren hours to notice on his own. Birds had seemed to watch them closely throughout the entire journey, making Jace’s hair stand on end. As the pair passed through a set of white double doors, they slammed shut behind them, and Edwin turned to Jace. “This is as far as I go,” he let out, and disappeared.

In a sudden panic, Jace turned to the doors behind him, but they would not open.

Collecting himself, he took the entire situation into the account and thought logically. When the answer came to him, it seemed far too obvious. The reason he couldn’t see Edwin’s mind was because he was searching for a mind where an illusion stood, a familiar sent by Edwin to bring Jace here, perhaps for reasons of… personal safety? Pondering the reason the Time Sage hadn’t come in person, Jace headed down the long flight of stairs, deeper and deeper underground.

Finally, he came to a square fountain basin, a pillar topped by a diamond shape in its center. Jace heard the sound of tired footsteps, and he turned to see a man walking towards him. The cloak he wore was shades of smeared red and blue on a backdrop of worn white, and he looked a few centuries old.

“Edwin?” Jace guessed with uncertainty in his voice.

“Yes, it is me.” Edwin smiled. “I am sure you have deduced by now that an illusion of myself was sent to gather you. I am sure that you realize I took a bit of artistic license with the illusion’s appearance, but no matter. Hah.” Edwin walked forward until he was about a foot away from Jace, and then sat down on the chamber’s cold ground.

“Why are you here, and why do you look so… under the weather?” Jace asked, deciding to replace ‘frail’ with a kinder word. “And what is the reason you called me here?”

“I suppose explanations are in order. Well, Jace Beleren, magic strong enough to shield an entire city is not easy to come by, even for a Planeswalker. To protect the city, I must give up my energy, transmitting it from under the city’s very center. I have not left this room ever since Zon became Terran’s final large sanctuary, and I hopefully never will.” Edwin’s smile turned bittersweet.

“But, what about when…?”

“Death? I am not quite human anymore, boy. Not another species, not something necessarily greater, but something very different indeed. When you play with time for as long as I do, it does strange things to you.”

“And for just how long have you been playing with time, Edwin?”

“Do you know what the Mending is? Perhaps so, perhaps you don’t. It would take too long to explain, anyway - just know that I’m very, very old. It’s the old Planeswalkers you really have to watch out for.” As Edwin said the words, Jace thought of Ugin, the spirit dragon who had been completely apathetic to the loss of life as long as it meant he could continue studying the Eldrazi remaining on Zendikar. “Yes, I have been here a long time, and I will not leave. You, however, can, and according to my visions, you are crucial to the completion of the incredible task ahead, which will save not only this city, but the entirety of Terran.”

“Elaborate?”

“You know of the siege coming to Terran.” At this, Jace nodded. “But there is something more at work. The Cult I told you of is planning something, and I wish I knew exactly what it was, but my power refuses to enlighten me. All it tells me is that you are necessary in stopping their plot.”

“If this task is so difficult, there are others I can have assist me, you know,” offered Jace. “I have a group of people who are starting to get the hang of this sort of plane-saving thing.”

“A pyromancer? A necromancer, a soldier, an elf too? If you value their lives, you will not call him. I have seen futures where they arrive, and believe me, they do not end well.”

“What? You’re telling me you know, one hundred percent, that if they come and help me, they’re done for? How can you possibly know that, and how could it possibly be true? I know these people… well, sort of know them. They’re capable.”

The Time Sage looked Jace Beleren dead in the eyes. “Jace, take it from me. There are some situations that can be avoided, but once initiated, cannot be escaped. My talent lets me understand these situations, and for some reason, fate seems to want only you here, as if you are crucial to solving some puzzle only you can see. Fate will not take no for an answer, and although it offers many branches in some circumstances, in others it has only a stump for you to take. It is life’s final decider.”

Jace sighed, frustrated, and reached out to the real Edwin’s mind. What he found was quite literally a thousand times more than what he had expected, so many more years of knowledge than he had ever felt, and not just that, it was as if his mind was not one but hundreds of different minds. Gasping, Jace stepped back, and Edwin laughed.

“Yes, Jace,” he chuckled, “I am very old. Not only that, but I don’t exactly exist. At least, I don’t exist in a conventional sense. I exist in, er… let’s just say too many existences. It’s rather complex, but think of me being a cumulation of every possible decision that makes a change. Is that too complex? Maybe it is. No, I’m sure you understand.”

Beleren stared blankly, a massive headache forming at his temples, earning another laugh from Edwin.

“Well, don’t stand with your jaw hanging open all day. We need to discuss just how you’re going to save the world.”

#mtg #magicthegathering #mtgtrn #terran #mtgterran #customset #trnlore

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