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mononijikayu · 2 months

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ghost of you — geto suguru.

In his dreams, he would see you adorned in your Jujutsu uniform, the epitome of elegance and grace as you moved with a fluidity that mesmerized all who beheld you. Each time, it’s like that day he met you, Shoko and Satoru all over again. How kindly you smiled at him. Greeting him with every sense of wonder. Nothing could compare to the way your face lit up with a radiant glow whenever you caught sight of him and Satoru, your eyes alight with an adoration that spoke volumes of the love you held for them both. The adoring gazes of those who surrounded you, drawn to the magnetic allure of your presence, only served to amplify the aura of warmth and joy that surrounded you wherever you went.

GENRE: Hidden Inventory Arc - JJK 0, 2006/2007 - 2017;

WARNING/s: Angst, Romance, Pining, Grief, Mourning, Death, Depiction of Trauma, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Blood, Depiction of Corpses, Depiction of Injury, Depiction of Curses, Depiction of Dreams and Nightmares, Reminiscing, Language;

masterlist

listen: ghost of you by my chemical romance

note: this is how im dealing with my failings in class. im sick too but i wanted to cry, so i wrote this!!! ramadan mubarak to those celebrating!!! i love you all!!!

HE THINKS THAT HE’S ABOUT TO LOSE HIS MIND. Night after night, Geto Suguru found himself ensnared in the clutches of a restless sleep, his subconscious a battleground where turmoil reigned supreme. Sleep, once a sanctuary from the trials of the waking world, had become a rare and fleeting commodity for him. Each night, he descended into the depths of slumber with a weariness that weighed heavily on his weary soul.

But even in the refuge of sleep, there was no respite from the torment that plagued his restless mind. As he drifted into the realm of dreams, he was met with a relentless onslaught of visions that offered no solace, no reprieve. The awakening, when it inevitably came, was always abrupt, tearing him away from the illusory tranquility of his dreams with a merciless force.

With each night that passed, Suguru's weary eyes would flutter open, revealing puffy lids stained with the remnants of tears shed in the throes of sleep. The contrast between the serenity of his dreams and the harsh reality of his waking world was stark, a cruel reminder of the tumultuous nature of his existence.

His heart, a relentless drumbeat in the silence of the night, served as a constant reminder of the vivid images that lingered in his mind long after the dream had dissipated. The dreams felt real, tangible, as if he could reach out and touch the ephemeral figures that inhabited them. And you, in particular, felt more real than ever before, a spectral presence that haunted his every thought.

In his dreams, you were within his grasp, your presence a beacon of warmth and vitality that seemed to defy the confines of mortality. Your smile, so vibrant and alive, illuminated the darkness of his subconscious with a radiance that pierced through the shadows of his restless mind.

But alongside the fleeting moments of solace came the nightmarish visions that haunted him without fail. The memory of Toji Fushiguro, the man who had wrought untold devastation upon your life, upon his life, lingered like a malevolent specter in the recesses of his mind. It was that man that had robbed him of life. The image of Toji's vicious gaze as he looked upon your lifeless form, a cruel reminder of the brutality of fate, haunted Suguru's dreams with an unrelenting intensity.

He called your name over and over.

He watched you turn your back at him.

Each time, his heart seeps with horror.

“Suguru, get out!” You rush from the entrance, getting his attention. His eyes blinked before he could even react. He looks at you, with your disheveled look, exhausted from keeping the entrance safe. “Now!”

Your desperate cry pierced through the chaos, urging him to run, to escape the impending danger. But he was frozen in place, his muscles refusing to respond to the command of his racing mind.

He could see the determination etched into your features as you rushed towards the young girl, summoning your own cursed creatures in a futile attempt to protect her. But in the face of the Sorcerer Killer's relentless speed, your efforts seemed futile.

Time slowed to a crawl as Suguru's heart pounded against his chest, each beat echoing the terror and helplessness consuming him. He screamed your name, reaching out to you with a desperation he had never known before. But his movements were sluggish, as if he were trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn't wake.

Amanai Riko's screams echoed in the air as you wrapped your arms around her, shielding her from the impending danger. Suguru's breath caught in his throat as he watched in horror, knowing that he was powerless to stop the inevitable.

The sound of gunfire shattered the silence, the bullets tearing through the air with deadly precision. Two shots rang out, each one a death knell that reverberated through Suguru's soul.

Blood sprayed into the air, painting a macabre tableau of violence and despair. Your body convulsed as the bullets found their mark, your once-vibrant eyes now vacant and lifeless. You choked on your own blood, your ghostly visage haunting Suguru's nightmares for years to come.

Even in your final moments, you clung to Riko, offering what little comfort you could in the face of such senseless brutality. But it was a futile gesture, as both your bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless and broken, a stark reminder of the cruel reality of their world.

“Okay, job’s done.” The dark haired man retorts, walking towards Suguru with a nonchalant look on his face. Nothing made him more angry, he thinks. Nothing in him was more devoid of life than in that moment.

He stares at both of you and Riko.

He takes a breath.

He turns to the man.

“Why are you here?” was all he could muster out of him, his dark purple pupils dilated in bitter anguish as you laid there, lifeless, the girl you were so desperate to protect, still wrapped around your cold, blood arms.

“Oh, that.” The man grinned back at him, scratching his head with his armed hand. “That’s simple. Because I killed Gojo Satoru.”

He wasn’t sure what else to do.

His rainbow dragon summoned.

His cursed energy bursted out of him.

His glare was pulsing with hatred.

“I see.” He says ever so bitterly, coldly. “Then die!”

Each dream began with your warmth enveloping him, igniting a fire within his soul that burned with a fervor unmatched by anything in the waking world. Your vibrant presence, etched into the very fabric of his being, illuminated the darkness of his subconscious with a radiance that defied the confines of mortality. Every detail of your existence was etched into his memory with an indelible permanence, a testament to the profound impact you had on his life.

Nothing could compare to the way your face lit up with a radiant glow whenever you caught sight of him and Satoru, your eyes alight with an adoration that spoke volumes of the love you held for them both. The adoring gazes of those who surrounded you, drawn to the magnetic allure of your presence, only served to amplify the aura of warmth and joy that surrounded you wherever you went.

You had a gift, a rare ability to make everyone around you feel like life was worth living, each and every time you graced them with your presence. You breathed life into every room you entered, infusing it with a sense of vitality and purpose that was as intoxicating as it was irresistible. And to Suguru, you were the embodiment of that beauty, a vision of unparalleled grace and elegance that left him breathless with longing.

But beneath the surface of this idyllic tableau of love and adoration lay a deep well of sorrow and longing that threatened to engulf Suguru's fragile heart. Because every dream ended with the same way. His guilt eating up and him. Every dream ended with you losing your life, with him losing you. And him, being too slow, too useless, too careless. The pain in his chest was palpable as he watched you over and over, knowing that you were no longer his to cherish. You haunted him, continually.

But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because you weren’t here with him.

All he could do was let him be haunted.

All he could do was let himself mourn.

All he could do was see the ghost of you.

HE DIDN’T REALIZE THAT HE HAD CURSED YOU. In the depths of Suguru's heart, a relentless denial gripped him with an iron fist, refusing to accept the crushing reality of your absence. He couldn't comprehend how he managed to carry on, nor could he grasp the reason behind his persistent refusal to acknowledge the truth. Yet, in the recesses of his soul, he harbored an unwavering certainty that you were still with him, your presence lingering like an indelible imprint on his consciousness.

The mere thought of your demise was inconceivable to Suguru, a notion he vehemently rejected with every fiber of his being. Even as he cradled your lifeless form in his arms, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like an insurmountable burden, he couldn't fathom a world without you breathing, without your laughter filling the air.

The memory of that fateful moment, when the sound of clapping mingled with the echo of your blood staining the pavement, haunted him relentlessly. It was a nightmare he couldn't escape, a grim reality that overshadowed every waking moment, gnawing at the edges of his sanity.

Even when he stood before Satoru, who held the lifeless body of Amanai Riko in his arms, the juxtaposition of death and despair surrounding them like a shroud, Suguru's mind rebelled against the notion of your absence. The image of your mangled face, revealed to Shoko as she trembled with unspoken grief, pierced Suguru's soul like a dagger, a stark reminder of the cruel fate that had torn you away from him.

But amidst the suffocating grip of denial, there lingered a beacon of solace – the memory of the day before, when both of you stood by the sea, basking in the warmth of each other's company. That precious moment played on an endless loop in Suguru's mind, a sanctuary of peace amidst the chaos of his shattered reality, a reminder of the love and joy you brought into his life.

In the tumultuous depths of his soul, Suguru clung to that memory with unwavering resolve, refusing to let go of the hope that one day, somehow, you would return to him, breathing life back into his shattered world.

That serene afternoon spent in your company felt like an eternity, a timeless moment etched into Suguru's memory. He could still recall the sensation of the sun's warmth enveloping his skin as he lay with his head nestled in your lap, the rhythmic motion of your fingers gently combing through his hair like a soothing melody.

The gentle caress of the wind against the backdrop of the sea created a symphony of tranquility, a scene of unparalleled beauty that seemed to exist outside of time itself. In that moment, there was no past or future, only the present, filled with the warmth of your love.

"You know," You teased, your playful grin lighting up your features, "You're lucky I'm not like Satoru. Otherwise, I might just shave your head when you fall asleep like this."

Suguru chuckled, his eyes still closed as he basked in the comfort of your presence. "You wouldn't dare. You love my hair too much."

Your laughter was like a sweet melody, a harmonious blend of joy and affection that resonated in Suguru's soul. "You caught me," You admitted, your fingers continuing their gentle movements through his hair. "I couldn't bear to part with those luscious locks of yours."

“Hm, it's why I maintain it for you.”

“Liar, you maintain it for yourself.” You retorted back at him, teasingly. “Well, other than that, for your boyfriend, Satoru.”

Opening his eyes, Suguru met your gaze, captivated by the love and warmth that radiated from your eyes. "You're one of a kind, my love," he murmured softly, reaching up to intertwined his fingers with yours. His chest rambling with laughter. “Satoru wouldn’t oppose those words, I like to think.”

You grinned back at him. “No, he’d be very flattered.”

He smiled, squeezing your palm. “Too bad you already captured me, my love.”

"And you're stuck with me," You replied with a mischievous grin, gently squeezing his hand. "For better or for worse."

"And for bitter or for worse, too," Suguru vowed solemnly, his voice filled with unwavering determination. “You and me.”

Your laughter echoed in the air, a symphony of happiness that danced around them. "That's a promise, hm?"

"It is!" Suguru affirmed, a smile spreading across his face as he felt a surge of warmth fill his heart. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your love and the echo of your laughter, he knew that he’d fall in love with you, over and over again.

In the aftermath of the tragedy that had torn you away from him, Suguru clung to your lifeless body with a tenacity born of desperation. He couldn't bear the thought of surrendering you to the authorities, not even to Shoko, who trembled with sorrow as she stood before him, her eyes filled with unspoken grief.

Instead, Suguru laid your body down gently on your dorm bed, heedless of the blood stains that marred the once-peaceful sanctuary where you had shared countless intimate moments together. "You belong here," he murmured softly, his voice choked with emotion, "Safe and far from harm."

For days, Suguru remained by your side, tending to your lifeless form with a tenderness that belied the anguish raging within him. "I'll take care of you," he whispered, his fingers tracing the contours of your face as if trying to etch your features into his memory forever.

As Satoru arrived, his usually jovial demeanor replaced with a heavy cloak of grief, Suguru's facade of stoicism cracked under the weight of his anguish. His heart, already battered and bruised, seemed to shatter into a million pieces as he watched Yaga and Shoko carry your lifeless body away, leaving him alone with the echo of his torment.

"How could you let this happen?" Suguru's voice rang out, filled with a rawness that cut through the air like a knife. Each word was laced with a pain so profound that it seemed to reverberate through the room, echoing the depths of his despair.

Satoru's response was a whispered apology, his voice heavy with guilt and sorrow. The weight of his words hung in the air like a tangible presence, a silent acknowledgment of the mistakes made and the lives lost as a result.

“Suguru,” Satoru began, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes reflecting a myriad of complex emotions. But amidst the sorrow and regret, Suguru could see the unmistakable glimmer of guilt that lingered in his best friend's gaze. It was a guilt that cut deeper than any blade, a burden that Satoru carried with him like a heavy chain around his neck.

The apology hung in the air, a fragile thread that seemed to stretch and strain under the weight of their shared grief. Suguru's heart ached with the weight of it all, the pain of loss and betrayal mingling together in a tumultuous storm of emotions.

In that moment, as they stood amidst the wreckage of their shattered lives, Suguru realized that forgiveness would not come easy. The wounds were too fresh, the pain too raw. But buried beneath the layers of grief and anger, there remained a glimmer of hope – a flicker of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

Satoru's shoulders sagged under the weight of Suguru's accusation, his usual confidence crumbling in the face of his friend's anguish. "I... I don't know, Suguru," he admitted, his voice wavering with emotion. "I thought we had everything under control. I never imagined..."

Suguru's gaze bore into him, a mix of disbelief and sorrow etched into his features. "You never imagined?" he repeated, his voice hollow with pain. "You promised me you'd keep my love safe, Satoru. You promised."

Gojo Satoru's eyes mirrored the grief that threatened to consume Suguru. "I know," he whispered, his voice choked with sorrow. "I know, and I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I would give anything to go back and change it, Suguru. Anything."

The room fell silent, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. Suguru's heart ached with a longing for the past, for a time when you were still alive and everything felt right in the world. “Apologies....it wouldn't bring Riko-chan....it wouldn't bring my love back. It wouldn’t bring them back.”

“I know.” His best friend responded back to him, his eyes lowering down to the pavement. “I know.”

He just let Suguru cry.

And he just held him.

But he knew it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

As the days turned into weeks, the weight of grief and loss pressed down on Geto Suguru like an unrelenting force of nature. Surrounded by the very space that bore witness to a lifetime of shared memories between him and you, Suguru found himself drowning in bitterness and despair.

But his anguish only deepened when he discovered the truth – that your death, and the death of Amanai Riko, had been in vain. The realization that your sacrifices had been rendered meaningless, that another Star Plasma Vessel existed and remained to be found, fueled the flames of his anger and resentment.

Your deaths were not just tragedies; they were senseless, cruel acts of fate that left Suguru grappling with the unbearable weight of injustice. The quiet anger that simmered beneath his grief now boiled over, consuming him with a fiery intensity that threatened to consume everything in its path.

He was angry – angry at the world, angry at fate, angry at himself for not being able to protect you. He was bitter – bitter at the cruel twist of fate that robbed him of a future with you, bitter at the injustice of a world that could take away something so precious with such callous disregard.

In the midst of his despair, Suguru found himself grappling with a profound sense of loss – not just the loss of you, but the loss of the life they could have had together. It was a wound that cut deep, leaving him scarred and broken, forever haunted by the specter of what could have been.

"I can't do this without you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as he traced the outline of your bed with trembling fingers.

Amidst the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume him, Suguru clung to a memory that flickered like a solitary flame in the blackness of his despair. It was a memory of a night shrouded in chaos and bloodshed, a night when he had unleashed the full force of his cursed power upon a village that dared to defy him.

In the midst of the carnage, as screams echoed through the air and flames licked at the sky, Suguru found himself face to face with a man brandishing a dull blade, his eyes filled with a murderous rage. It was a scene straight out of his nightmares, a reminder of the violence and destruction that had become his reality.

But then, amidst the chaos and despair, he saw you – a specter of the past, with eyes as cold and dead as the winter night itself. In that fleeting moment of recognition, Suguru reached out to you, his hand trembling with a desperation he could not conceal.

"I need you," he whispered into the void, his voice thick with emotion. In that moment, he realized that even in death, you would always be there to defend him, to stand by his side through the darkest of times.

In the depths of his despair, Suguru's mind replayed the events of that fateful night with agonizing clarity. The memory of your sudden appearance, like a specter from the past, haunted him relentlessly, its impact both comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

As the man raised his blade, a glint of malice in his eyes, Suguru watched in stunned disbelief as you intervened, your ethereal form moving with an otherworldly grace. Tears streamed down your face, a silent testament to the grief and anguish that engulfed you both.

In that fleeting moment, as your cold hand met his trembling one, Suguru was overcome by a torrent of emotions – grief, longing, and a profound sense of loss. But amidst the chaos and turmoil, there was also a glimmer of hope – a belief that even in death, your presence would guide him through the darkness, offering solace and strength in the face of unimaginable hardship.

You couldn’t speak, your voice silenced by the cruel hand of fate. Yet in that moment, words were unnecessary. Your mere presence was enough to soothe Suguru's tormented soul, offering him a lifeline amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Because you were here, tangible and real, your touch and gaze a balm to his wounded spirit. In that moment, nothing else mattered – not the burning village, nor the screams of the innocent, nor the sorrow that engulfed them both. Only you, alive and with him, mattered.

"Welcome home, my love," Suguru whispered to you, his voice barely above a whisper, his touch gentle as he brushed your hair out of your face. In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of their shared past, Suguru found solace in the simple act of being with you, his anchor in a sea of chaos and despair.

He regretted nothing.

Not this moment.

No, not even you.

Never you.

HE HAD NO REGRETS, NOT EVEN BY THE END.You watched from the shadows, your ethereal presence a silent observer in the midst of the unfolding drama. Suguru had never wanted you near the battle. He had kept you out of it. But he supposed, as you dwelled through the walls, familiar to the cursed echoes of your mind—you were just returning home.The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows over the desolate landscape. As the first rays of dawn began to paint the horizon with streaks of gold and orange, the world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

Your eyes, cold and ghostly, flickered with an otherworldly intensity as you surveyed the scene before you. Two figures stood facing each other amidst the quiet stillness of the night – one bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the other shrouded in the darkness of the shadows. Geto Suguru leaned against the familiar wall, his form hunched over in pain as he clutched his armless shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers in a steady stream. Despite the agony etched into his features, he remained steadfast, his resolve unyielding even in the face of death.

You blinked, your expression inscrutable as you watched Suguru's suffering unfold before you. There was a sense of detachment in your gaze, as if you were merely a spectator to the tragic spectacle playing out before you. The sun began to lower, its golden rays piercing through the darkness with a gentle warmth that belied the chaos of the moment. The world seemed to slowly descend to the slumber, the birds flying past as they chased against the shadows eating away into darkness.

And yet, amidst the beauty of that blue hour, there was an undeniable sense of foreboding in the air. This was not how he was expecting to go, but he supposed he had no other way but to live through it, with what he had left. The silent standoff between the two figures spoke volumes, a silent testament to the turmoil and conflict that raged within their hearts.

You stood silently, your presence a silent sentinel amidst the chaos, your eyes never wavering from the scene unfolding before you. As Suguru and the other figure faced each other in a silent battle of wills, you remained a silent witness to the unfolding drama, your ghostly eyes reflecting the weight of the world on your shoulders.

"You're late, Satoru," Suguru let out a voice tinged with resignation and a hint of bitterness.

Satoru Gojo stood before them, a towering figure even in the midst of turmoil, his usual blindfold gone to reveal the intensity of his gaze. His eyes, unobscured by the fabric that usually concealed them, bore into Suguru and the ethereal figure standing beside him, a silent testament to the gravity of the situation unfolding before them.

As Suguru and Satoru faced each other, a silent exchange passed between them, Satoru's expression remained stoic yet filled with an unspoken sorrow. It had been so long since he had last seen the figure beside Suguru, and this was not the reunion he had envisioned. But there was no surprise in his gaze, no hint of shock at the sight before him. He had long ago come to accept the unexpected twists and turns of fate, the unpredictable nature of love and loss.

Every essence of love, Satoru knew, carried with it a burden of its own – a weight that could either uplift or crush the soul. His love for Suguru, his steadfast friendship that had endured for nearly a decade, had been his anchor in the storm, the guiding light that had sustained him through even the darkest of times. And he was certain that Suguru's love for the figure beside him, ever-present yet so tragically unfulfilled, had likewise kept him tethered to this world, even as death loomed ever closer.

As Satoru turned his head to look at the figure beside Suguru, a wave of bittersweet memories washed over him. It had been too long since he had last seen you, too long since they had last stood together as allies in the fight against darkness. And now, as he gazed upon your lifeless form, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret – regret for all the lost time, all the missed opportunities, and all the words left unspoken. You were chained to this life, out of love. And you probably knew that too well.

Amidst the sorrow and regret, there remained a glimmer of hope – a belief that even in death, their love would endure, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them all. Yet he wouldn’t want it to continue. This was already a nightmare. These moments were already haunting ghosts. And as Satoru stood before them, his heart heavy with grief yet filled with a quiet determination, he knew that he would do whatever it took to set them free from the chains of their past, to grant them the peace and solace they so rightfully deserved.

"To think you'd be the one here at my end," Suguru replied, his voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling within him. Yet he smiled, a genuine expression of warmth and understanding that seemed to contradict the gravity of the situation.

Suguru Geto, his expression stoic and unreadable, met Satoru's gaze with a steely resolve. There was a time when closeness existed between them, a bond forged through shared experiences and unwavering trust. But now, that bond lay fractured and strained, buried beneath the weight of their conflicting ideologies and diverging paths.

"Is my family safe?" Suguru demanded, his tone tinged with a shallow breath of concern. He glanced at the figure standing beside him, your dead, cold eyes betraying a silent worry that mirrored his own. Nanako and Mimiko, the twins who had become like family to them, were undoubtedly on both your minds. Suguru knew that your concern for their safety mirrored his own, even if you couldn't voice it aloud.

Satoru nodded solemnly. "Every last one of them managed to escape," he confirmed, his voice tinged with regret. "The ones in Kyoto were under your orders, too, right?"

Suguru's lips curved into a bitter smile. "Yeah," he acknowledged. "Unlike you, I'm a kind man."

The tension between them hung heavy in the air, suffocating and palpable. Suguru broke the silence once more, his voice steady and unwavering. "You sent those two assuming that I'd defeat them, didn't you?" he questioned, his tone accusing yet tinged with resignation.

Suguru's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing in response. "To set Okkotsu off," he whispered, his voice laced with bitter amusement. Satoru's eyes remained steadfast, reflecting the resolve of a man driven by his convictions.

"I trusted you," Satoru interjected, his voice tinged with a note of disappointment. "Trusted that a man as principled as you wouldn't kill off young sorcerers without a reason."

"Trust, huh?" Suguru mused, his smile tinged with wistfulness. He glanced at the figure beside him, your cold, dead eyes mirroring his own emotions. "I didn't think I still had any of that left… after everything I’ve been through."

With a resigned sigh, Suguru retrieved a small object from the folds of his clothes and extended it towards Satoru. "Return this for me, will you?" he requested, his voice tinged with finality.

Satoru accepted the object, his fingers closing around it with a sense of inevitability. "Was the elementary school your doing, too?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and disbelief.

Suguru met his gaze, his expression inscrutable. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.

Their eyes met in a silent exchange of understanding and regret, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy between them. Satoru took a step forward, his gaze piercing through the darkness to meet Suguru's gaze head-on.

"Do you have any last words?" he inquired, his voice soft yet tinged with melancholy.

Suguru's lips twitched into a bitter smile, his gaze unfaltering. "No matter what anyone says," he began, his voice tinged with resignation. "I hate those monkeys. But I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High. I just couldn't wear a heartfelt smile in this world. Not after…"

He turned towards you, his expression filled with an unspoken longing and regret. You looked back at him, confusion etched into your features. But he smiled at you, urging you closer with a silent gesture.

"I hope you can forgive me," Suguru whispered to you, his hand reaching out to touch your face gently. A tear fell from your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain and loss they had both endured. "And I hope you will meet me soon. The real you. Wherever this death leads me. I hope you can love me again. Like you used to.”

"You need to do it, Suguru," Satoru urged, his voice filled with a sense of sorrow. One that Suguru cannot comprehend. One that was buried for ten years. “Now.”

Suguru wiped the lone tear away, his expression solemn yet resolute. "I know."

"Suguru," Gojo Satoru called out, his voice echoing with the weight of their shared history and the unspoken promise of redemption. "We'll meet again someday, right?"

His words were a whispered prayer, a plea for forgiveness and understanding that he never thought he'd utter. Each syllable hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the weight of their past and the uncertainty of their future.

Suguru looked at him with surprise, his expression a mixture of disbelief and resignation. And then, as if released from the shackles of his own sorrow, a laugh bellowed from him, echoing through the desolate landscape like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. He smiled at Satoru, a genuine smile that reached his eyes despite the pain and regret that lingered there.

"At least curse me a little bit, in the end," Suguru teased lowly, his voice tinged with a sense of camaraderie that belied the gravity of the moment. It was a moment of levity amidst the heaviness of their shared grief, a fleeting glimpse of the bond that had once united them in friendship and camaraderie.

And then, as if on cue, your voice pierced through the silence, your words whispered softly yet audibly into the night air. "Go...od...bye," you murmured, your lips forming the words with a sense of finality that hung heavy in the air like a shroud. It was not strangled. But rather, warm. As warm as it used to be when you were alive.

They both looked at you, their hearts heavy with sorrow and regret, yet filled with a quiet understanding and acceptance. Your smile, though fleeting, filled the space between them with warmth and reassurance, a silent reminder that even in death, love endures.

As your body started to fade into the ether, a silent farewell etched into the depths of your soul, Suguru reached out to them one last time. His hand extended toward Satoru, a gesture of farewell and gratitude for their shared moments of joy and sorrow. And in that fleeting moment, surrounded by the echoes of their shared past and the promise of a brighter future, they reached back, their hands intertwined in a silent vow of eternal remembrance and love.

Satoru watched as your body disappeared, wisps of what had been blowing into the wind like cherry blossoms in the summer breeze. His gaze shifted to Suguru, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was a smile of contentment, of freedom finally achieved. Because he knew, deep down, that he would meet you soon. And in that moment, he felt no regrets, no sorrow, only the quiet acceptance of what was to come.

“I’ll do it once,” Satoru whispered to Suguru, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Suguru's smile widened, a sense of peace washing over him as he closed his eyes. He resigned himself to his fate. “Between you and me, Satoru,” he whispered back, his voice filled with a sense of finality. “There was never any need for thanks or apologies. I’m ready to go. I’ve been ready for ten years. All I want is to smile genuinely again.”

And with those words hanging in the air like a silent promise, Suguru took one final breath, his spirit soaring free from the shackles of his earthly existence. He didn’t need to use his powers, Satoru thinks. He was already gone. Far too gone. And as he faded into the unknown, a sense of tranquility settled over the desolate landscape, one that had ever been so familiar. So full of memories of the four of you in your blue summer. It was now his turn, he supposed. To live with the ghosts of you and Suguru, for as long as he lives.

As Geto Suguru's spirit faded into the unknown, Gojo Satoru stood in the quiet stillness of the brisk sunset turning deeply into the darkened night. He stood before his best friend’s body, letting a sense of peace settle over him like a comforting embrace. He watched as Suguru's essence dissipated into the ether, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he whispered a silent farewell to his dear friend.

In the moments that followed, Gojo Satoru felt a profound sense of closure wash over him, a weight lifted from his weary soul. For so long, he had carried the burden of their shared past, the guilt and regret weighing heavily on his heart. But now, as Suguru's spirit ascended to a higher plane, he knew that their journey together had come to an end. And now Suguru's journey began. You both were together now, that’s what he hoped for. Suguru was smiling beside you. That you both were waiting for him and Shoko. That’s what he wants to believe.

As the last traces of Suguru's presence faded from the air, Satoru closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the quiet tranquility of the night. In that moment, he felt a sense of gratitude for the time they had shared, for the laughter and tears, the joy and sorrow that had defined their friendship.

The tears fell from blue eyes easily.

He choked on his sobs, his head down.

It was never going to be easy for him.

He had to move forward, all he could do.

He had to live, for you and Suguru.

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whalesforhands · 4 months

Text

kaizen daycare!

summary: welcome to the quaint daycare of kaizen! working with cute kids alongside their doting parents, you sometimes wonder why you haven’t given into the temptation of having some of your own with how cute they are…

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The quiet prefecture that you called home was always something you deeply appreciated. It was comfortable, a convenience store a mere 2 minute walk from your apartment, an izakaya just 8 minutes away and the nearest shopping center not far away either.

Most importantly, you felt satisfied with your life here.

Within this street, sits the unassuming Kaizen Daycare, a preschool for children aged 2 and above. Owned by the determined, hardworking Masamichi Yaga, the staff he employed were ones he trusted wholeheartedly with the education of the young children.

And you wouldn’t wish to disappoint him at all.

“Hyaahhhh~ (name)-sensei is so comfy… I wanna nap here forever!” A small head of pink is whispering as he tries to shuffle his body further up onto your lap, his arms splayed out as he grabs onto your wrist, lowering your palm onto the top of his head as he nuzzles it, pushing himself into your touch against the fluffy mass of pink.

So cute. The squeal you fight to bite back is teetering on escape as you watch the little boy cuddle against you, the dim nightlights of the preschool glowing, the soft chime of a lullaby as you hear the shift of blankets, the soft snores of your children.

“Why does nap time have to be sooooo short…” The cute little toddler is grumbling into your lap as he begins to sit up, a pout on his face as air is puffed into his cheeks.

(Another whispered grumble. “Nanamin doesn’t take long enough nap times… I gotta nap enough for him too…!”)

“Hmm~” Your arms settle around him, hugging the little boy close to you in order to console him. “Yuuji-kun, does that mean you’d rather sleep all day instead of playing with your friends?” Now that catches his attention as he freezes in your arms, immediately turning his body to face you.

“Oh, and children who sleep all day don’t get snacks or rice anymore~” The smile on your face is absolutely serene, a lax look of contentment as you poke one of his chubby cheeks, gentle finger prodding into the fat as you watch it squish, he’s flushed red in distraught, bottom lip trembling as his tiny grip gets slightly tighter.

“T-then I don’t wanna nap all day anymore…!” He looks like he’s gonna tear up. “I wanna play with Megumin and the girls wayyyyyy more,” His arms start waving around, trying to depict his yearning for a long time. “A-and eat snacks with them…!”

“Then Yuuji-kun, why don’t you go and help me prepare the—“

“Ahhh! Yuuji is no fair!” There’s an accusatory finger pointed at the both of you as Nanako rubs at one of her bleary eyes. “Getting (name)-sensei cuddles when we’re all sleeping…!”

Now that sent a warning signal to all your once peacefully sleeping children, perked up heads and messy hair as they practically start to wake one by one, yawns and groans getting spat out in rapid complaints.

“Noisy…”

“Wha- Yuuji!”

“…hmph.”

“Nanako-chan!” Now he’s pouting in complaint as he watches the girl wobble over on unsteady feet, a blanket thrown over her head as she plops herself into your arms, squeezing in beside Yuuji to make herself at home.

“Mmm~! (name)-sensei is so warm…” You can only giggle quietly as you allow her to settle in, your arms opening up more to hold the two close to you.

“Mimiko wants to go in too…!” It’s getting slightly crowded now, but more than doable as another presence grabs onto your side, ducking under your arm to hug against your torso. “Kids, nap time is about to end—“ You’re not even allowed to finish your sentence as one more crashes directly onto your stomach, pushing the blonde and pink-haired children onto your tummy, their squeals loud as they feel the impact that you desperately swallow as you try not to let out sounds of pain.

“Noba-chan! That hurt!” Nanako makes herself heard as she yells over the squeals and squirms, lightly pushing away the intruding girl’s face.

“Blehhhhh! Shouldn’t have joined without me!” She’s sticking out her tongue as her tiny hands fist the fabric of the cotton apron you wore, innocent brown eyes shimmering up at you. “(name)-sensei, you’ll let me have cuddles too, right?”

As if she didn’t just cannonball herself onto you.

“Yes, yes—“ You’re trying to recover as you tuck all four of the kids onto your lap, letting them snuggle and hug and nuzzle their cheeks against you. “But please do not do that again, or cuddle sessions will be banned for everyone, Nobara-chan.”

“Ehhhhhhh?!”

“Mimiko thinks it’s unfair that we have to get punished too…”

“Noba-chan, my cuddles are too important for me to let go of—!”

“At least (name)-sensei didn’t ban it this time, ok?! I’ll be more careful next time!”

1,2,3,4… You still notice one that’s missing through the sudden chaos. “Megumi-kun? Are you not going to come over?” Your smile is serene as you witness the quiet boy simply just… Quietly staring at you. As if he was uncertain, unsure.

He remains quiet at your question.

“You can come over, you know?” You spread your arms out a little more. “I’ll always have space for you.” You’ve made that promise to him.

“Yea, yea! Megumin c’mere!”

“Gumi-kun, you’re missing out!”

“C’mon, Fushiguro!”

And so he does, slowly making his way to be standing before you, as your grin grows ever wider, the excited squeals of the kids loud as you suddenly lunge forth to let the boy join your cuddle pile, carefully letting him land onto the plush of the blankets and pillows and soft toys the kids held as they slept, your back falling onto the nearby mattress.

You think you’re in heaven.

——

Phew… You’re letting out a sigh as you down the chocolate milk from the vending machine, happy to have a short break as the kids preoccupy themselves with playtime just in front of you, their laughter loud and joyous as Nobara chases Yuuji around, the twins drawing with crayons as Megumi finishes off the last of his biscuit snack whilst he sits upon your lap.

(He’s so warm…! And cuddly…! Like a miniature heater—)

“Haha! Nobara-chan, you’re slow!” His red hood was starting to flutter at the speed he ran, dodging around and jumping over plush toys as he made his rounds.

“I won’t be so slow after I get you, Yuuji!” Tiny patters of socked feet against the plush ground, manage to get your attention as they approach you and the chewing boy.

“Yuuji, Nobara! Do not leave the—!” You’re too late when you hear a crash and a loud cry of your name, your arms hurriedly picking up a wide-eyed Megumi and placing him on the chair before running over to the scene.

“Are you both okay?!” You’re in a panic as you drop onto your knees, cradling a crying Yuuji into your arms as you see the redness starting to splay onto the little boy’s forehead, your fingers going up to caress the injury.

(He bumped into the wall whilst looking back at Kugisaki.)

“Nobara, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?!” Your eyes quickly assess the girl who had yet to cry, a guilty look on her face that threatens tears to start to spill.

“…it was my fault…” Her voice is quiet as her head is tilted towards the ground. “I shouldn’t have chased him so much…”

Your hand goes up to pat at her head as you continuously console a now quiet Yuuji, stroking his back as you feel his tears wet the sleeve of your shoulder. “It’s good that you acknowledge your mistakes, but—“

You suck in a breath as you prepare yourself. No matter how cute they are, you absolutely cannot give in-!

“Nobara-chan, Yuuji-kun.” Your voice suddenly takes on a tone that’s a scarier than the usual. “No more running outside the play area, okay?”

You get two nods.

“Now please hold hands and assure each other you’re both still friends, okay?”

Hesitation; before a slow entwine of their hands together.

“I wanna still be your friend, Yuuji…” A voice that cracks halfway through her whisper.

“I shouldn’t have ran outside, Nobara…” A sniffle as you bring out more tissues to start dabbing their cute faces with.

What good kids you have.

(Though, a quick trip to Shoko’s office would be good now…)

——

“Nanamin! Look, look!” He’s pointing at the tiger bandaid upon his head. “I gotta new tiger! Gaoo!” He’s making his hands into tiny claws as he makes a roaring sound before breaking into giggles, laughing even more as you gave the little boy over to his father.

“That’s very nice, Yuuji.” The blonde man only smiles patiently at his child, holding him with one arm as his attention goes to your nervous form.

“I’m so sorry, Nanami-san!” You’re bowing your head before him as you apologize. “I should’ve watched him better, it was my responsibility to keep your child safe and yet—!”

“(name)-san, please raise your head.” You guiltily look up to see a confused Yuuji and at-ease salaryman. “I’m more surprised he’s had less accidents in these few weeks compared to the other schools I sent him to.” He stops to give a slight chuckle, adjusting Yuuji in his arms.

“And he sure holds no grudges at all.”

Eh…?

“Nanamin, you’re not gonna be angry, at (name)-sensei, right? Right?!” Little hands grab onto blond locks and start pulling, as narrowed light brown start to scrutinize him. “You can’t be angry, okay?! (name)-sensei is my favourite sensei!”

“See?” He’s starting to even smile as he lets the young boy poke at his chiseled face, his stress feeling like it was going to melt away. “If anything, I should be grateful to you for treating him so well. I haven’t seen him be so happy about going to school before.”

You feel like you’re going to tear up now.

——

“Were my kids good today too?” Geto Suguru is absolutely trying to stretch out conversation with you, satisfied with the way your eyes lit up at the prospect of talking about his children.

“Oh, they were wonderful!” Your hands are clasped together in joy as you let the two girls cling onto your legs, their sparkling gaze directed up at you as one of your hand go down to pat their heads as the other held onto a quiet Megumi’s hand. “I couldn’t ask for a sweeter pair of twins and the most well-behaved boy, Geto-san.”

“You’re too sweet, (name).” And too much to his liking too, a smile full of his signature charm and allure is sent your way. “Say, why don’t you join us for dinner some day? I would love to thank you for your hard work.”

Now that makes you flustered. “Oh, no, no! It’s perfectly fine! I-It’s part of the job, haha…” You feel pleasantly shy under his brown-purple gaze, your heart starting to stutter from the nervousness of being around such a handsome man.

(Ahhh…! If you accepted, you’d definitely die from being too close to someone so handsome, not to mention—)

“Oh, you would be wonderful to have over. My husband would love to have you join us as well, you know?” He’s referring to none other than the Gojo Satoru, of course. A big name and what you once thought was an intimidating presence, turned out to hide a sweets-loving, adorable man.

(Who you definitely don’t want to admit is very handsome, in fear of building his already inflated ego.)

“Ahh… I’m not too sure, Geto-san…” You’re scratching at your cheek awkwardly as you try to dismiss a rising lurch in your stomach. How nervous are you…?

“And plus,” His hidden intentions are missed by your embarrassed self as you see him shift ever closer to you. “You’re just like family already.” His hand is upon your shoulder as he gives you a pat, a rising bashfulness starting to overtake you as you feel warmer and warmer…

(Handsome men… Are so tempting…)

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Notes:

Nobara is usually the first to leave the preschool, and even leaves early in the afternoon sometimes because her grandmother simply lives so close to the area, and would love to spend time with her lovely granddaughter and drop off snacks for the children.

Yuuji in Nurse Shoko’s office;

“B-but…” He’s now frazzled, confused. Why wasn’t Shoko-sensei doing what usually you and Nanamin did…?

“You didn’t kiss my boo-boo better…” A puff of his cheeks as he taps the tiger-themed bandaid on his forehead, expectantly looking up at the tired nurse as she regards him with a blank stare.

(He didn’t even require a bandaid. Shoko just gave him one because he couldn’t stop staring at the collection that she had amassed on her table.

“You can pick one, okay?”)

“…what.” The sugarless lollipop was nearly spat out with an outright deadpan reaction.

“Nanamin and (name)-sensei always tell me that kisses make injuries go bye-bye!” A pause.

A blink of two sets of brown eyes.

“Pleaseeeeeee?”

She finally, hesitantly turns her head and meets innocent, sparkly brown that knocks at her conscience as she tries her hardest not grimace. Seriously, did you teach the kids to plead her like you did too…?

Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru have been trying very hard to get you to call them by their first names. You do not listen.

nvy’s aftertalk:

if ur wondering where I got the preschool name from, I just used kaizen (改善, continuous improvement) instead of kaisen (迴戰, advance into fighting) i’ll have made the most intimidating, delinquent preschool ever if i used jujutsu (咒術, curse sorcery) either LMAO

p.s. if you see a difference in characters, it’s cause i used the mandarin characters since i understand that way better than japanese

and yes this is what i spend my time creating pls do not throw tomatoes at me

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #kdc au

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z3rinn · 6 months

Text

# #. BATHTUB MERMAID.

in which your daily walks on the beach have been becoming more eventful as time passes. But after finding a certain scale, you feel as if you’re being watched at every turn.

this was a little unedited idea I came up with for halloween!! I wrote that Azul has scales when octopi dont- so uh-. slight yandere content up ahead !! hope you guys enjoy !! also- new header !! wdyt??

❝ rise and fall silver moon ❞

You never believed in mythical creatures.

The beach had become a safe spot for you throughout the years. It was still and serene; a place where life's problems sunk into the deep ocean before you.

The ocean had always been mysterious. It was a deep and spacious space, the beginning of life so to say. It held a sense of tranquility, yet alongside that, unpredictability.

The Sea held emotions. It could be violent and vicious, yet benevolent and peaceful. Perhaps this is what led to your fascination with the sea and its inhabitants. It's creatures.

The ocean reflected beauty, showing the world its colors and scales, it was a place creatures could thrive. However the deeper you go, the more terrifying it gets, showing what could be awaiting you in the unknown.

The human imagination was vast, and could come up with many creatures and ideas. There were vampires and werewolves, Cryptids and Ghosts- all fantastical tales made up by the imagination.

The Sea had its own creatures as well, mermaids, yet similarly known as sirens. They were fantastical stories, usually depicted by sailors and legends. They were beings similar to humans, well, only half of them that is.

They were only half man, with long beautiful tails from the waist down. They were akin to fish, luring others with their songs and beauty. Their majestic colours aiding them.

A fishermens tale, as they say. You didnt believe in the stories, no matter how scary they could get. Scientifically it couldn’t be proven.

However, these legends didnt deter you from the ocean.

Now, on a dark night like this, where the silver moon lit up the sky, there shouldn't have been anything to worry about. It was an ideal night, peaceful and soothing.

The wind breezed across your face, brushing against skin and cloth. It was a chilly night, the cold ocean and air made a combination that was welcomed.

You walked slowly across the shore line, feeling the sand between your toes. It was soft and rocky, a texture you had frown accustomed to. The sand had significantly cooled compared to the burning heat from the morning, it felt nice against your skin.

You glanced behind you, seeing how far away you traveled from the lifeguard. You couldn't help but take notice of the tide that erased your footsteps.

It was if the world was erasing you.

Well, you wouldve thought that if it were for the black scale that washed up on shore.

And wow was it pretty.

You gently picked the scale up, rubbing off any remaining sand in the way.

You gaped in awe, cradling it in your hands. No way this could be real. Not with how beautiful it was.

The scale reminded you of an obsidian stone. Smooth and soft to the touch. It oddly resembled hard candy in your opinion.

You turned it over, noting that it was also very shiny. It looked like holographic sparkles with the way they shone against the moons silver light. Shifting it back and forth you could see bits of purple and blue reflecting in the moonlight.

It seriously looked like a jewel. Perfectly crafted and precise.

Hm.

You pocketed the scale. Continuing on with your walk. It's not like anyone would miss it right? In the end it was just another scale. No one would miss it.

You had keep reminding yourself of that. As the feeling of someone watching you became more apparent.

❝ mirror covered in chalky steam ❞

Showers weren't uncommon to take when coming home from the beach. In fact they were usually welcomed and desired.

Although going to the beach almost everyday you still couldn't get used to the feeling of sand everywhere.

It was so uncomfortable.

The need to get the grimy sand off was strong. And the urge to just pour clean water all over you was overwhelming. You just had to clean yourself of this dirt.

A light sigh escaped your lips as you stepped into the bathroom, ridding yourself of your clothes while turning the water on. Luckily this time you didn't go for a swim, so just a quick rinse would suffice.

But alas with some more thought you decided, sometimes a long bath was nice once in a while.

Grabbing your phone, you put a playlist on. The one you specifically made for your long walks on the beach. It could still work good enough, right?

A smile formed on your face as you stepped into the bathtub, hot water enveloping your body. It was a nice contrast against the beaches cold air.

You sunk deeper into the tub, unknowingly letting sleep sink its claws deep into you.

The last thing you saw was an array of sharp teeth above you, a soft, yet comforting voice lulling out a song. A pair of gold and grey eyes hypnotizing you, a spell to put you at ease. To sleep.

However, you were too far gone. And while your heart lept with adrenaline and fear, the drowsy feeling wasn't going away. No matter how much you screamed at yourself to get up you couldn’t. You could only feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the water around you.

And you could've sworn you felt a hand cover your eyes.

Slimy and webbed.

❝ touch me, touch me, kiss me to sleep ❞

It was another day at the beach. Another day where the cool air brushed across you, consuming your being whole. It was a quiet day- or was one.

You glanced over at the sea from your spot under the bright blue parasol, contrasting the dark sky. Waves crashed, yelling ensued. All fun and games it seemed.

Being at the beach usually meant a time just for yourself. However this time you accompanied by your brother- and his oddly annoying friends.

Usually on days like this you relaxed, watching them play with a volleyball like they were in the big leagues. You'd only ever get up when someone hit the ball too far off- being ever so kind to help them out.

Just as you were doing now.

A groan left your lips as you stood up, watching the beach ball drift further away from you. It'd be a run to get it.

Your feet patterned against the sand, moving into a slight jog to catch up with the ball. However, every time you begun to creep closer to the ball it drifted away. It was weird.

It want long before you caught up to the ball, the wind blowing through your hair as you observed your surroundings. You'd stopped in front of the monstro cave.

The monstro cave, a place where many had gone 'missing'. Apparently a place so deep that many generations got lost in its caverns.

You'd never believe these legends of course, there was absolutely no reason to. If the cave was so dangerous, why hadnt it been blocked off yet? And with modern technology it wasn't hard to get help if ever lost.

However, it wasn't hard to get frightened by the cave. The legends and vibe of the corridor could easily freak someone out.

Almost everyone was scared of the cave at some point.

You glanced up into the cavern, noting the cold air that poured from it. Before stopping in your tracks.

And your heart sank.

A yellow eye stared up at you from the darkness. A singlular eye. Staring. Watching.

It was wide, and almost downturned, glowing in the darkness as it just watched. It gazed deeply into your form, never breaking contact with your eyes.

You could hear the ocean water crashing behind you, almost as if it was angry.

Your body screamed at you to move, your heart pounding in your chest. But you were frozen still.

The eye squinted, scrutinizing your form. A gut feeling hung over you, whoever it was took pleasure in your horror.

You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move. You had to move---

You slowly stepped back. A shaky sigh left your lips, the sense of fear washing over you, tenfold. Perhaps it was time to go.

Yes, you never believed in mythical creatures. But it was hard to forget all these encounters.

❝ im a bathtub mermaid ❞

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland

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punkpandapatrixk · 1 year

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🥧The Love You Spiritually Deserve ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

‘Why do nice people choose the wrong people to date?’

‘Well…

We accept the love we think we deserve.’

‘Can we make them know that they deserve more?’

‘We can try.’

– Charlie asking his teacher in The Perks of Being a Wallflower

SONG for all piles: Coming Home by NCT U

MOVIE for all piles: My Week with Marilyn (2011)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

There is a very special behind-the-scene for this PAC on Patreon. If you’re already subscribed, don’t forget to check the full post ^o^v

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Pile 1 – A Love that Helps You Remember How Precious of a Darling You Are

VIBE: Promise by Jimin

to be in Love with the right person – 2 of Wands

The moment your sweet, sweet Heart recognises the person who’s right for you, baby, it’s all calm sunshine in your world🌤This person has a most peculiar ability to bring back nostalgic senses and memories of what you used to enjoy as a child. These are your Heart’s most honest desires that you might’ve suppressed or avoided to some extent, in exchange for being practical. You live in a world that’s given you reasons to abandon your own dreams in order to become practical and a responsible member of society. In many ways, I see you’ve tried to fit in and follow the expectations of a normal society.

But when you come in touch with the essence of this person who’s just right for you, everything changes. Suddenly, the scales blinding your eyes fall off and now you see the real colours of the world—your world. Literally this person brought your world back from the dead. Something about them rejuvenates your faith in the world you’re innately able to create for yourself. And just like that, you gradually move towards changing small aspects of your everyday Life to manifest a world of your dreams~🌷

You may return to old hobbies—perhaps resume your old piano lessons; you open up your dusty rice cooker recipe books (LOL) and start cooking again; you start singing again or you may finally join that ballet class you’ve always wanted to do when you were a child, irrespective of your age now. This person who’s just the right person for you is truly an angelic Human whose essence brings back peace of mind, Love (first and foremost for yourself), serenity, clarity, and most importantly, a hunger for Life and its endless possibilities🎋

the spiritual Home in your heart – 4 of Cups

I sense that your Soul is incredibly sensitive. You’ve probably come from other realms where the inhabitants are peaceful, and I feel strongly that you’ve often been gardeners and carers of animals in those other lives heheh You’re so spiritually in tune with the moods and sorrows of not only the people around you but also the world in general. You’re the type of person who sees a world that needs healing. You see a world needing more kindness, alas, your Kindness was taken advantage of and spat on. Then you decided to hide away and avoid people as much as possible.

Do you feel like you enjoy the company of animals, plants, and rocks more than Humans? Yeah, you can sense the spirit of non-Human creatures and you find non-Humans to be the gentlest, most understanding creatures. I think you should like to watch Studio Ghibli’s My Neighbour Totoro🐼I personally think you’re the type that would find comfort in a lot of Miyazaki Hayao’s movies because they depict the innocence of children and how they see the world with an eye for adventure. As flawed as they can be, characters in Miyazaki’s movies are understandably human and you desperately want to believe in a world that’s more forgiving like that.

Due to the nature of your emotions, you’ve often had these ebbs and flows of faith in your ability to manifest a world of kindness and gentleness that you’ve always envisioned for yourself. It’s like a painful tug o’ war between your faith in yourself and the world’s pressure for you to conform. But trust me, anybody who makes you question your values, dreams, visions, missions, and goals, are not your people. The right person(s) for you is someone whose heart is so kind and wide that in their embrace you are reminded of everything good that you deserve to see manifest in your own Universe.

up your Self-Love game! – 9 of Pentacles Rx

Ooh, I know you can’t stop admiring this person’s remarkably gorgeous smile~ But do you have any semblance of an idea why your Soul finds them so irresistibly attractive? Your person who lights up your dark horizon is a freaking multitalented King or Queen whose thirst for Life inspires a hidden courage buried deep within your psyche. When you look at them or hear their stories, you can’t help but notice that this is also a flawed human who’s beautifully aware of their own failings and shortcomings, but they work really hard at becoming a nobler version of themselves. A more astonishing expression of what’s truly good about them as a human being, in spite of everything.

Whereas you’ve tried to build an independent Life away from most Humans, this person helps you see that there is still good in trying to believe in Humanity. That there is still hope because after all the world is so big and there are many people in it. I have a feeling your person is able to hold such a positive outlook because they’ve been blessed enough with good company, maybe good family, too. So they naturally have this ability to balance the way they perceive bad people in the world.

I think their people are going to be your people as well. Their friends and family are going to admire you so much and be grateful that you’ve appeared in the Life of your person and even theirs. They are glad you’ve found each other, like they really think you’re good for each other as you’re able to hold Light for each other. You literally heal each other. Your person’s people, too, are going to see you for all the good that you are. A union with this person and their friends and family is going to remind you what a precious and talented darling you really are🧸

COMING HOME TO YOURSELF🔻🧡

remembering your innate goodness – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

loving yourself as an act of rebellion – Priestess of Prosperity

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – A Love that Honours Your Innocent Rose-Tinted Glasses

VIBE: OMG by NewJeans

to be in Love with the right person – Knight of Cups

When your gentle Heart rests in the embrace of the person who’s right for you, you will know, this is a Soulmate. There’s no other explanation. You feel a strong sense of nostalgia, as if having known this person in another dimension. And when you recognise each other, it feels like, ‘Oh hey! I know you! Hmm…’ and your conversation flows so naturally as if catching up with an old, old soul friend~

Being with this person, you want to cuddle all the time. But not the oddly lustful or desperately clingy type. No, no, baby, this is pure, innocent, childlike Love. When your heart is attracted to the person whose Soul resembles your own, it’s pure bliss, comfort, safety. I think you’ll want to have a home with this person. You’ll want to build a home with them that reminds you both of the Home World your Souls came from. It’ll be a lot of fun! Because the person who’s just right for you also has the same fairy-like mind, sense and perception as you.

And holy cow you know what that means—this is someone who’s just as sensitive and considerate as you. They will really honour your rose-tinted glasses and not make you feel infantilised for the innocence you’ve worked hard to maintain. This is someone sweet, gentle, soft-spoken, incredibly polite accompanied by an out-of-place sense of humour, and a little awkward from time to time… depending on situation, I guess🦄

To be in love with the right person… you finally feel truly, genuinely seen for the first time. It feels cosy to not have to explain yourself exhaustively with words that often fail your true meaning🦦

the spiritual Home in your heart – Page of Wands Rx

Unlike most people, you’re not super ambitious or even industrious about most things. Others may perceive you as ‘lazy’ but the truth is you’re an Old Soul that remembers a time when human beings were able to live at a more comfortable pace. You can’t really bring yourself to fit in this new pace—the modern pace—because you think it’s silly that people rush to their graveyards without even stopping to smell the roses. And you want to smell those roses, all the time, you want to always be aware of all the roses and jasmines and lilies.

You can’t think of another way of living your Life. You’re quite stubborn about it because you believe in your own mindset. You’re actually a lot stronger than you may think. If there’s one thing you’re ambitious about, it is to maintain a world of your own aesthetic. I think you’re someone who’s deep down super aware of your birth right to live in a world of beauty. Sometimes you get confused about this whole endeavour because you feel like an alien in this strange world. But one way or another, you hold on to your own values and I think that’s super admirable.

Some of you who are younger may struggle a little bit with boundaries because you’re too kind. You’re really soft, gentle, compassionate and have an ability to welcome anybody who’s tired and weary. But often, people who are hurting and confused about their own place in the world could turn super spiteful towards those who are working on their own dream lives that do not agree with the convention. You really need to be careful with those whose envy has the potential to seep into your morphogenetic field and ruin your manifestations!

You can be super kind and still say no to those whose presence could jeopardise your peace of mind, OK? Also, I think you’ll really find respite in this beautiful playlist on YT, ‘Nakamura Yuriko Songs I Love’, when you feel a bit weary of people~

up your Self-Love game! – 6 of Cups Rx

So first of all, your generosity has a tendency of making you reminisce about the past. You sometimes miss the people who used to be there for you. This could be friends or family members. For some of you, this could even be a past significant other. You have a habit of romanticising pleasant memories you had with people whom you used to care about. This could lead you to a dangerous path of self-sabotage. You may want to sometimes text or call people who genuinely aren’t even deserving of your kindness, gentleness, or care.

To protect yourself, have the courage to completely and utterly burn the bridges to those you know are only acting as parasites in your Life. The way I see it, there really aren’t that many people who can fully understand and accept you the way your Soul Family does. So wait for them and make space for only them. And so, to make space for them, you need to vacant those who don’t belong! Blood is thicker than water? Bullshit. Soul is stronger than blood!

My advice to you is to get a pet instead so you have a company upon whom you can pour your nurture. I know you are somebody who likes to nurture and care for another being. So, this is the best course of action if you haven’t met anybody from your Soul Group🥰If not a pet, a plant works, too. Depends on what you like, really. All in all, know that you are deserving of good company that truly honours your kindness and wouldn’t take advantage of that softness.

COMING HOME TO YOURSELF🔻💗

remembering your innate goodness – Silver Astronomer (Galileo Galilei)

loving yourself as an act of rebellion – Priestess of Innocence

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Pile 3 – A Love that’s Grateful for the Fact You Were Born At All

VIBE: Kazamidori (Weather Vane) by Sakamoto Maaya

to be in Love with the right person – XI Justice Rx

Okay, you’re totally an Old Soul with an important mission, babe. I’m pretty sure you already know this. If you aren’t that aware of it yet, I’m still sure you’ve always had this feeling like you were born for a greater purpose. Like, no matter what, you just know somebody sent you here to do something amazing… but what exactly? Dunno. You’re just haunted by this feeling of having your time on Earth… timed. ‘I’ve got to hurry!’ So you scurry.

I think you’ve felt incredibly lonely for the most part of your Life on Earth. You’re an alien—actually, you’re an astronaut. Deep inside your psyche, you’ve always had this debilitating realisation of having been torn apart from your real Family. You know that your family on Earth is not your real Family. You don’t even look like them, you feel. All your wants and even value system as a person, not a single thing matches theirs. You’ve always dreamt of travelling the world over to search for your people. Doesn’t matter where; they must be somewhere. Just not anywhere near here.

Of all the piles, yours talks the most about having gone through a massive spiritual purging. At some point in Life you have or will experience this. Like a phoenix dying to itself and be reborn out of its own ashes transforming into something greater than all it’s ever been in the past. When you finally accept your magic—that you’re magic—you realise that you’ve always needed to be your own first love. The day you have/had this epiphany and come to love yourself absolutely fully is/was the day you realise that everything in the world will always be alright so long as you believe in yourself🐾

the spiritual Home in your heart – King of Cups Rx

I think you’re someone who easily falls in love with attractive people, passionate people, kindhearted people, dazzling people, generous people, talented people, and all that stuff. But… that’s all really child’s play. Puppy love, if you wanna be cute. Summer crushes, if you’re casual as fuck. But the truth is, deep, deep, deep, fucking deep somewhere in the most secret corner of your Heart, there is an essence of someone whom you’re meant to reunite with in this incarnation. Damn, you made a promise, OK? That you wouldn’t ever be, EVER, serious with anybody who’s not this person💍

Dang, the day you were born into this world, you were already married🤪You had been proposed to in the spirit realm🎎It simply wouldn’t work if it’s not your person😗And for that, I hope you honour this Love that you’re carrying in your Heart and work on your spiritual development or something, until Destiny (that tricky bitch) unites you both in the physical realm. Babe! It’s worth the wait! This is the ONLY Human on Earth who knows how to embrace all of you with all of the Love you’re so spiritually deserving🥺

A small percentage of you choosing this pile, I feel quite strongly, could decide to become a monk, nun, or any other type of a celibate person who has no business being in a romantic relationship or a sexual union with another living being. This deep Love that you carry around in your Heart is all that fuels you until the day you depart from this world. You’re deeply aware of how short a Human’s existence is and you’re looking forward ever so to the day you breathe your last breath and return to your One & Only who’s always been watching over you from the Higher Realms🎐

up your Self-Love game! – 7 of Wands Rx

With all of the above said, whichever group you resonate with, all of you choosing this pile are, again, haunted by the same feeling of needing to save the world. In a manner of speaking, because you’re an astronaut, it’s true you came here for an important Soul Mission, and for that you could ruminate too much about ways you can develop yourself to ready yourself for the world stage when the time is right. But that’s actually counterintuitive and could make your whole Earth experience miserable.

I know you find it immensely difficult to be Human… even just operating with a Human flesh bag is painful enough. Some of you may even have a chronic illness that’s constantly giving you bodily aches or that you find controlling your movements quite challenging. Perhaps issues with developmental disabilities, reduced/low dexterity, immune system diseases, dyslexia, ADHD, autism (varying spectrum), gender dysphoria, and all sorts of compatibility issues that could make Life on Earth quite unbearable to some.

Compatibility issues here means that your Soul can’t quite adapt to your Earthly body because you’re too advanced or that your Soul originates from a much purer state of being that the tragic density of this dirty Human World causes immense pressure on your whole mental and physical being. And for that, you could struggle a lot with constantly wanting to leave soon. As a way to numb yourself, you could fall into a tendency of wanting to always, constantly, tirelessly, unceasingly working on something, on yourself, as if scurrying for ways to die sooner.

But… babe… you have a place in this world. Slow down a little, allow yourself to breathe, and let the Spirit of the Planet speak its thanks and admiration for all you’ve done for Her.

COMING HOME TO YOURSELF🔻💚

remembering your innate goodness – Gold Physician (Hippocrates)

loving yourself as an act of rebellion – Priestess of Clarity

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[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

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revrover · 1 year

Text

The Stranger - Pt. 3

Part One | Part Two

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language, Violence, Depictions of drowning, Fluff

Summary: Delivered to safety following the battle on the beach, you are left reeling as you grapple with nightmares and questions about an uncertain future. But as you come to know more about the Talokanil people and grow closer to their king, Namor is faced with a question of his own -- what does he do with this stranger from the surface?

A/N: It’s heeeeeere!! As always, thank you so much for your patience, for being here, and for reading! And a BIG thank you just for taking the time to engage with and be a part of this story. You all have been so encouraging to me as new writer, and I love being able to create something around characters that so many hold so dear. Comments and reblogs make my heart happy, so please show some love, share the joy, and be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

Bullets fly as bodies hit the ground in front of you. There on the open beach, spears soar high above your head. Your gaze is drawn to the heavens as a chopper falls from the night sky. It crashes onto the shore below, an intense heat flashing against you as you shield your face from the explosion.

Suddenly, the sounds of dying men and burning metal fade as you lower your hand. You look down to find yourself waist-deep in a raging sea, the battle on the sand becoming a distant memory as waves beat harshly against you, unrelenting and unforgiving. A deafening melody accompanies each swell of the tide. It consumes your mind with pain and serenity as you are pulled further out into the ocean’s depths, following its call. The chorus grows louder as the water rises to your chest, building with intensity. Then, suddenly, all is quiet.

And there he is.

Hovering just above the water’s surface, his winged ankles carry him effortlessly. His reflection glistens perfectly against the water, now calm and smooth as glass. Illuminated by the full moon behind him, his body is covered in beautiful armor made of gold, jade, and other metals. A finely crafted serpent headpiece with bright feathers crowns his head, resting just above his brow.

Namor.

Wordlessly, Namor stretches out his hand, beckoning you to come to him. You reach out as if your very being is at his command. But, before you can grasp hold of him, the chorus of voices returns with a vengeance. A violent tide drags you under, swallowing you beneath the waves. Further and further down you are pulled as darkness surrounds you. Looking up toward the fading light, Namor’s silhouette above the surface dissolves from view. Your lungs burn as you begin to drown.

You jolt awake, your body shooting up in a cold sweat.

Chest heaving, your mind desperately claws its way back to reality. You quickly scan your surroundings, clinging to any detail that will anchor your consciousness and keep you from slipping back into that nightmare.

Gripping the stone surface beneath you, you take in every porous curve your fingertips graze over. Looking upward at the high rocky ceiling, you study the patterns of limestone stalactites that hang like icicles. Droplets of water run down a few of them, their melodious drips echoing in small pools below, falling like a gentle, rhythmic rain.

This is the place Namor had spoken of the last time you saw him. The one where he promised you would be safe. And for good reason — here in this cavern, you were well below the ocean’s surface and out of range of any agents who might come searching for you.

By your best guess, you figure you have been down here about two days. It’s hard to be sure without the reference to natural light. The cavern itself is beautiful, though. Illuminated by pockets of glow worms that drape down from the ceiling, their soft luminescence casts gorgeous green and blue hues across each surface their light touches.

As your heart rate begins to even out, you continue to survey the cave. You look over at your belongings, bag laying on the ground, clothes hanging on a line to dry. Your heart drops a bit when you see your little leather-bound book, its pages separated and spread out across the rocks. Ink bleeding. Pages ruined. You had made your best attempt to salvage what you could. Perhaps if you had asked Namora how the two of you would be traveling to this safe haven, you wouldn’t have brought a damn book with you.

The dissonance of the Talokan melody still rings in the back of your mind. You cradle your head between your knees, rubbing your temples with your thumbs when you hear light footsteps approach.

Looking up, you find a familiar face entering the cavern. No longer geared up for battle, Namora dawns a lovely dress that gathers over one shoulder and flows down to the floor. It moves like waves with each step she takes toward you. Instead of a spear in her hand, she now carries a small tray with a medley of food.

“Eat," Namora says, placing the tray on a small end table beside you. She then moves gracefully over to your draped belongings, removing them one by one from the line and folding them into a neat pile.

“Can I ask you a question?” You inquire as you begin to nibble on a piece of food.

Namora shoots a skeptical look over her shoulder but says nothing, so you ask anyway.

“Have you always been a warrior?”

Unresponsive, she keeps her attention on one of your shirts which she has just pulled from the line, tucking it into itself and placing it with the others.

“It's just, I mean the way you fought those agents on the beach, you are — you are very good at, you know—” you should have given more thought to what you were going to say before opening your mouth because as you reach the end of your sentence all that comes out is, “—killing people."

Nice.

You cringe at your comment. It hangs in the air, practically mocking you.

“I’m just saying," you add, trying to recover, "you obviously know what you’re doing. It was impressive. Me on the other hand…” Your voice trails as you raise your bandaged hand, recalling how your first instinct in a fight was to block a fucking knife with your open palm. Next to Namora, your combat skills pale by comparison.

Halting her task, Namora finally turns to face you in one calculated motion. She stares for a moment then her eyes quickly dart toward the side entrance of the cavern where she had come through only minutes ago. The entryway is empty. When her eyes settle back on you, there is resolve in them.

“Up.” She says, walking toward you with purpose.

“What?” You reply in a tone that matches the confused look on your face.

“Up.”

You do as you are told, hastily pushing yourself to your feet. Namora steps in close and then taps your elbows.

“Up.” She orders a third time, only now she seems to be referring specifically to your arms. You follow her instruction, raising them awkwardly out in front of your body. You can almost hear the sigh of hopelessness when Namora, her brow furrowed, grabs your arms and positions each one in a fighting stance. Slipping a hand up to your left wrist, she grips it firmly while tapping your exposed forearm with the palm of her other hand.

“Shield.” She says with emphasis. Her eyebrows raise, looking for any indication that you comprehend what she is trying to explain. When you nod, Namora moves her hand from your wrist up to your fingers, balling them into a fist and tucking your thumb on the outside.

“Weapon.”

Namora then steps back from you, putting her own arms up to mirror your stance.

“Shield, weapon,” she repeats, patting her forearm and waving her closed fist.

“Shield, weapon,” you echo back to her, nodding your head again as you begin to understand more fully.

Just as she begins to step back toward you, a deep voice calls from behind.

“Namora.”

You both look up to see the large man who wears the hammerhead skull standing in the entry of the cavern. Attuma is his name, as you have come to learn. Namora straightens her posture as she turns to face him, her hands behind her back as she squares her shoulders in a commanding stance.

Attuma saunters a few more feet into the cavern, then speaks to her in their native tongue, a language still unfamiliar to you. The two of them converse back and forth for a few moments. You may not know what they are saying, but you can tell they disagree about something — whether with each other or someone else, you are not sure.

Namora swiftly turns back to you, her face serious again and her brows pinched together.

Fighting lessons must be over.

“Come,” she says.

Without any further instruction, she pivots back toward Attuma, who also turns to leave. You quickly grab your belongings which Namora had folded for you, stuffing them into your bag. You sling it around your shoulder as you exit the cavern.

Following the two generals into a tunneled hallway, you find yourself moving through a network of caves, each tunnel connecting to a series of other openings and pools. Soon, Attuma splits off into one of these open caverns, nodding to Namora as he does so. Your eyes trail him as he joins with more Talokan warriors, and just as you stare at them, they stare at you.

You continue walking behind Namora past them, their whispers reverberating through the tunnels.

“When was the last time someone… not Talokanil came here?” You ask. In typical Namora fashion, she remains silent and unresponsive to your question.

“Sorry,” you say apologetically, “back there it just seemed like they hadn’t seen someone new in a while.”

The two of you walk, furthering yourself from the turnoff where Attuma parted ways. Cautiously, you step around the uneven surfaces of the rocky ground. You can feel yourself being led deeper into the maze of caverns. If Namora decided to up and ditch you right now, you are certain you would be lost in this labyrinth forever.

“You are the first,” Namora says rather abruptly, catching you off guard. Not only does her response come well after your question was asked, but it is also the most she has ever said to you at one given time.

“The first?” You ask, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“To come here,” Namora answers. “The first surface dweller to receive Talokan’s aid. The first the king has ever…” she pauses a moment, searching for the right word, “tolerated.”

The influx of her voice is not lost on you.

“And you don’t approve?”

“It is not my place to approve, " Namora clarifies as she leads you around a bend and past several open pools of water. "I am… concerned. When it comes to you, I fear he is blind.”

Silence befalls you both again as you enter another cavern, this one much larger and more spacious than any others you have seen. Within it are several large pools, glistening with light reflected from more glow worms above. Their tendrils hang from the high vaulted ceiling like sparkling chandeliers.

In the center of it all stands a large hut enclosed by beautifully woven fabrics. You follow Namora shoulder to shoulder up the stone-carved steps to it until you nearly reach the side.

“We’re here,” Namora says, coming to a dead stop. She then takes a step back from you.

Still unsure of where “here” is exactly, you glance over your shoulder, looking to her for further instruction or explanation. But Namora gives you nothing. The moment you begin to take a step backward as well, her hand shoots out, holding the back of your shoulder in position with a firm grip.

Ah. Don't move. Got it.

Subconsciously you begin to hold your breath, bracing yourself for the unknown.

Then, there he is.

From around the corner of the hut comes Namor. Immediately you are taken aback by his appearance. Up to this point, you have only seen him suited for battle. Now he stands before you dawning a beautifully woven cape plated with gold and draped across his broad shoulders. His hair is slicked back and his arms are adorned with various metal cuffs. Truly a wardrobe fit for a king.

A single nod of his head and Namora is dismissed. You hear her small footsteps fade as she leaves the two of you alone.

“How is your hand?”

Namor’s question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you raise your hand, glancing at the worn bandage. "It’s fine, thank you.”

Staring at the gauze, you can almost hear the lullaby Namor hummed as he gently tended to your wounded palm the night of the battle. Something flutters inside you as you touch the corner of the fabric. Realizing your mind has drifted again, you bring yourself back to reality by following up with your own question.

"Are we in..." you stop to rephrase, shifting your weight from side to side as you look around the cavern, “Is this… Talokan?"

If it is, it's very different from what you pictured.

Your question brings a smile to Namor’s face.

"No," he answers with a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Talokan is far beyond this place. I assure you, your body would not survive the journey to its depths. But these caverns are safe, I promise you.”

Namor then shifts the topic of conversation.

“I am told some of your belongings were ruined on your traveling here, including your book. I apologize. I had hoped to make up for it.”

With one arm, Namor ushers you around the corner to the entrance of his quarters, inviting you inside.

Intrigued and eager to see what awaits, you accept his invitation. As you enter, you find yourself in a study of sorts. Lit by several lanterns, the room is warm and bright. Within it sits a small table, a prominent desk full of scrolls and artifacts, and a cozy hammock hung in the corner. But what catches your eye most of all are the walls.

All around you hang gorgeous tapestry walls with breathtaking murals that stretch from floor to ceiling.

“Did you do all of these?” You ask in disbelief as you move to one at the far end of the room. Your eyes widen as you gaze in admiration at the beautiful artistry.

“Yes,” Namor answers humbly, following behind you. “I think you will find a more accurate depiction of my history here.”

“I don’t know,” you say with playful skepticism in your voice as you inspect the artwork closer, “always be weary of your authors, right?” You smirk as you shift your glance sideways to Namor, echoing his words back to him in jest. His face is serious at first but quickly turns to amusement.

“You remembered,” he says nodding his head, an impressed grin now stretching at the corners of his mouth, “that is good.”

You return your attention to the paintings. What a gift it is to be standing here in front of them. Full of stories, full of history. And to be accompanied by the man who created them himself — who lived them himself. It is all a far cry from the vague glyphs you tried so hard to decipher in your book.

"They're amazing." You say in awe, following along the panels as you trace the line work delicately with your fingertip.

Immersed in the murals, you are too busy to notice Namor's softening gaze as he watches you study his work so intently. Here you are, an outsider who he has welcomed into his space. It is not like him to be so open, especially not with a stranger from the surface — never someone from the surface — yet, something about you causes a stirring inside of him. Perhaps it is your enthusiasm and wonders for his culture or your refreshing dose of humanity towards his people that compels his desire to be close to you.

As you follow the artwork from panel to panel across the walls, you arrive at a scene that suddenly makes you freeze. Your wrist snaps your finger back as if repelled by the paint itself. In front of you is a large image of Namor dawning a serpent headpiece as he hovers above the water. You are immediately back in your nightmare, your mind flashing to Namor’s outstretched hand then the darkness that closes in around you as you start to drown. You can almost feel the fire in your lungs as they grow desperate for air.

“What troubles you?” Namor asks with genuine traces of concern in his voice. Your sudden silence has not gone unnoticed. He moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, looking up to analyze the same part of the mural.

"Nothing," you lie, shaking your head while your hand drops to your side. You withdraw from the painting, taking a few steps back from it and Namor.

“Your people," you say to change the subject, pointing your thumb to the rest of the artwork in the room, "they honor you. It's admirable, what you've done for them. To keep them safe all this time."

“But?” He senses there is more on your mind.

You stare at him, then turn your focus back to the tapestries surrounding you. Scanning them from wall to wall, you notice a pattern in the stories shown.

“It’s just,” you begin with uncertainty in your voice “for someone who has spent his whole life bringing peace to his people, I wonder how much of it you have experienced for yourself?”

Namor is quiet for a moment.

"And why do you wonder this?" He finally replies, turning to face you fully.

“I guess I look at these and I’m curious… how? How can you do that without completely breaking under the weight of it all? Even with—” you begin gesturing to his body and suddenly become desperate to come up with the right words in time, “superhuman strength.” Thank god.

“Hmmm,” Namor exhales, thoughtfully nodding as his gaze drops to the floor. He folds his arms over his chest, the golden band around his exposed bicep reflecting the light that softly glows from a nearby lantern. Taking a few steps toward you, he lifts his eyes to yours.

“It is true,” he says, “the burden I carry for the sake of my people does not always permit me the personal luxury of peace. It… can be difficult.” His tone shifts from diplomatic to vulnerable. “And who is to say I have not broken under it? It is that brokenness that has made me the leader I am.”

Turning his head toward the mural, he looks at it carefully before speaking again. His chiseled jawline accentuates the exposed veins protruding from his neck.

"To your question,” he continues, “I believe how is never as important as why. Why would someone fight to bring others peace when they themselves cannot have it?” Namor takes another step closer and lifts his hand to your chin, delicately angling your face upward toward his own. "Because we sacrifice to protect what we love.”

His eyes search yours earnestly. After a moment, Namor quickly drops his hand from your chin and you watch as he moves towards his desk, shuffling a few scrolls around before looking back up at you again.

“I love my people,” he says, planting his hand firmly on the desk, “and I have seen evil, what it is capable of. I watch as the rest of the world grows desperate in their greed and ambition, their desire for power. They are becoming more dangerous by the day."

"You mean — surface dwellers?" You ask.

Namor raises his brow at you knowingly.

"Yes,” he answers cooly.

"I'm a surface dweller. Am I...dangerous?"

Namor sighs with a small smile.

“Yes. Though not in the way you may think.”

He moves from out behind his desk and back over in your direction.

“Now I have a question for you,” he says in a low voice, approaching you with a dark look looming over his face. “Please consider your answer carefully.”

The silence is intense. Your heart feels like it is going to jump out of your throat as you anticipate what damning question the king of Talokan has in store for you.

Namor’s expression changes on a dime, and he suddenly asks in a lighthearted tone,

“Are you up for a swim?”

—

You follow Namor out of his quarters and into the large open cavern. As you pass by several beautiful pools of water, you are enchanted by how the light dances across the rich tones of Namor's skin. The same light casts dazzling hues of aquamarine and cerulean across the surface of the pools, reflected onto the rocks surrounding them.

Namor approaches one of the bigger pools and removes the cape from his shoulder, exposing his bare chest underneath. Here is the Namor you recognize - prominent necklace, bare chest, emerald green shorts. Before dropping his cape to the ground, however, he pulls out a Talokan mask from the fabric like the ones Namora and the other warriors wear.

“Take a deep breath,” Namor says as he turns to you. He pushes your hair back from your cheek delicately as he applies the apparatus to your face. Doing as you are told, you inhale deeply as the mask fastens over your nose and mouth.

“Stay close,” he instructs. You nod, and Namor steps to the edge of the closest pool. He looks back at you with a hint of a smile on his face. Then, with all the strength and grace of a god, he dives perfectly into the water and disappears under the surface.

You step closer to the pool. The faint rhythm of droplets falling from the ceiling rings throughout the cavern. You glance behind you toward the entrance, but there isn't a soul in sight. Namora’s words echo through your mind.

When it comes to you, he is blind.

You dive in, following Namor.

Once in the water, you quickly orient yourself. Looking around, you see the outline of Namor, his silhouette waiting for you in the distance. As you swim closer, he gestures for you to follow him. You kick your feet to propel yourself further downward, ears popping as you equalize to the increasing pressure.

You swim until you are clear of the caves. Though your muscles ache, there is something serene about being beneath the water; the quiet, the weightlessness, everything drifting harmoniously in rhythm with the current. For the first time since you can remember, your mind feels still. Free from the chaos. Somehow, the vast open sea does not frighten you with its deep blue void as it did in your dream. Not even a little. Instead, you feel a calmness in your soul as you lose track of time entirely, trailing Namor as you move through the ocean’s depths.

Quite literally in his element, you watch in awe as Namor swims so effortlessly. To him, it must be as easy as breathing. He looks more relaxed than you have seen him. Perhaps even enjoying himself?

You continue to swim, the water getting lighter as the visibility becomes clearer. A school of fish rushes past, their scales glimmering with each flick of a fin or contour of their bodies. Countless numbers weave around you in sync as if part of the same carefully choreographed ballet. You can’t help but smile as you watch them move so freely, and Namor can't help but smile as he watches you.

Suddenly the fish rapidly disperse and within seconds a huge mass flashes past you with incredible speed and agility. Your eyes widen and adrenaline rushes through you as you witness a killer whale chase the school, its size completely dwarfing your mere human frame. Involuntarily, you begin hyperventilating as you watch the giant creature swim off into the distance. When you feel a touch against your arm, you turn to find Namor next to you. His hand rises and falls in front of his torso, gesturing for you to take deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

The two of you remain suspended in the endless ocean blue as you your breath slows and your muscles recover. Namor looks upward, and as you savor the moment of rest you follow his gaze. You can tell by the light above that you are getting close to the surface, which must mean you are nearing your destination. When he nods, you know it is time to move. Slowly the two of you start your ascent and the ocean becomes warmer as you gradually near the top.

When you arise from the water, the sound of the rushing wind, the rolling waves, and birds flying overhead rush into your ears. Less than a hundred meters from you stretches a beautiful coastline covered in soft white sand and lined by rich green foliage.

You make your way towards it. Soon you are walking knee-deep in the waves, the tide splashing against the back of your legs as you near the shore. Removing the mask from your face, the sweet breeze of the island races by, rustling your wet hair and filling your nostrils with the earthy aroma of some nearby palm trees.

Namor has already reached the sand. He stands tall, water still running down his body. Staring out at the horizon, he runs his hand over his face and pushes his hair back, inadvertently flexing his bicep as he does so. The sun slowly begins its descent toward the Earth, its warm rays casting brilliant tones of red and orange across Namor’s exposed skin. It contrasts the deep blues and greens that illuminated him in the caverns, and at this point, you are confident he looks devastatingly beautiful in any light.

As you reach the shore, you take your place next to him and stare out at the skyline.

“Hard to beat a view like that,” you say breathlessly.

“My mother would always describe to me the beauty of the setting sun,” Namor responds. “I have no love for the surface world, but from time to time I visit this island. See what she saw.”

“Is this—?” You begin to ask.

“Where she is buried.” Namor answers before you finish your question. His eyes drop as he reflects, “I am not sure what I expected to see the day I came to lay her body to rest. I suppose the beauty of an island she spoke of so fondly. Instead, I found my brothers and sisters enslaved by men who took life without a second thought.” His jaw clenches as he recalls the bitter memory. “But I saw to it the favor was returned.”

His meaning is clear. You are not sure which makes you more nervous — the calm and cool way he says it, or the menacing smile that accompanies his statement. Either way, his smile disappears as quickly as it comes. You have seen Namor’s ferocity firsthand and know what he is capable of, especially when it comes to protecting his people. A nervous feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as you begin questioning his purpose in bringing you here.

You consider the facts:

You are a surface dweller.

He did call you dangerous.

Oh shit.

Anxiously you glance at him, then redirect your gaze back to the horizon to maintain your composure. The soft waves break along the shore, racing up to your ankles. As the sand beneath your feet gets pulled out by the tide, you wish with all your might you could be pulled away with it. Instead, you sink deeper into the ground, more immovable than before.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words come out blunter than you intend, but you stand by them despite the quiver in your voice.

The question pulls Namor out of his thoughts as he turns to you, eyebrows raised. He studies your face carefully before answering.

“I probably should," he says. There is no malice in his words, only honesty. “The knowledge you have of me and my people... it puts me in a difficult position.” His eyes are solemn. "But I have lived a long time, and in that time I have witnessed many in their final moments before death when one truly reveals themself. That night on the beach, in what you believed were your final moments, you kept your word to me and my people. You said nothing to those men, even with your life on the line. There is no truer test of loyalty.”

Without a word, he reaches his hand out for the mask you still carry. You cautiously hand it over.

"There is a village eastward,” Namor continues, “you will find everything you need there, and the means to leave this place."

You feel his palm slip under your fingers to receive the mask. He takes a deep breath, then purses his lips in the direction behind you.

“Or, just up the way beyond those trees is a house. It is not much, but comfortable. It is yours to use... if you wish. You would be safe here.”

The offer catches you off guard.

“I… I don't understand." You mutter in slight confusion.

With a deep inhale, Namor squints back at the setting sun to collect his thoughts. Then, taking another step closer, he eliminates virtually any remaining space between you. His eyes are deep and mesmerizing as ever. Your heart races from his sudden proximity and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to speak again. He peers down at you, so impossibly close that you can sense the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"You are no enemy of mine," he says with authority, "and no prisoner of Talokan. You have my trust. And because of that trust, I will not order you to stay." Namor then drops the mask into the sand like it is worthless and gently slides his hands underneath your jawline, cradling your face in both of his palms. “But I am asking you to.”

You are speechless. The way he is holding your gaze, the tenderness of his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek, the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"Stay," Namor says fervently in one final clarifying word. It is not a command, but an invitation. Perhaps even a plea. But most importantly, it is a choice. Your choice.

His eyes quickly dart back up to yours as he awaits an answer, but even Namor is not strong enough to keep his attention from dropping back down to your lips. He is clearly focused on more than just the words he hopes to hear come out of them.

In an overwhelming wave of boldness, you allow instinct to take over. No lives at stake, no siren’s song — it is only the burning desire within your very soul for him that compels you. You close your eyes and melt into Namor’s touch, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you do so, it is as if a surge of energy courses through your veins, electrifying your entire body. Namor immediately welcomes your advance, molding his lips to your own. The smooth piece of jade that pierces his septum presses cooly above your lip, contrasting the heat of his skin to ignite your senses. As he slides a hand around to the back of your neck, his fingers curl into your hair to bring you in even closer.

A small moan escapes you as the tip of his tongue traces along your bottom lip. You can feel his smile against your mouth, then a tug at the same lip with his teeth. Another invitation, to which you gladly accept. You part your mouth open to let Namor inside. Both of your tongues dance together as your kisses become deeper and more indulgent.

Consumed by his taste and his touch, you slide your hands up his bare chest, desperate for more of him. Without missing a beat, Namor responds by running his arms down your body and hoisting you up off the sand with ease. You wrap your legs around him tightly and take full advantage of this new, higher angle. Moving your mouth in tandem with his, you savor the richness of his lips and entangling your fingers in his dark locks of hair.

The two of you ebb and flow just like the rolling ocean waves, losing yourselves in each other. It’s not until you feel a faint burning in your lungs that you face the harsh reality of having to break away for air. Everything inside you fights it. If Namor were the sea, you would gladly let yourself drown in this moment.

But Namor, also sensing your need for oxygen, begins to slow down. He lowers you gently to the ground, though he is careful not to let you slip too far away from him. The two of you breathe heavily as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Namor gives you another passionate kiss, this one slow and deep. His lips then move to the corner of your mouth and trail up to your ear, the heat of his breath spreading like wildfire across your skin. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Holding you close, Namor leans his forehead against your temple and presses his lips against your ear.

“Please," he whispers. "Stay with me.”

--------

Tag List! (I think I got everyone who requested to be included!) @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses @jamesbarnesbestgirl @nellycanwrite @namorlover @queenofthekill @uhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmm @cosmic-lavender @fckwritersblock @doimakeyounervous-blog @viktoryn @bontensbabygirl @lokidbadguy @sammi-doll483 @violet-19999 @artaxerxesthegreat @zeeader @star-dusst @hawkins-2000 @madsothree @takeheartyall @slytherheign @agustdboyoongie @nightingal3-tales @psamathegoesrawr @myotakureprieve @spideyworldsposts @ginger-swag-rapunzel @jurneesjourney @kpopgirlbtssvt @commondazy @vicky-8426 @05-redacted @boredoutofmydamnmind @h34rtsformilli @adoiescents @ari-fay @daddyslittlevillain @namorswhore @loversjoy

#namor x reader #namor #namor x you #namor x gen!reader #mcu namor #Namor x y/n #namor imagine #namor fanfic #k'uk'ulkan #namora #attuma #black panther wakanda forever #namor of talokan #k'uk'ulkan of talokan #namor fluff #namor fanfiction #wakanda forever

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Anonymous: Hi! Can I have the R8 women react to finding their S/Os sketch book and not realising what it is, opening it up and seeing various pages of beautiful sketches of them? Just them doing various things like reading or napping or sipping wine. Even them not at their best like after they've eaten someone. Please and thank you!

I love this! Some of these have more of an established relationship between the ladies and Y/N, but some don’t. Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

Alcina had been searching for her missing necklace for what felt like hours when she stumbled upon a small leather-bound book. It was lying innocuously on a table in the library, and she picked it up, intrigued.

As she flipped through the pages, her eyes widened in surprise. The book was filled with sketches of her, drawn in incredible detail and accuracy. There were sketches of her reading, sipping wine, and even napping. Alcina was stunned. Who had drawn these?

She felt a flicker of anger begin to rise within her. How dare someone invade her privacy like this? But, as she continued to look at the sketches, she felt the anger dissipate, replaced instead by a sense of awe.

The sketches were beautiful, capturing her likeness in a way that she had never seen before. Even the sketch of her after she had just… Uhh, disposedof a maiden was done with such skill and finesse that Alcina could not help but admire it.

It was only then that she realized what the book was. It was a sketchbook, a collection of the artist’s work. And the artist had chosen to focus on her, of all people.

Alcina was used to being feared and reviled, but to be immortalized in such a way was a new experience. She closed the sketchbook gently and placed it back on the table.

She would have to find out who the artist was… She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t intrigued and maybe… Smitten. Perhaps she would even commission this artist to do more sketches of her. Alcina smiled to herself, feeling strangely content. Who knew that a sketchbook could bring her so much joy?

Donna:

Donna Beneviento had always been a private person. She valued her solitude and cherished the moments when she could be alone with her thoughts. So when she stumbled upon a small leather-bound book lying on a table in her home, she was intrigued. It had to be yours. (You had only recently moved in with her). She felt guilty for looking, but her curiosity won.

As she opened the book, she was greeted with a series of sketches. At first, Donna was confused. But, as she examined the sketches more closely, she realized that they were all of her.

Donna was taken aback. She had never seen herself depicted in such detail before. The sketches captured her every movement, from the way she held a book, to the way she stirred a pot on the stove. Even her expressions were captured perfectly, from her serene smile while reading to her focused gaze while cooking.

Donna felt a sense of vulnerability wash over her. How had you managed to capture her so perfectly? She felt as though she had been exposed, laid bare for all to see… But… The drawings were done with care and reverence.

Pride began to bloom within Donna’s chest. She had never considered herself particularly noteworthy, but to see herself depicted in such a way made her feel special. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling, but one that she cherished nonetheless.

Miranda:

Miranda is a curious woman, and when she stumbled upon your notebook, she couldn’t resist the temptation to take a look. She didn’t know what to expect, but what she found inside left her speechless.

As she opened the book, she saw various pages of beautiful sketches of herself. The sketches depicted her doing various things like reading, researching, and even sleeping. Each sketch was more beautiful than the last, capturing her essence perfectly.

Miranda couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and joy at the sight of the sketches. She had always known that you were talented, but she had never imagined that you would have the ability to capture her so perfectly on paper.

As she flipped through the pages, she realized that the sketchbook was a sort of diary for you, a way for you to express your feelings and emotions through your art. She felt touched and humbled by the depth of your love for her.

Miranda closed the sketchbook, feeling a newfound appreciation for your talent and a deeper understanding of your feelings for her. She couldn’t wait to see what else you would create in the future and to be the subject of your beautiful art once again.

Bela:

Bela Dimitrescu is a woman of great power and influence, but even she couldn’t deny the childlike flutter of excitement in her chest as she stumbled upon an unknown sketchbook on her shelf. She had been searching for something else entirely in your shared chambers when she noticed the leather-bound book tucked away on a shelf.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Bela pulled the sketchbook down and thumbed through its pages, expecting to see intricate sketches of landscapes or perhaps even fantastical creatures. What she found instead stopped her in her tracks.

Page after page, there were sketches of her. Bela doing mundane things like reading or working on paperwork for her mother. Bela standing in front of a mirror, brushing out her long hair. Bela sleeping peacefully in their shared bed. Each image was rendered with stunning detail, the lines and shading creating a lifelike depiction of her.

Bela felt her cheeks grow warm as she realized the depth of your affection. She had always known you cared for her deeply, but to see it expressed so beautifully and intimately was overwhelming.

For a few moments, Bela simply sat there, taking in the sketches and feeling a newfound appreciation for the one who had created them. Eventually, she closed the book and tucked it back onto the shelf, deciding to ask you about it later.

But in that moment, all Bela could do was smile to herself, feeling deeply loved and appreciated in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

Cassandra:

Cassandra felt a surge of anger as she flipped through the pages of the sketchbook she had found. You had always been secretive about your art, but she had never suspected you were drawing her. She felt embarrassed and exposed, as if you had violated her privacy by capturing her likeness without her permission.

But, as she looked closer at the sketches, she couldn’t deny that they were beautiful. You had captured her in moments of quiet contemplation and fierce determination, as she hunted or slept or simply sat in silence. She saw herself through your eyes, and it was like looking at a different person. Someone strong and graceful and full of life.

Slowly, her anger began to fade, replaced by a strange mix of curiosity and excitement. She is… Your muse and inspiration.

She closed the sketchbook gently, feeling a warmth spreading through her chest. For the first time, she felt truly seen by someone, truly understood. Now she wanted to be your muse. To inspire you in every way she could.

As she walked back to your shared room, she felt a sense of purpose filling her. She would help you create and express the beauty that you saw in the world. And she knew that together you would make something truly amazing.

Daniela:

As Dani walked into your study, she noticed a sketchbook lying on the desk. Curious, she picked it up and began to flip through the pages, not realizing what it was.

As she turned the pages, she saw beautiful sketches of herself. She was depicted reading, laughing, and even sleeping. The sketches were incredibly detailed and showed her in various states of being, capturing her essence in each drawing.

At first, Dani was confused. She didn’t understand why her lover would have a book filled with drawings of her. But as she continued to look at the sketches, she began to feel a warmth in her chest.

She realized that her lover had been secretly capturing her moments of joy and happiness, and it made her heart swell with affection. She felt incredibly touched that you had gone to such great lengths to immortalize her in these beautiful sketches.

Dani felt a tear roll down her cheek as she closed the sketchbook. She felt grateful for the love that she had in her life, and for the beautiful moments that had been captured on paper.

Masterlist

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 months

Text

Wildest dreams, pt. 32 (Paul Lahote)

Summary: Rebuilding their relationship is slow, but worth it. They struggle to find their footing as life goes on, sharing what's on their mind and weighing on their hearts.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, GRAPHIC depictions of death and blood

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

It’s been a few days since Paul promised he’d ask Y/N’s permission to host a birthday dinner. Daisy has texted him at least a dozen times by now, demanding details he cannot provide. Some would say he’s afraid to ask, but that’s not the core issue here. The key to this puzzling silence on his behalf lies in the way Y/N is sitting on his lap, running her soft hands over his as she lathers them in sweet-scented hand cream. A soft smile lingers upon her supple lips and her eyes shyly shift to his curious ones so often he’s barely able to keep his composure. All he wants is to taste her again, to feel her responding to his advances the way she once did – hungrily, unapologetically, wildly, and often. There were days he was concerned about how often she initiated sex…he missed those days. And now when they’re rebuilding intimacy brick by fragile brick, Paul isn’t all too happy about it being put at risk because of Daisy and her inability to give others space.

“You’re staring,” she raises her left eyebrow.

“How can I not?”

Biting his bottom lip, Paul suppresses a smile. Seeing it as a challenge, Y/N cups his cheeks. Brushing the tip of her nose against his, she grins as he releases his tortured bottom lip a shade darker, lightly swollen, and kissable…so incredibly inviting.

“Now who’s staring?” Paul teases as his hands grip her hips.

“How can I not?” She mimics. “You’re incredibly beautiful and you’re mine.”

Unable to resist, Paul’s lips spread in a smile she’d been craving. She can see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. When she lost her sparkle and stopped smiling, his faded as well. It’s truly rewarding to make an effort to get better when it reflects so perfectly in Paul.

“I am.”

“Mine?”

“Incredibly beautiful,” he exclaims, evoking a laugh from her he hasn’t heard in a long time. It’s bright and playful and she’s throwing her head back and he can’t help but laugh with her. Y/N’s laugh is Paul’s serenity and a sign she feels safe with him. Oftentimes Paul caught himself wondering if Y/N trusts he can keep her safe as he once promised her. There’s not a single part of him that trusted himself to be able to do as much, but it would kill him if she doubted him too.

Resting her forehead on his, Y/N lets out a soft exhale, her hands sliding lower until her fingertips rest on his jawline.

“Yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Thank you,” Y/N’s voice is weak, as if her soul trembles for reassurance Paul was certain he’s diligently given time and time again. But if she needs to hear it more often, he’ll give it to her.

“Don’t thank me. Why are you thanking me?”

“For not regretting having me as an imprint.”

“I could never regret you,” Paul takes her face in his hands. Can’t she see she’s his entire world? “Look at me,” Paul orders but she squeezes her eyes shut. “Hey, hey,” he says firmly. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, she does as told. Her lips part slightly in anticipation.

“Every day I get to spend with you is another day I cherish life, love, and destiny. I didn’t believe in that shit!” Chuckling, Paul shakes his head. “Don’t you see? You made me believe in love and destiny and actually speak that into existence! There’s no one else on this planet that I would let hear me being this sappy.”

“It is a little sappy,” she jokes and he chuckles heartily.

“Well, you’re gonna pay for that.”

Raising her eyebrows, she smirks. “And how exactly are you going to make me?”

Pursing his lips, Paul pulls up his legs, his knees coming up right from behind her back enough to push her firmly into his chest.

“Crushing me? That’s your perfect plan?”

Giving her thighs a squeeze, he nods. “In a way.”

Before she had a moment to think, Y/N yelps as she lands on the soft mattress, Paul on top of her. His body weight presses her into the bed, genuinely crushing her to death. So why does it feel so good? Her nightgown moved aside, revealing a part of her right breast and Paul’s licking his lips as he cracked a smile unable to keep his eyes from wandering lower to her chest. He wants nothing more than to possess Y/N again, to feel her writhe beneath him as she comes undone. Lost in his soul’s desire, his mouth comes down hard on hers, claiming them, nearly bruising them. Restraint crumbles beneath the weight of pent-up longing, and his lips mold to hers with an urgency that borders on primal. The kiss, though almost brutal in its intensity, is an act of reclamation, a fervent assertion of belonging.

He loses himself in the warmth of her breath, in the softness of her lips yielding beneath the onslaught of his need. The world outside this stolen embrace ceases to exist. His hands find refuge in the tousled strands of her hair, fingers tangling and releasing in a rhythm dictated by their synchronized heartbeats.

An inkling of common sense washes over him, pushing himself off her instantly. Laying on his back, beside Y/N, Paul covers his face. He allowed himself to lose control long enough to forget about her boundaries, about her wishes. It was a game that turned into so much more far too quickly and he lost himself long enough to act like a predator catching up with the prey.

“I’m sorry,” he swallows thickly, unable to look at her as a cold wave of regret washes up at the shores of his conscience. What started as a game, a dance on the precipice of shared longing he’s allowed to spiral into something he never intended. In this vulnerable moment, Paul grapples not only with the awful breach of invisible boundaries he feels were drawn since their almost wedding, but with the fear of disappointing her, of shattering the trust carefully woven between them.

Y/N doesn’t respond, but the weight on the mattress shifts and then it’s on top of him. Looking at her through his fingers, Paul can’t believe the sight. She’s entirely bare before him, her breasts on display, and her hands are pulling down his boxers faster than he can comprehend.

“What are you doing?” Paul’s voice is laced with curiosity and caution.

“What you’re scared of doing,” she remarks. Her movements are deliberate, determined to bridge the emotional chasm she feels separated them as they finally made some progress.

Grabbing her hands tightly, he sits up with a frown etched upon his forehead. “Stop that and talk to me.” His words sound like a tender echo in the room.

Chuckling dryly, she shakes her head. She meets his gaze unclouded by shame or disappointment. Instead, it holds a quiet reassurance. “That’s the point, Paul. I don’t want to talk, or think, I just want you.” His face is set in a firm, serious expression as she rolls her eyes at him. “I want you inside of me;” she clarifies, as her hands reach for his, intertwining in a gentle grasp.

“If that’s what you want,” he nods.

“Do you?”

“More than you could ever know.”

She pulls him to her, seeking his mouth. He laughs at her grasping hands, teasing her, but there’s no ridicule in his chocolate eyes. There’s only the wish to prolong their pleasure. A sparkle comes alive in her eyes, and Paul knows she will have the last laugh. Her hands move downward. When she finds what she wants, there is no more laughter in his eyes. They are black with passion as he pushes her down beside him.

It isn’t long before their pleasure reaches its high and they’re both released from their sweet torment. Y/N feels drained, her bones weak as Paul moves partially aside, though his leg is still across her calf, his arm across her breasts.

“That was -” Paul begins.

“Long overdue,” she exclaims. “I don’t think we’ve ever done it this quickly!”

“As long as we both finish,” he notes happily.

“How are you so sure I did?”

Paul smirks. “Oh, I know.”

Brushing his hair back, she sighs. “I love you.”

“Even with the beard?”

Giggling, she nods. “Even with the beard!”

“Good, good. Guess I’m going to throw away the shaving cream I bought this morning.”

Pecking his shoulder, Y/N places a hand over Paul’s chest. “Definitely. You’re not shaving until we see how well that beard works for me in other places when we take things more slowly next time.”

His chest quakes under her fingertips as his laughter fills the room. The birthday dinner can certainly wait until morning because there’s nothing in this world worth endangering the sweetness of this moment.

The problem is, the sweetness of that moment repeated often throughout the morning and then it lasted the entire day. Like catching up on lost time, Y/N and Paul spent the next day wrapped up in each other until they physically couldn’t move anymore.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll send out a search party for us,” Y/N snickers as Paul swipes away all the unread messages on his screen.

“If it was urgent, someone would be at the door by now.” Burying his head in her neck, Paul inhales her deeply only to realize she almost entirely smells like him. Playfully biting at her soft skin right above the collarbone, he licks the teeth marks left behind.

“I’m not even gonna say anything,” she snorts before checking her phone as well. “Well, they’re definitely relentless.”

“Mhmm,” Paul murmurs between feather-light kisses he’s leaving across her chest.

“What dinner are they talking about in the group chat?”

Pausing, Paul looks at her through his lashes. “Fuck. I forgot.”

“Well, now that you remember, fill me in.”

“They want a dinner party for your birthday. I promised them I’d ask you, but then –“

“I screwed your brains out?”

“Something like that,” he grins, “wait, that’s exactly what you did.”

Running her fingers through his hair, she sighs contently. “I think I’d be up for a dinner. Nothing glamorous, no gifts necessary. Just a dinner with friends.”

“I don’t think gifts are optional.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she inhales deeply. “Fine. Fine. I can handle some gifts. Just promise me you’ll get me out of there if my social battery runs out.”

Pressing his lips in a thin line, Paul furrows his eyebrows.

“We’re hosting it, aren’t we?” She grimaces with realization.

“I think so.”

Staring at the ceiling, her fingers coil around the ends of Paul’s dark hair. “Tell them it’s a go, but you definitely owe me five more orgasms to be okay with hosting.”

Chuckling, he pecks her chin. “It will be my pleasure.”

When the day came, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by noon. She sent Paul to the store at least five times, constantly finding something new she could make for the pack on her phone to the point he confiscated it.

“Maybe I can make the mac n’cheese?” Paul suggests.

Pausing, with her hand on her hip, Y/N snorts. “Sure. We have time for the fire department to show up for dinner too. Might have to make a little extra. Would be rude not to invite them for dinner when they’re already going to be here.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Paul says nothing as he gives her a pointed look. She looks surprisingly put together considering she spent the day cooking. Most times he’d let the comment made go, but this time he was waiting for an apology, one he hoped she’d realize he’s owed.

Tossing the oven mitts on the table, she sighs. “Pasta isn’t your dish, babe. I love you and your cooking, so if you wanna help, pasta is not on the menu. Butttt a potato salad is and I’d really appreciate it if you made it the same way you did last month because I craved it for a week.”

Huffing, he nods. They had ONE incident with pasta and it’s only because he forgot to put the water in the pot before he lost control and shifted. The look on her face when she realized he was a wolf while smoke was bellowing from the kitchen window had him staying away from the kitchen for months on end.

“Sure,” he releases a tired sigh. Instead of turning it into an argument, Paul decided to just keep quiet. This dinner clearly triggered her in a somewhat different way; where he expected depression and doing it all himself with Emily’s tips and tricks, he received an overly anxious perfectionist who was driving him insane. But it’s her birthday…the first one since she lost her dad. It doesn’t matter how old you are when you lose a parent, especially when it’s the last parent you had, there will be a sadness that clings to your heart for a long time after. He remembers losing his mom, and later his dad, and he wasn’t prepared for either death. To this day, Paul wishes he had more time to spend with them, to ask them why.

Why didn’t his mother tell him she was dying of cancer when she decided to send Paul to live with his father? He could have been there with her in the last months of her life, to have used the time she had left better. That’s a luxury they stole from him…the luxury he didn’t have with his dad at all. The only comfort he has is how quick his father’s death was compared to his mother's. Sudden cardiac death takes moments, not excruciatingly painful months as metastatic breast cancer does.

So, yes. Paul has more understanding than Y/N thinks. The first birthday isn’t easy, especially for someone who has a close relationship with their parent. She hasn’t taken a proper breath the whole day, wasting away precious moments they could have spent together.

When he woke up, Paul found their bed empty. He cannot even try to guess how long she’s been up cooking and cleaning, all of the things he planned to do. He wanted to cook for her, for them all. Paul wanted to make this day as easy as possible for her, but he should have known better. Y/N does everything well, but relaxing is not her strongest suit.

“Jacob said he’s bringing a cake,” Y/N breaks the silence. “Apparently, Alice had seen it in her vision and bought it.”

“That’s nice of her.”

“Yeah,” she turns to face him. “Is it weird we didn’t invite the Cullens? I kind of feel bad for excluding them.”

Licking his lips, Paul shakes his head. “We’re all perfectly happy to be on friendly terms, but I wouldn’t put a family of vampires in the same room with shapeshifters who’re struggling with old urges right now. You did well.”

“Is it really that bad?” Y/N places the spoon on the counter, approaching Paul with genuine worry reflecting in her eyes. “Are you struggling?”

“Every day,” he admits with a tightlipped smile.

“You never told me,” she realizes. “I really need to do better.”

“It’s fine.”

“I wish it was,” she frowns. “What else do you struggle with?”

Glancing at her, he shrugs meekly. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation now.”

“Why?” Swallowing thickly, Y/N leans on her forearms. When Paul remains silent, she bows her head low. “I’m just gonna ask then. Are you still having those nightmares?”

Noticing his hand stop stirring, Y/N’s eyes widen. Paul’s jaw clenches and her lips part. They’re not out of the woods yet. She’s still marked for death. If anything, her father delayed her death for a little while. There’s not a single part of her that doubts she was the intended victim, but her father managed to protect her the only way he could – by sacrificing his own life.

Flashes of his ripped-open throat have her grabbing onto her stomach as nausea forces bile up her throat. Unable to run to the bathroom, it spills past her mouth into the sink and before she has a chance to take her next breath, Paul’s warm hand is splayed between her shoulder blades and the other is holding her hair back.

“Ugh,” she groans. “Throwing up in the sink is so fucked up,” she tries to laugh only to gag as she senses the smell of stomach acid. Paul lets the water run, running a wet hand across her face and neck. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I throw up thinking about it too.”

Looking up at him, she leans into his chest. “You could have said something.”

“Your dad was killed. It’s not a burden I was looking to share when you were already struggling.”

Inhaling sharply, she wraps her arms around him. “I’m strong enough,” she states. “I promise you can stop treating me like I’ll break if we argue or you have something on your mind. I don’t care how bad it is, I’m here for you.”

“Talking about your death isn’t something I like to do,” Paul pulls back lightly, his scowl playing with her heartstrings. He’s been so strong, but when will he let down his armor again? It can’t be good for him to bottle all this up.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“We’re having people over in two hours,” Paul reminds her.

“And we have made like five dishes already. We can order pizza if they eat everything prepared.”

Paul smiles seeing her relax for the first time that day. This is the Y/N he’s been missing. “The beach?”

“Of course!”

As the sun begins its descent beyond the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, they walk along the shoreline, entwined hands swaying gently like the rhythm of the waves as the ocean breeze plays with their hair. Little is said about the darkness they need to share, deciding to table it for another day. This is meant to be a moment for just the two of them – the couple who fell in love against all odds and chose to love each other every day continuously.

“It’s weird how this was meant to be the place we say our vows in,” she muses.

Pulling her closer, Paul closes his eyes. “Would have been beautiful,” the ache of unrealized dreams carries in his voice.

“I was so ready to call you my husband,” she confesses with a teasing smirk, a glimmer of playful light in her eyes.

Biting his lower lip, his eyes reopen, finding solace in the depth of hers. “I was already calling you my wife that day. It felt right.”

Staring at each other as the sun goes down, they smile longingly as if each glance is a rediscovery of love after the tragedy that stained their happiness.

“Let’s get married,” Y/N declares.

“I’d love to,” Paul places his hands on her hips, lightly pulling her in front of him.

“No, I mean would you like to marry me tonight?”

Caught off guard, Paul coughs as he nearly chokes on his saliva. He grabs her shoulders for support before cupping her cheeks, bending his neck to meet her eyes with furrowed brows. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I’m serious! We can have Sam marry us and then just file the paperwork tomorrow. I mean we have the marriage license; it’s not rocket science.”

Paul, running his tongue across his lips, takes a few bewildered steps to the left. Shaking his head in disbelief, he glances at her repeatedly, searching for any sign of it being a joke. But this isn’t a joke, this is real.

“Okay,” he finally utters, the shock evident in his nod.

“Okay?” Sparked by Paul’s unexpected agreement, a giggle bubbles forth from her, carrying genuine happiness. It’s infectious, dancing through the air, infusing the moment with warmth Paul is certain will linger in his memories.

“Yeah! Let’s get married tonight!”

A/N: Unfortunately Tumblr had been making me suffer regarding the tagging, so I hope these tags work, if not I TRIED. I am also aware it has been a while since I updated, so hope this was good enough of an apology.

@notperfect-justme @sucker4seresin @ahoyyharrington @b-tchymoon @squiddaloo @abbiesxox @kellyashcroft @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @konigslilslut @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @convolutings @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling @luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @turningtoclown @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows @marvelmenarebeautiful @bringmethe-world @alitaar @sugasthreedollarkookie @chloe-skywalker @heyheyheyggg @feral-ratatattat-king @fandomrulesall-blog @dcgoddess @lilac-crowns-blog @small-town-wayward-daughter @queenotaku27 @yourqueentp @boreddemigodd @chaosgoblinreblogsthings @felinegrate @lunajay33 @gtfoana @hpboysslut2707 @tpwk-harrystyles @amberpanda99 @let-love-bleeds-red @mo-s-blog @nj01 @myheadsinanotherworld @problematicpastry @witchybabel @llovergirlll @ireadthensuetheauthors @queerrobin @wordacadabra

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #wildest dreams fic #paul lahote series #twilight series #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x imprint

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princessviana · 5 days

Text

Inkbound

Chapter 3

Pairings:

Yandere Taehyung x OC x Yandere Jungkook

Warning: This story is a work of fanfiction and is purely a product of the author's imagination. It does not depict any real-life events or individuals. While some characters may be inspired by real-life idols, their portrayal in this story is fictional and not representative of their true selves. Please note that this story may contain triggering content, including themes of abuse, gore, murder, humiliation, bullying, rape, and other mature and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those under the age of 18. If you are uncomfortable with such content, it is recommended to refrain from reading and kindly disregard this story.

Fae laughed softly, her eyes twinkling as she closed them and savored the warmth and serenity of the water in the bathtub. The scent of rose petals filled the air, and delicate candles flickered, creating a soothing atmosphere.

She allowed herself to relax, momentarily forgetting the strange and unsettling situation she found herself in.

In the midst of her peaceful immersion,

'Noona.'

Fae was startled back to reality upon hearing her brother's voice. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up abruptly in the bathtub, desperately looking around hoping to catch a glimpse of her brother,and this made her got teary in longing to her family.

"Jae," she whispered, her voice laced with both longing and sadness.She couldn't help but cry once more. She yearned for her family, yearned for the familiarity and comfort they provided. In this moment, all she wanted was to escape the clutches of the dark magic or whatever force had transported her into this unpredictable realm.

The sound of a gentle knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

"Young Madam, your friend Gia is here."

Fae turned her attention towards the door, slightly disoriented as she tried to remember the this particular character.

"Gia?" she murmured to herself. The name eventually clicked in her mind.

' Gia was one of Yana's close friends, someone who had always stood up for her, especially during times when someone was bullying Yana, especially those two. Memories of Yana clinging to the two men whom Fae now despised flooded her mind. They were undoubtedly attractive, but their hearts were far from desirable.'

"I'll be there in a minute," Fae replied to the maid's announcement. She stood up, wrapping herself in a fluffy bathrobe, and efficiently dried herself before getting dressed in comfortable clothes.

As Fae descended the stairs slowly, she caught sight of Gia, a character from the book, sitting on the couch. Gia looked up and see her friend that made her rushing towards Fae with open arms. Fae instinctively reciprocated the embrace, enveloping Gia in a warm hug.

"Oh God! I was so worried about you when I heard what happened! You stupid girl!" Gia chastised, playfully smacking Fae's head. Fae winced at the impact, rubbing the spot where Gia had struck her.

"Don't ever do that again! How many times do I have to tell you to stop being infatuated with those two jerks? They won't like you back!" Gia scolded, her voice infused with a caring, motherly tone. Fae chuckled in response.

"Yes, I won't make that mistake again," Fae declared with determination, surprising Gia to the core. This was the first time Fae had spoken with such conviction, and it resonated deeply.

Fae understood the reason behind her response. In the story, Yana would become furious and would throw tantrums when her friends expressed similar sentiments, feeling unsupported.

"Wait...can you repeat what you just said?" Gia requested, seeking confirmation. Fae playfully rolled her eyes before repeating her declaration.

"I said I will no longer be a naive girl running after a man for attention. We girls should not be the ones pursuing men; it should be the other way around...after us."

Fae walked towards the nearby couch, gracefully taking a seat and crossing her legs. Gia joined her on the opposite side, pouring a cup of tea for each of them.

"To the new you?" Gia proposed, raising her cup. Fae accepted the cup, her heart brimming with pride. They both lifted their cups towards the air as a symbolic toast to a fresh start.

"To the new me," Fae echoed before they both took a sip, savoring the warm liquid. They engaged in a conversation, allowing Fae to gather as much information as possible within the confinements of this strange world. She needed these details to plan her next steps effectively.

However, deep within her core, Fae continued to yearn for an escape from this madness. She held onto the hope of breaking free from this realm as soon as possible.

....

Fae woke up as the mansion was bustling, filled with maids and butlers scurrying around, more than she had ever seen before during her time here.

She stood near the elegant staircase, observing the flurry of activity as the staff cleaned and prepared for something she couldn't comprehend.

Curiosity piqued, Fae approached one of the maids who held a white cloth in her arms. The maid immediately bowed, eyes downcast, causing Fae to frown, but she quickly got to the point of her inquiry.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, trying not to startle the timid maid. She had noticed that many of the maids were afraid of her, likely due to her resemblance to Yana, but Fae had come to understand their fear.

The maid glanced up briefly, her eyes wide, before clearing her throat and responding, "Um, young madam, it's Young Master Jeon's birthday tomorrow. As you can see, everyone is busy preparing for the party."

Fae nodded in understanding. "I see," she replied, dismissing the maid with a wave of her hand. Boredom washed over her as she watched everyone diligently work on the party preparations.

"Bored?"

A voice from behind startled her, causing her to turn and glare at the smirking figure before her. She quickly stepped back, keeping her guard up, that made the man frown at her sudden action.

"What is it to you?" Fae retorted fiercely, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms defensively. The man scoffed and took slow steps towards her that made her step back more,intensifying Fae's apprehension.

"Y-yah!" Fae's voice trembled as she looked behind her, only to widen her eyes in fear. The staircase was just a few steps away, and if this man had any ill intentions, she could fall to her demise. The memories of what Yana had done to these people in the past flooded her mind, and she knew this man could be just as ruthless.

"I'm here to warn you, Yana," he whispered ominously, causing Fae to turn back and gaze at him in terror. Thankfully, he stopped walking, but the proximity still made Fae feel like death was closing in.

"Don't you dare pull any tricks on my birthday, understood?" he continued, his eyes now filled with murderous intent as he slammed his hands on the railing. Fae flinched at the sudden aggression, gripping onto his black jacket in sheer desperation to keep her balance.

"I won't even attend tomorrow because Namjoon and I have plans—"

Overwhelmed with distress and desperation to escape, Fae burst out, not considering the consequences of her words.

"What?"

The man stared at her, momentarily speechless.

'She's not going? She's going to ditch my birthday with that man? How dare she—wait, maybe it's for the best—'

"Jungkook—"

Their attention shifted downward as a new voice emerged. Nara stood at the foot of the stairs. Jungkook backed away from Fae as if she were a dangerous object, unknowingly causing her to lose her balance and fall to the ground thankfully not on the staircase. She winced in pain as her knees hit the tiled floor, tears streaming down her face at the painful impact.

Jungkook didn't spare her a glance as he descended the stairs and hastily led Nara away, fearing that Fae, or Yana as they assumed, may hurt Nara again.

Left alone, Fae silently cried, clutching her throbbing knees, feeling the burn of the fall.

Fae wiped away her tears as she gently caressed her aching knees, now bruised and swollen. Lost in her pain, she didn't notice someone crouching beside her until they reached out and lifted her off the floor. Startled, she let out a shriek, her eyes meeting the gaze of the same man who had intervened earlier to prevent her escape two days ago.

She looked down, unable to comprehend why the pain she felt in her knees was causing such deep heartache. Her chest throbbed with an intensity she couldn't understand as she witnessed Jungkook leaving her in pain, not bothering to look back as he rushed away with Nara. Fae didn't love him, but she understood now that the woman whose body she inhabited held strong feelings for him. It frustrated her that she couldn't control the emotions that surged within her in this unfamiliar vessel.

Leaning against the man's broad shoulders, Fae silently cried, but the man remained silent, steering her away to some unknown destination. Anywhere was better than staying in that place,as she can't take the pain anymore.

The man's voice cut through the silence, his words heavy with concern as he gently laid Fae on the bed. Moving to the corner of the room, he retrieved ice cubes from a small fridge, wrapping them in a towel before tending to her bruised knee.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he inquired softly, his gaze fixed on her as she stared down at her injury. Fae nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, it does," she admitted, her eyes reflecting the pain she felt.

"I'm not talking about your knees, I'm talking about what he did," the man's voice lowered, his tone filled with empathy as he knelt before her, applying the cold compress to her bruised skin. Fae's gaze drifted to the window, lost in a swirl of emotions.

"I hate it but can't help but feel it," Fae confessed, her voice tinged with sorrow and resignation. The man's chuckle cut through the somber atmosphere, his understanding evident in the way he comforted her.

Removing the ice pack, he settled beside her, a silent presence in her moment of turmoil. With a heavy sigh,

"I told you before,stop that before it escalate to you being hurt."

he reminded her of his earlier warnings.

Fae's brow furrowed at his words, suddenly her sight blurred and a memory like scene was flooding in her mind in a rush.

"Oppa,why can't you love me!"

A young girl's anguished cry pierced the air as she bursts though the door confronting a boy engrossed in his studies. Tears streaked her cheeks as she poured out her heart, demanding his love. His blank and cold ignorance ,shattered her hopes more, when he doesn't even react.

He sighed finally and looks at her with a blank look as always,

"Yana,we can't."

The boy said coldly that made her cry more.

"But I love you!and you said you love me too!"

She yelled at the boy who just sighed at her.

"Yes,I love you but as a sister."

He declared and looks away from her towards his books again.

Yana shook her head at his declaration and bursts out the door crying heavily at her first heartbreak.

She walks down the slowly through the dim lighted corridor as she whimpered and cries silently

In the shadows, another figure was standing that made Yana stop on her track and looks at the figure before rushing to the person who had now his arms opened wide, inviting her.

She hugs him tightly as she cried in his embrace.

"You should stop, Yana,before it hurts you more in the future."

***

Fae gasped as she sat up suddenly, as the scene before her dissolved into nothingness.

The man stood in front of her, his expression filled with concern as he observed her sudden awakening.

"Are you alright? You suddenly lost consciousness," he inquired, relief evident in his voice.

He reassured her that her father had understood and believed her need for rest, allowing her to take a nap. Fae nodded, feeling her heartbeat gradually calm as she noticed that night had descended upon the world outside. Time seemed to be passing more swiftly than she anticipated.

"Well, I should be going. Thank you, sir," Fae expressed her gratitude, rising from the bed. The man quirked a playful smile and stood up as well.

"Sir? What's with the formalities lately?" he chuckled, shaking his head lightly.

Fae blushed, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Um, you see... I've been experiencing some memory loss after everything that has happened."

As she averted her gaze, the man's eyes softened. "Kim Seokjin... Yana, but you always just call me Jin."

Fae looked up, meeting his gaze. Memories flooded her thoughts and she acknowledged the connection Yana had with Jin.

"Yeah, Jin. Um, I should go then. Goodnight," Fae said, preparing to leave the room.

"Goodnight, Yana," Jin responded, watching her quietly as she stepped out through the door.

....

Fae stumbles through the dimly lit hallway, her steps cautious and filled with apprehension. The oppressive atmosphere weighs heavily on her, suffocating her with its darkness.

As she nears her room, a sudden jolt of terror strikes her. Powerful, rough hands clamp tightly over her mouth, silencing her cries for help. Another hand, large and forceful, wraps around her small waist, pulling her forcefully towards an unknown room.

Fae desperately struggles, her fingers clawing at the assailant's arms, but her efforts prove futile against the strength of her captor.

Finally released, Fae whirls around, hastily putting distance between herself and the man. Fear grips her every fiber, her heart pounding loudly at her chest. But the man advances, closing the gap between them with predatory intent. Every instinct in her screams to flee, to escape the clutches of this menacing figure.

Before Fae can scream for help, a sudden,sharp object grazes her neck, and she freezes, terror pulsing through her veins. She meets the man's gaze, her eyes widening as recognition dawns upon her.

"T-Taehyung?" Fae's voice quivers, her fear palpable in the darkness.

A sinister smile curls at the man's lips, his voice a dark venomous whisper.

"You whore."

The words cut through Fae like razor-sharp blades, causing tears to well up in her eyes. She trembles, unable to comprehend the depths of the darkness that now resides within Taehyung. The cold tip of the blade presses against her neck, drawing a thin line of blood. The metallic scent fills the air, intensifying the nightmare she finds herself in.

"When will you stop, huh?" Taehyung sneers, his voice dripping with malice and contempt.

Confusion and anguish cloud Fae's features, her voice breaking as she questions, "W-what did I do?"

Taehyung's laughter echoes through the room, a chilling sound that sends shivers down Fae's spine. He takes the knife, tracing its sharp edge across her delicate cheeks, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Fae winces, feeling the warm crimson fluid oozing from her once flawless skin. She watches in horror as Taehyung's grin widens, the sadistic pleasure evident on his face, reveling in the sight of her pain and vulnerability.

"I hate it Yana,I hate you,I hate what's happening with you and I hate it even if it's just two days but I hate it so much,I hate it that I miss your presence tailing me everywhere."

Fae's heart pounded in her chest as Taehyung's confession poured forth, his words laced with anger and bitterness.

She whimpered, the weight of his hatred and words crashing down upon her. His sudden change in demeanor sent shockwaves through her, leaving her bewildered and scared.

'This can't be happening,' Fae's thoughts raced. 'He's not supposed to feel this way. Is he losing his mind? Is he mad?!This isn't what I planned.'

Suddenly Taehyung's hands clenched tightly around her neck, cutting off her air supply. She fought desperately to pry his fingers away, gasping for precious breaths.

With a cruel laugh, Taehyung finally released his grip, flinging her to the floor. Fae's body convulsed as she coughed, her lungs desperate for oxygen.

Through tear-filled eyes, Fae watched Taehyung draw nearer, his presence looming over her prone form. He caressed her bruised cheeks, a sinister control in his touch. He held her face with an iron grip, forcing her to meet his enraged gaze.

"What were you doing with Seokjin?" Taehyung's voice dripped with accusation, his glare piercing her soul.

"I-He was just helping me!" Fae responded, her words rushed and desperate, her hand instinctively reaching for his.

Taehyung scoffed, gritting his teeth in anger and... jealousy.

Yes he was jealous,and he doesn't like it even a bit.

He despised this woman, yet the absence of her presence over the past two days had unhinged him. He found himself going mad, yearning for her scent and seeking her out, only to witness her in another man's arms. It ignited a flame of possessiveness and jealousy within him, irrational and consuming.

He hated it.

Suddenly, the realization hit him like a lightning bolt — he missed her. He loathed the way she had followed him incessantly, but the void created by her absence had driven him to the brink of madness. When he finally glimpsed her in another man's embrace, his anger had boiled over, fueled by an unfamiliar jealousy that consumed him from within.

As he learned of Yana seeking solace in Seokjin's room, his anger grew. The scenarios playing out in his mind intensified his fury. Night fell, and the thought of her still with Seokjin tore at his sanity.

Now, in this dark moment, he confronted Fae, unable to rein in his anger any longer. His booming voice reverberated through the room as he accused her of whoring around. Fae flinched, cowering in the corner as she tried to escape his wrath.

Taehyung's glare bore into her, radiating contempt and frustration. With a final venomous glare, he stormed out of the room, leaving Fae trembling and broken in his wake.

He doesn't know what further he can do to that woman if he remained in close proximity to her.

....

Fae's eyes fluttered open, her vision adjusting to the soft glow of a warm light bathing the room. A groan escaped her lips as she tried to sit up, feeling a dull ache resonating throughout her body. Confusion clouded her mind as she surveyed her surroundings, realizing she was on the floor of what appeared to be one of the guest rooms.

A deep frown etched itself on Fae's face as she attempted to remember how she had ended up in this unfamiliar place.

But the memories flooded back with a jolt, and fear coursed through her veins. The man's twisted actions and unpredictable behavior lingered in her mind, and a shiver ran down her spine.

"That man...he's deranged," Fae whispered to herself, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and realization.

As she recalled what happened last night, her heart raced with the intensity of her fright. This wasn't just a strange world she had stumbled into; this was now her reality, and she was living through the haunting nightmares that unfolded before her.

Fae couldn't bear to linger any longer, surrounded by this derange people and danger that seemed to lurk in every corner of this twisted realm. She knew she had to escape, to find a way back to her own life, away from the clutches of the darkness that threatened to consume her.

As Fae slipped out of the room, her eyes darted back and forth, being watchful to her sorrounding, afraid that man would came out of nowhere again and who knows this time he will kill her for good.

....

Fae let out a sigh of relief as she reached her bedroom door, her heart pounding in her chest. With a swift motion, she slammed the door shut and swiftly locked it.

She took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the room. As her gaze landed on the mirror, she couldn't help but be drawn to it, her reflection staring back at her with a mix of uncertainty and vulnerability. Tears welled up in her eyes, a flood of emotions overwhelming her as she took in her disheveled state. The bloodstains on her cheeks served as a painful reminder of the torment she had endured, and the realization hit her with a wave of despair.

Sobs escaped from Fae's trembling lips as tears streamed down her cheeks. The release of emotions brought a bittersweet relief, allowing her to process the trauma she had gone through. She despised the weakness she felt.

With a determined wipe of her tears, Fae scolded herself for wallowing in self-pity. She knew she had to regain her composure and take action.She entered her bathroom, ready to clean herself up and tend to her wounds. The water cascading from the faucet provided a soothing balm, washing away the dirt and scars that marred her skin.

Carefully, she dressed the wound on her neck, doing her best to conceal it from prying eyes.

Donning a jacket that provided some solace and hid her wounds, Fae looks at the window and took a deep breath.

Fae descended the staircase.The mansion was as always is bustling with maids as they get ready for the party tonight.

As she entered the dining room. The aroma of food wafted through the air.

She was grateful for the absence of others at the table.

As she silently ate her breakfast, a tremor ran through her when an abrupt impact shattered the stillness. A fist collided with the glass table, causing her to flinch instinctively. Fae's eyes darted up, only to see Jungkook,in a bad mood.

He pulled a chair infront of her,his mood evidently foul. Without even acknowledging her, he emanated a strong aura of displeasure. Fae hurriedly focused on her food, her heart racing, desperate to escape the intensity of his presence.

Her attempts to go unnoticed did not escape Jungkook's glaring eyes.His glare only intensified, his jaw clenched tightly together. A maid nervously served him the breakfast, aware of his turbulent mood. She knew the consequences of provoking him were dire. When Yana finished eating, she quickly rose from her seat, purposefully avoiding any interaction with the seething man.

This action was the final catalyst for Jungkook. He abruptly stood, anger coursing through his veins like a raging storm. He violently swept his arm across the table, sending dishes and silverware crashing to the floor. The room erupted in gasps of fear as Fae recoiled, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You!" Jungkook's voice thundered, directing his fury towards one of the terrified maids who stood on the brink of tears. The room fell into an expectant silence, awaiting his harsh words.

"Clean this up with your fucking hands, and don't you dare use any cleaning supplies!" he bellowed, his anger reverberating through the air.

Indignation blazed within Fae as she couldn't bear witness to his outbursts any longer. She couldn't control the impulse that overtook her.

"Yah!Jeon Jungkook can you stop with your spoiled tantrums!" Fae yelled, her voice laced with incredulity. However, regret quickly washed over her as she beheld the fire in Jungkook's murderous gaze now focused on her. She gulped, realizing the dangerous predicament she had placed herself in.

Fae screamed in terror,her voice echoed through the dinning room as Jungkook lunged towards her, his grip tightening around her arms, cutting off her desperate pleas for him to let her go.

Tears suddenly streamed down her face uncontrollably, a mixture of fear, pain, and trauma flooding her senses. This twisted and abusive treatment went beyond anything she had ever experienced before, shattering the illusion of safety and love that had surrounded her in her world.

Her cries grew louder as he forcefully dragged her down a dimly lit staircase, the shadows obscuring their path. Panic consumed her as she realized that he was leading her into the depths of darkness, to a place even more terrifying than her imagination could conjure. She sobbed, her voice echoing off the walls of the basement, begging him to release her, to show mercy.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, met with brutality instead. In a moment of cruel force, he struck her with a resounding slap, sending her tumbling to the ground. The pain seared through her, intensifying her fear as she crumpled in a sobbing heap. Desperation gripped every ounce of her being as she surveyed the darkened room, her heart pounding with a primal terror.

Her cries escalated, reaching a crescendo of anguish as she watched a large spider slowly crawling towards her. Its grotesque form instilled a primal fear within her, triggering her deepest phobia. With a surge of terror, she scrambled towards the door, desperate to escape. But her hopes were crushed as Jungkook maliciously locked the door from the outside, leaving her trapped in the suffocating darkness.

Fae's cries turned into desperate pleas, her voice hoarse and filled with sheer desperation. She banged on the door, her pleas echoing through the basement, calling out for anyone to hear and rescue her. Yet, her appeals were met with silence. Her heart sank as the realization set in – she was alone, abandoned in this nightmarish place.

With each passing moment, Fae's strength waned, her tears drying as exhaustion washed over her. Fear still gripped her, but her body could no longer sustain the consuming panic. She slowly slid down to the cold, hard floor, her trembling body succumbing to the overwhelming darkness and the traumatic events that had unfolded. Her eyes now finally shuts,as she finally gets unconscious.

Jungkook's blank face contorted into a sickening grin, reveling in the power he held over Fae.

When it finally gets quiet in the basement he grins wide.

It's really sick in the head to admit but he's feeling euphoria in seeing her reduced to such a helpless state.

He relished the torment, the manipulation of her fears that had consumed him with a dark delight.He really loves to see her in this state.

Helpless.

With a psychopathic laugh, Jungkook slowly descended the stairs, creaking them with each deliberate step. He swung the door open, revealing Fae lying unconscious on the cold basement floor. A sinister gleam danced in his eyes as he observed her vulnerable state, relishing in the control he held over her.

He couldn't help but revel in his madness, fueled by a cocktail of emotions that consumed him. A mixture of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness swirled within him.

First,it was childish to say but he can't help but feel mad when she didn't greet him on his special day. Especially when he grows accustomed to her being the first one to greet him.

Then,how dare she to not attend his birthday party later,just to have a plan with someone,it fueled his anger more, as if she had dismissed his significance entirely.

But what drove him to the brink of insanity was her ditching his Birthday Party celebration with another man, and that too,Kim Namjoon. The jealousy burned deep within him, consuming him like an unquenchable fire.

He despised the notion of someone taking away what he considered his.

It shattered his carefully crafted control, awakening emotions he never thought he would feel.

It was a concoction of jealousy, possessiveness, and an unsettling desire to possess her.

Even with his past encounters and relationships, none had evoked such a visceral reaction within him as Fae's connection with another man.

He had never felt this level of jealousy before, not even with Nara, despite the numerous individuals who harbored feelings for that woman.

This newfound feeling awakened a dark side within him, threatening to consume him entirely.

As Jungkook knelt beside Fae's unconscious form, his eyes locked onto her face. A twisted need swelled within him, a desire to break her and make her his own. Madness danced on the edges of his consciousness, as he reveled in the control he possessed over her, the power to torture her with her fears and terrors.

The basement was engulfed in an eerie silence, broken only by the soft sound of his manic laughter. Madness enveloped him as he assessed the woman, his mind swirling with dark desires and intentions.

Jungkook couldn't explain this newfound possessiveness that gripped him, engulfing his thoughts and fueling his actions. It was as if an unyielding force had taken hold of him, driving him to claim and possess Fae in a way he had never experienced before.

With a heavy sigh, he cradled her unconscious form in his strong, tattooed arms, his steps purposeful as he ascended the stairs. The maids in the corridor looked on, a mix of fear and apprehension radiating from their trembling figures. Their gazes focused on Fae, the young madam who lay limp in Jungkook's grasp.

Pausing for a moment, Jungkook glared at the maids, and this now made them scramble away, afraid that they will be the next to receive his wrath.

...

He slowly pushed open the door to her bedroom, his movements deliberate and controlled. Gently, he placed Fae back onto her bed, his gaze fixated on her unconscious figure.

Standing up straight, Jungkook momentarily stared at her before turning towards the door. He paused, casting a final glance at the room, his presence lingering with a sense of foreboding.

"No way out, Princess," he whispered, a sinister tone lacing his words. With that final declaration, he locked the door from the outside, sealing Fae within her own chambers.

A dark smile curled upon his lips as he walked away, his steps confident and deliberate. Whistling a haunting, melodic tune as he walks away from the room.

#bangtan #bts #bts v #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #love #bts ot7 #possessive #psychopath #obsessed bts #angst #psycho Taehyung #yandere taehyung #jungkook yandere #yandere jungkook #bipolar #yandere x reader #yandere bts #bts yandere

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danceofthefallen-if · 2 years

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DEMO (ETA December) | FAQ

The Dance of the Fallen Deities is a character-driven 18+ work of fiction written using CScript.

Content warnings include: explicit language, depictions of violence and blood, (optional) explicit sexual content, threat of war, potential unhealthy relationships, threats of violence, attempted abduction, mentions of past abuse, instances of classism (including towards mc) and xenophobia (not towards mc). Will be added to as needed.

Everyone has heard the whispers.

Of how the Fallen have come together with the council of Yanha to plot and scheme against the realm of Celea. How their armies are howling the songs of war as their leaders command that divine ichor be spilt.

Everyone except you it seems.

As a minor deity working tirelessly for your Goddess, you don’t have time to listen to baseless gossip.

However, when you come face to face with the four self-proclaimed leaders of the Fallen, you’ll wish you had. Especially when, in their own unique ways, they all seem to have a strange special interest in you.

You have no idea what’s going on, but what you do know is that you really don’t have time for this.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

-> Customise your deities appearance. The Deities personality is semi-set.

-> Choose to play as male, female, nonbinary, agender, or genderfluid with cis and trans options included. Choose your pronouns separately from your gender/sex. Ace and Aro options are also available.

-> Choose the type of Goddess you follow and your abilities: Fate (Precognition), Love (Empath), Animals (Beast Tamer), or Justice (Truth Inducement).

-> Five potential romances to pursue with poly routes included.

-> Help avert a war, save your home, and get your life back. Or join the Fallen and watch Celea crumble.

-> Commiserate with your Blessed Hound.

Aeryn [F]

-> profile

Your goddess diligently follows and upholds Celea’s beliefs, she’s beautiful, hard-working, generous, and goes about her duties in a serene manner. She is seen as the definition of Celeatan perfection and everyone either wants to be her or be bonded to her, with rumours circulating that even the Supreme himself wishes to ask for her hand. Unfortunately for all of them, Aeryn couldn’t be less interested in all of that. Her greatest interest seems to lie with you, her most trusted deity and closest confidant. When she learns of her brother’s intent to take you from her, it’s enough to have her nearly declaring war on Yanha herself.

I know that your life is your own and I have no right to ask this of you, but please…don’t leave me.

Kyan [M]

-> profile

With an affable charm, genial smile, and warm eyes, it’s little wonder that all have been fooled into believing Kyan to still be a kind man, despite his falling. All except you that is. Even when he was a respected member of the Council, you could always see right through his perfected façade to the twisted darkness of his true nature beneath, and yet still stood up to him and sometimes for him, worked with him, and even showed him understanding. You saw him, ugliness and all, and didn’t shun him. Perhaps that’s why he’s so intent on tearing you from his sister’s side and claiming you as his.

Celea. The title of Supreme. You. I’ll take it all.

Niran [Agender]

-> profile

Known by most as a ruthless warrior, Niran has spent a lifetime cultivating a reputation as someone that will cut you down with little to no provocation if you so much as look at them or Kyan wrong. However, you’ve never seen them like that. Before they fell, Niran’s quiet, and usually unnoticed, kindness and protectiveness towards others was something you witnessed on many occasions, and even experienced firsthand once or twice. You were one of the very few to look at them without fear, and that’s something that they’ve never forgotten. It’s something that makes them want to protect you, even from themself.

I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are, so don’t ever stray from my side.

Elex [Gender Selectable]

-> profile

It was easy for the residents of Celea to underestimate Elex, to only see nem as lazy, overly flirtatious, and too easily distracted and remain blind to how nir eyes missed nothing. Ne is, in fact, a highly intelligent individual who can talk nir way in and out of any situation and is now regarded as the highest priority target due to nir strategies alone. Yet, you knew the kind of danger ne presented long ago, and it left Elex reeling when you went to nem for strategic advice. From that moment, you were, and still are, thoroughly under nir skin.

You, starlight, are the definition of a hot mess. Lucky for me, that’s exactly how I like my deities.

Hayle [Gender Selectable]

-> profile

Out of all who fell, Hayle was the most shocking. Xe was sweet, outgoing, and always ready to lend an ear and a healing hand to those who were in need, so it was widely suspected that xe had been abducted rather than gone willingly. However, Hayle proved that rumour to be spectacularly false by personally sending the members of xyr rescue party back in several pieces. A move that even you didn’t see coming. You had been just as drawn in by xem as everyone else and even considered xem a close friend. It makes you no different to anyone else, so xyr interest in you is a mystery to everyone but xem.

You have such pretty eyes. I want them to always be looking at me.

Poly routes: Kyan/Niran/Elex/Hayle | Niran/Hayle | Kyan/Elex

#the dance of the fallen deities if #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if wip #wip if #cog wip

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pyreo · 11 days

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kinda fascinated by falin's characterisation bc I feel like you can see the thought process with it

the driving force of the whole adventure is Save Falin and, although we understand that sympathetically as it's clear Laios and Marcille love her dearly, and it's natural to feel invested in a guilt-ridden brother wanting his little sister to be alive again. It runs into a writing problem

'How do you make the audience care about Falin when they don't know her'. We have all the time in the world to get to know the main cast and love them, but it's tricky to engage people's emotions when they cannot see a character's personality, and Falin dies on page 1

So I think the decision was. To make her as unobtrusive as possible. Without her presence we can conceptualise one trait for her, and it's sheer innocence. There's nothing bad about Falin. She's the sweetest woman ever. She was a healer. She was kind and lovely to everyone. She was great at magic and cast spells with hugs. She's never depicted with her eyes open, making her always look serene and childlike. (And, I think, forcing some distance, reminding you we don't know her, and can't, because she's dead)

Falin is simply just a giving, caring person, loves everyone around her... and that wouldn't work as a character usually, it's too sanded, too smooth, there's no hook. But the hook is she's dead. Felt through her absence. So she gets away with it fine.

I like to think the conscious decision to pitch Falin to the reader was 'she's great and everyone loved her' and you can't disagree because what are you gonna do, speak ill of the dead? The only action we directly see her take is pushing Laios out of the way and getting eaten instead of him. The only thing we know is that she's never done a thing wrong in her life and she was killed, bam. There's no nuance even. She was too pure to die like that, so we have to save her, clearly. And it works.

#dungeon meshi

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nicklloydnow · 7 months

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Judge Holden by Rob Wood (2021)

“The judge is clearly no ordinary mortal, but at times it is suggested that he is more of a god than a demon. Sitting half-naked in front of the fire, the judge is described as a "great pale deity" (92). Later, the judge appears as a statue of some godlike being or idol. His eyes, like a sculpture's, are "empty slots" (147). Sitting on the ground with "his hands rested palm down upon his knees," the judge seems to be engaged in deep meditation 147). Rick Wallach argues that here the judge " incarnates the attributes of an oriental deity." Specifically, "the judge's poses suggest Shiva," whose "visage, like Holden's, is always serene amid the carnage he engenders" (128-29). The men seated around the judge grow wary of this meditative state, "so like an icon was he in his sitting that they grew cautious and spoke with circumspection among themselves as if they would not waken something that had better been left sleeping" (147). The implication is that the men grow fearful in the judge's presence, because they sense something otherworldly and malevolent.

The judge is situated somewhere between the demonic and the godlike, a position that corresponds to the Gnostic view of the god of this world. As Hans Jonas explains, the Gnostics believed that demons known as archons "collectively rule over the world" and "are also creators of the world, except where this role is reserved for their leader, who then has the name of demiurge" and "is often painted with the distorted features of the Old Testament God" (43-44). The human spirit is "a portion of the divine substance from beyond which has fallen into the world; and the archons created man for the express purpose of keeping it captive there" (44). The demiurge and his archons conceal the existence of the divine source, or the alien God, in order to keep human beings imprisoned in the cosmos. Thus Gnostic theology identifies the biblical God, Yahweh, as a demon, responsible not only for the creation of the world but also for the obscuration of divine Reality. By conflating the creator God and the devil into one entity, Gnostic theology creates a new kind of deity, whose simultaneously demonic and godlike characteristics are reflected in the multifaceted enigma that is Judge Holden.

In "Gravers False and True: Blood Meridian as Gnostic Tragedy," Leo Daugherty argues that "gnostic thought is central to Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian" (159) and perceptively identifies the judge as one of the Gnostic archons, or perhaps even the demiurge himself. Daugherty writes that like the "archons, Holden also possesses all the other characteristics of Yahweh as the Gnostics saw him: he is jealous, he is vengeful, he is wrathful, he is powerful and - most centrally - he possesses, and is possessed by, a will" (163). The "Earth is the judge's" (164), writes Daugherty, and, indeed, the judge is described as seeming "much satisfied with the world, as if his counsel had been sought at its creation" (140). Christopher Douglas draws attention to McCarthy's use of "as if," arguing that it "marks the failure of traditional realist language to evoke the larger theological design behind the events of the novel and the impossibility of linguistically imagining the design that McCarthy suspects must lurk behind the amoral nothingness of the world" (13). Thus, far from dismissing the judge's participation in the creation of the world as a hypothetical fantasy, McCarthy's "as if" actually gestures toward the ineffable and unutterable reality of this vision.

Sitting in a saloon, the judge is depicted "among every kind of man, herder and bullwhacker and drover and freighter and miner and hunter and soldier and pedlar and gambler and drifter and drunkard and thief," but though he "sat by them," he remained "alone as if he were some other sort of man entire" (325). Once again, we may apply Douglas's reading to McCarthy's characteristic usage of "as if," identifying it as a linguistic marker pointing to a "larger theological design" rather than a simple exercise in hypothetical rhetoric. Although the judge seems perfectly at home in the crazed, blood-soaked world of Blood Meridian, it is continually suggested that he is somehow not of this world. This is yet another of the judge's paradoxical attributes that can be resolved in the light of Gnostic thought. Gnostic texts often refer to the world as the "inn" in order to emphasize the concept that the pneuma lives in temporary exile from its true home. The archons can be thought of as "the 'fellow-dwellers of the inn' though their relation to it is not that of guests" (Jonas 56). Hence, just as the archons inhabit the realm of the manifest world without being human, the judge walks among men while being no ordinary mortal. Furthermore, the judge's existence is not limited to the so-called Wild West of the 1850s, for he was also "among the dregs of the earth in beggary a thousand years and he was among the scapegrace scions of eastern dynasties" (325). This suggests that the judge cannot be limited by time, place, or social hierarchy; his existence stretches back to distant times, distant lands, and infiltrates all levels of human society, from beggar to king.

Most disturbingly, the judge seems to possess no beginning and no end. In a fit of ether-induced delirium, the kid experiences a revelation regarding the judge's mysterious lack of origins: "Whoever would seek out his history through what unravelling of loins and ledgerbooks must stand at last darkened and dumb at the shore of a void without terminus or origin and whatever science he might bring to bear upon the dusty primal matter blowing down out of the millennia will discover no trace of any ultimate atavistic egg by which to reckon his commencing" (310). The kid's vision reveals that the origin of the judge cannot be uncovered through genealogy, nor scientific enquiry; any attempt to do so will only lead one back to the primordial void, the chaos that precedes the existence of the cosmos in the creation myths of countless traditions. Similarly, the judge has no final destination; in the final paragraph of the novel he is dancing an eternal dance, reminiscent of Shiva's cosmic dance of destruction: "He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die" (335). Ordinary sleep is a minor prelude to the great sleep of death and the immortal judge is eternally wakeful.

Harold Bloom comments on the judge's lack of origins in How to Read and Why, but he curiously argues against a Gnostic interpretation of the passage. Despite the fact that Bloom identifies McCarthy as a Gnostic - "Faulkner is a kind of unknowing Gnostic; West, Pynchon, and McCarthy in their different ways are very knowing indeed" (237) - and is prepared to admit that "McCarthy gives Judge Holden the powers and purposes of the bad angels or demiurges [sic] that the Gnostics called archons," he inexplicably goes on to insist that McCarthy is actually telling "us not to make such an identification," because "any 'system,' including the Gnostic one, will not divide the Judge back into his origins. The ultimate atavistic egg' will not be found" (Modern Critical Views 4). I agree with Bloom's assertion up to a point, namely that the supernatural nature of the judge is such that he surpasses the limitations of the human mind and thus cannot be limited to any one system of thought. Nevertheless, certain aspects of the judge's nature may be illuminated by references to the various spiritual and philosophical traditions that have attempted to address the problem of evil. This is the line of argument adopted by Steven Frye, who argues that the judge's purported lack of origins should not discourage us from interpreting the literary figure in the context of various systems and traditions, including, but not limited to, "Judeo-Christian cosmology and typology, scientific materialism with its often purely atheist implications, the continental philosophy of Friedrich Nietzsche, philosophical nihilism, and the fascinating conceptions of ancient Gnosticism." Frye argues that Judge Holden "is by no means a patchwork creation of competing philosophical configurations, but a distinctive artistic embodiment of darkness that stands apart but nevertheless draws on these various perspectives" (Understanding Cormac McCarthy 79). He adds that "it is perhaps more fruitful to consider that various notions of evil, literary or philosophical, partially illuminate rather than define his nature" (91). I would argue that although Gnosticism is not the definitive system through which one may arrive at an understanding of the judge, it is nevertheless a particularly useful one due to its preoccupation with the evil manifest in creation.

Furthermore, McCarthy subtly alludes to the judge's connection with Gnostic archons in his esoteric subheading to chapter 15, "The Ogdoad" (204). The heading refers to a scene in which the Glanton gang stumbles upon eight decapitated heads arranged in a circle. "The heads were eight in number . . . and they formed a ring all facing outwards. Glanton and the judge circled them and the judge halted and stepped down and pushed over one of the heads with his boot" (220). According to A Dictionary of Gnosticism, the ogdoad (Greek for "group of eight") is the "eighth sphere, above the seven planetary spheres" and "may be considered to be the sphere of the fixed stars, but may also be associated with the home of Sophia [the Gnostic personification of wisdom], or the demiurge, or in simpler cosmologies the home of the true God" (A. Smith 177). According to these "simpler" Gnostic cosmologies, the cosmos is ruled by seven archons, whose kingdoms are hierarchically arranged in concentric circles around the manifest world.In what is known as the "Ascent of the Soul" - a teaching common to both Hermeticism and Gnosticism - the souls of the dead must pass through the hebdomad (Greek for "group of seven"). During this process "all passions and vices are given back to the various spheres from which they were derived in the soul's original descent." Afterward, the "essential man' proceeds to the Ogdoad (Eighth) where he praises the Father with those who are there" (Pearson 279). In other words, the perfected spirit ascends to the "eighth realm," thereby returning to its divine source. By knocking over the eighth head, the judge reduces the ogdoad of the alien God to the hebdomad of the archons. If one considers the ogdoad to be the realm of the alien God, then the judge's action is symbolic of his denying transcendence to those who would seek to escape from the manifest world through spiritual development.

The very title of "the judge" carries connotations of biblical judgement, a concept that strengthens his resemblance to the demiurge and the archons. Harold Bloom writes that Judge Holden "seems to judge the entire earth" and the name Holden "suggests a holding, presumably of sway over all he encounters" (Modern Critical Views 4). The judge seems to be obsessed with bringing every animate and inanimate thing in creation under his jurisdiction. When asked why he shoots and stuffs birds, catches butterflies, presses leaves and plants between the pages of his ledger book, and sketches artifacts - often destroying the originals after their image has been recorded - the judge replies, "Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent" (198). This statement would be absurd if uttered by a mortal man, but chilling if uttered by an archon bent on keeping all things imprisoned in the fetters of manifest existence.

This reading also illuminates the judge's desire to have "the existence of each last entity . . . routed out and made to stand naked before him," so he might be "suzerain of the earth." When asked what a suzerain is, the judge replies, "He is a special kind of keeper," one who "rules even where there are other rulers," because his "authority countermands local judgements" (198). Once again, the judge's emphasis on judgment links him significantly to a Gnostic portrayal of Yahweh. Similarly, his insistence that he be the supreme ruler recalls Yahweh's commandment: "Thou shalt have none other gods before me. . . . Thou shalt not bow down thyself unto them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God" (Deuteronomy 5:7, 9). As the Gnostics were quick to point out, Yahweh is actually unwittingly revealing the existence of another god, "For if there were no other one, of whom would he be jealous?" (qtd. in Pearson 66). Like Yahweh, the judge's insistence on being the sole ruler subtly suggests the existence of other "principalities," "powers," and "rulers of the darkness of this world" (Ephesians 6:12) with which he competes for supremacy.”

Most telling of all, however, are pronouncements the judge makes with his hands placed on the ground: "This is my claim, he said. And yet everywhere upon it are pockets of autonomous life. Autonomous. In order for it to be mine nothing must be permitted to occur upon it save by my dispensation" (199). Robert Jarrett explains that "dispensation . . . is a key term in evangelical Protestant theology, referring to the different covenants regulating the relations between Jehovah and man" (Cormac McCarthy 78). It is by such a "dispensation" that a "terrible covenant" (126) was formed between the mortal Glanton and the sinister, Yahweh-like Holden. Leo Daugherty also links this passage to Yahweh, arguing that "Judge Holden's power is not yet complete, since his will is not yet fulfilled in its passion for total domination" and that "this was also necessarily true of the Gnostic archons, just as it was true of the Old Testament Yahweh" (163). According to Gnostic thought, the demiurge and his archons must exercise their tyrannical rule in order to prevent the trapped fragments of the divine from returning to their source, for if all divine fragments were liberated, there would be nothing left to animate the dead matter of the cosmos. As Kurt Rudolph explains, "the powers which rule the world, the Archons . . . try to impede the [spirit's] return in order to prevent the perfecting of the world of light and thus protract the world process" (172). The archons are powerless in exerting their dominion over those who possess gnosis, or what the judge calls "pockets of autonomous life." Thus the judge knows that he will never be suzerain of the cosmos unless he can keep every living thing imprisoned in the manifest realm.” - Petra Mundik, ‘A Bloody and Barbarous God: The Metaphysics of Cormac McCarthy’ (2016) [p. 35 - 40]

“Satan, avenging angel, albino monstrosity, or hyperrealist of paradise lost, the judge remains the most morbidly captivating character in Blood Meridian. He is reminder alone that the American west was at times a holocaust of Manifest Destiny and white supremacy, the devil's genocidal shibboleths.” - Kenneth Lincoln, ‘Cormac McCarthy: American Canticles’ (2010) [p. 87]

#mccarthy #cormac mccarthy #blood meridian #judge holden #bloody and barbarous god #mundik #petra mundik #gnosticism #harold bloom #metaphysics #shiva #demiurge #archon #satan #devil #kenneth lincoln #canticles #manifest destiny #shibboleth

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minty-mumbles · 1 year

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And the Universe Said I Love You (Ch. 1)

Summary: Late one summer night, a half fairy being hunted for their magical blood stumbled into the temple of the gods and claimed sanctuary. Years later, Hyrule is still living in the temple, working to keep it tidy and operating smoothly. And for some reason, the gods have taken a keen interest in them.

AN: I put a list of all the gods and their domains at the end. This was inspired by this prompt

(Read on AO3 )

~~~

“Hail, great mother of the gods, great mistress of the skies. In all ways, I honor your name. I come bearing offerings, in hopes that you will hear my plea...”

Hyrule hummed a pleasant tune as they listened to the prayers of the young boy, who looked to be only eleven or twelve. The boy was across the room from Hyrule, kneeling in front of a statue of the god he was praying to. He was praying to Sky, the god who ruled over divinity, the sky, sleep, and- most importantly in this case- children, among other things.

From what Hyrule could overhear from where they swept the floor in the back of the room, the boy was praying to Sky for the health of his sick younger brother.

It was very sweet, and it was always nice to see younger children come to worship the gods. Usually, it was only the older folks who came to the temple on days that weren’t specifically designated for worship. Hyrule hoped the Sky would grant the boy a blessing, and aid in his brother’s recovery.

“Hear my prayer, oh mother god, and answer. Amen.” The boy dipped his fingers into the bowl of water that sat at the feet of Sky’s statue, and brought his wet fingers to his forehead, one shoulder, the other shoulder, and then back to his forehead. His movements were clumsy and unpracticed, but they served their purpose to form a triangle to symbolize the mark of the triforce. The gesture was a sign of respect toward the gods, and also signaled that his prayers were finished.

The boy rose to his feet, taking one last look at the serene face of the god. The artist who’d carved the statue had depicted Sky kneeling, hands clasped piously in his lap. His eyes were closed and he had a small smile on his face as if he were two seconds away from nodding off.

As the boy turned and walked out, Hyrule finished up their sweeping, following him out of the mother god’s shrine room.

Hylians called Sky the mother god, and they weren’t entirely wrong. Sky had been the first god and had existed long before all the others. Eventually, he’d grown lonely. He’d been tired of the endless sky and storms surrounding him and had started to wish for companionship.

So Sky had created Four, the god of earth and the forges. Four had been the God who had tended the fires at the beginning. He was the one who had forged the world that Hylians lived in today.

And after that, when Sky had gotten bored of time standing still and become tired of nothing growing or changing, he’d created Time, the god of time and the seasons. Time had started the clock ticking, and it had been his hands that induced the turning of the seasons, fall into winter, winter into spring.

And so it went, for most of the gods. When Sky saw a need, he made a new god. Twice, Sky had instead blessed a mortal with divinity, gifting them with godhood. This was how the god of the ocean, Wind, and the god of hearth and hunting, Wild, had risen to power

No one knew why Sky had chosen to bless mortals to create the gods of the wild and the ocean. Usually, Sky crafted the gods from nothing.

Sky didn’t create life like a Hylian would create life. Hyrule didn’t know exactly how it worked, but they imagined that the knowledge was far beyond their comprehension.

Regardless Hyrule thought it was a stretch to call Sky a mother, but the god didn’t seem to mind it. In fact, most of the gods seemed to find the concept of Sky being their mother rather funny. (Hyrule wouldn’t want to be too presumptuous and ask, however. Just because the gods liked him for some unknown reason didn’t mean that he could ask them about things that likely weren't for mortal ears.)

Sky didn’t seem to mind being referred to with feminine terms, either. Gender was a Hylian concept that gods played with occasionally, but never took very seriously. Even the few statues in the temple that portrayed Sky as a woman didn’t seem to bother the god, even though he usually chose a male form when appearing to Hylians.

Of course, most of the general public didn’t know all this information.

Hyrule was just a bit of a special case.

Hyrule and the boy left Sky’s shrine room, pushing aside the fine white silk draped over the doorway to do so. The boy turned left, towards the temple’s exit. Hyrule turned right, toward Warriors’ shrine room. As they walked, they passed an old man and a young mother with an infant strapped to her chest. Standing near the doorway. The old man, seeing that the boy was done with his prayer, entered the room to do his own business there.

The young mother remained hovering nervously by the doorway, not daring to enter while the old man was inside. It was rude to enter a shrine room when someone else was praying. Whatever business they had with the gods was their own.

Again, Hyrule was a special exception to this. As the temple’s keeper, they had to enter the rooms to clean and take care of offerings, so they were exempt from such etiquette.

As they passed the mother and child, Hyrule could see that the mother was very nervous, and seemed to be holding a package wrapped with brown paper and tied with string. A red feather was tucked under the string.

Ah.

She was a new mother, then, coming with an offering to ask for blessings for her baby and future family.

As much as Hyrule wanted to stop and say hello, try to ease the mother’s nerves, and greet the baby, they had work to do. So instead they simply nodded as they passed her, and continued on.

Warriors’ shrine didn’t have anyone waiting outside of it. Secretly, Hyrule hoped that meant it would be empty. Not because they didn’t want Warriors to have worshippers!

It was just… There had been issues recently with some of Warriors’ worshippers.

Instead of silk covering the doorway making the room more open and inviting like Sky’s was, there was a heavy stone door. It had always reminded Hyrule of the gates to the castle in the middle of the city. The door took some effort to open, but Hyrule managed eventually. They slowly entered the dark room, shutting the door behind them.

Instead of the large skylight, silks draped across the walls, and the delicate offerings like feathers and wood carvings that decorated Sky’s shrine, Warrior’s shrine room was dark and almost gloomy. The air inside was still and felt warmer than it should have. The only source of light was the large stained glass window directly behind Wariror’s statues, and a few flickering torches and candles.

The air smelled like smoke from the torches, but underneath that, there was a metallic tang to the air. Some might argue the scent was from the weapons that hung on the walls, but if anyone asked Hyrule- though no one ever did- they would say that it smelled like blood.

It wasn’t the kind of place Hyrule would usually find comfort in. It was too reminiscent of the dark summer nights they’d spent being hunted for their fae blood. The darkness and the scent of blood reminded them too viscerally of the night they’d ran into this temple for the first time.

It had been a last-ditch attempt to find safety. They had asked for sanctuary from the gods, and Hyrule had fully expected the temple doors to remain barred against them. They’d expected to be slain on the temple steps as the uncaring gods looked on.

Hyrule thanked the gods every day that that didn’t happen. Thanked them for letting the doors open and allowing him inside where the hunter wouldn’t dare follow. The gods had granted Hyrule clemency and even allowed them to stay in the temple permanently.

So even though the dark room brought back unpleasant memories, it had never felt oppressive to Hyrule. In fact, it was quite the opposite. There was a protective feeling in the air that made Hyrule relax, knowing no one would hurt them here.

Hyrule was sure that if they sat down in this room, it wouldn't be long before they started nodding off. They wondered if that was the doing of Warriors xemself, trying to make them feel welcome.

Recently though, Hyrule had started to dread coming in to clean Warriors’ shrine during the day. Worshipers were only allowed into the temple to pray during the day, and that was usually when Hyrule cleaned. Recently they had started to think they should clean Warriors’ shrine after hours.

Warriors usually didn’t get as many visitors as the other gods, as was expected for a god of war and battle. But recently, there had been one worshiper who was coming in much more frequently than Hyrule liked.

Specifically because she didn’t bring any offerings…. Besides herself.

Hyrule exhaled heavily when they saw that said worshiper was indeed in the shrine room. She was kneeling at the base of Warriors’ statue, wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination. She didn’t even look away from the god’s statue when Hyrule entered the room. Hyrule turned away, beginning to sweep the floor with their back to her. She, meanwhile, completely ignored them.

Cia… irritated Hyrule. They couldn’t exactly say why besides the fact that she conducted herself with no shame in the temple.

She was a beautiful woman, perhaps even the most beautiful in the city. At least that’s what people said. Hyrule wouldn’t know. They’d never held any love for physical beauty, anyways.

But Cia knew how beautiful she was. Maybe that was why she was willing to keep offering herself to the god even after it became clear xe was rejecting her.

Perhaps that was what irritated Hyrule. She just kept trying. Over and over, even though she must know it wouldn’t work. Either Cia didn’t understand her offering wasn’t pleasing to Warriors, or she simply didn’t care.

Hyrule didn’t know what Cia wanted so badly, but whatever it was, it was ultimately a fool's errand. No matter what she did, she wasn’t going to tempt Warriors into taking her as xyr wife.

The commonly held belief that the gods would take a mortal bride if the person were beautiful enough was only rooted in the stories of liars.

The myth of how Malanya had risen to godhood probably also played a role. But the truth was that she had never been a mortal.

Malon was beautiful, yes, but she had not been a mortal, even before she had become Time’s wife and the goddess of horses. She had been a wood nymph, already an immortal being. That part of the story was lost to time though, so most mortals thought Malon had been mortal and had managed to catch the eye of the god of time.

Hyrule knew this was false. They also knew that gods usually didn’t often interact directly with mortals. Much less take them as brides.

Hyrule pulled a face when they heard a rather breathy sigh from Cia as she finished her first prayer. In any other situation, Hyrule might have been flustered, but now they were just embarrassed for her. Perhaps they should say something. It would save them the ordeal of having to deal with her, and save her the ordeal of coming to the temple so often on a fruitless endeavor.

When Cia paused in between prayers, gathering herself up to start another one, that was when Hyrule spoke. “You should stop trying to gain the god’s favor like that. Stop trying to give yourself as an offering, I mean.”

The sweet smile that had been on Cia’s face the entire time she had been praying turned into an irritated scowl in the blink of an eye. She shot to her feet, turning away from Warriors’ statue to face Hyrule, who only calmly continued with their sweeping.

She sneered “Why? It’s worked for others before-”

It hadn’t, but Cia continued, not giving Hyrule a chance to correct her. Not that they would have, anyway. “Why do you care so much? You aren’t supposed to interfere with the prayers of people who come to the shrines!”

Again, she was incorrect but had no way of knowing that.

The gods had never taken a mortal to tend to any of their temples before. Usually, they employed the help of wood nymphs and forest spirits. Those types of immortals didn’t like to be seen by mortals. They cleaned the temples and dealt with offerings during the night when no one was around to see them. However, being adverse to being seen by mortals meant that they had no recourse to correct inappropriate behaviors from the worshipers.

Hyrule had no such restrictions.

How Hyrule had gained so much favor from the gods that they had offered them protection and a job at the temple was beyond them. But they’d managed it somehow. So now Hyrule kept the temple clean and took care of the offerings the gods didn’t accept. They gave shelter, healing, and protection to those who sought sanctuary at the temple. Along with all of that, though, they were also here to make sure that the actions of the temple-goers were proper.

Prostrating herself in front of the shrines was not proper. Hyrule felt quite certain that Warriors would only feel relief if xe didn’t have to watch Cia do it anymore. Hyrule certainly would. Cia was no doubt a beautiful woman, but it got embarrassing after a point.

Cia huffed when she got no response from Hyrule- who wasn’t even looking at her- and stalked closer. She stepped close enough that Hyrule had to stop sweeping to avoid smacking her ankles with the broom.

“Or you just don't want the gods’ attention on anyone but you? I bet that's the reason they keep you here. Not good enough to take as a wife, but pretty enough to keep around all the same.”

Hyrule ignored the hurtful words and the implications that came with them. They were more than used to such things being insinuated about them by now.

Most people who heard of the gods taking on a mortal to tend to their temple were confused by it.

Hyrule themself was confused about why it had happened, so they didn’t blame other people for their assumptions. Though it did confuse Hyrule that people thought the gods had chosen them because they thought Hyrule was pretty. Hyrule knew they weren’t considered that attractive, so they didn’t know how that line of thinking held up.

Speaking of…

Hyrule wasn’t phased by Cia’s insult, but they did blink in confusion at Cia’s backhanded compliment. No one had ever called them attractive before, let alone pretty. Usually, people called them unique-looking and left it at that. Their fairy blood influenced their appearance a bit too strongly for most people's tastes. They’d been told that their innumerous golden freckles were particularly unnatural and off-putting.

Regardless of her odd compliment, Hyrule was getting sick of Cia. “No. I’m not trying to keep the gods all to myself. I’m trying to warn you before Warriors’ patience wears out and xe curses you.”

An exaggeration- Hyrule doubted Warriors would curse her- but Cia didn’t need to know that.

Cia puffed up at that, her face flushing. Hyrule was honestly kind of impressed. Even angry and looking like she was two seconds away from hitting them, she still managed to look composed and well put together. “How dare you call a god by their true name! They choose you to sweep the dirt out of their temple, so you think you're special?” She hissed venomously. “You need to learn to respect those who are better than you.”

For some funny reason, Hyrule didn’t think that Cia was talking about the gods anymore. Especially not when she raised her hand in the air, open-palmed and ready to strike them.

Her fingers glittered prettily as she swung her hand down. Hyrule let themself get distracted for a split second by the twinkling of the rings that adorned her fingers. They couldn't help themself. Fairies loved sparkly things.

Their distraction lasted only a moment, though. As her hand swung down to strike them, Hyrule’s hand shot up to meet it, grasping her wrist firmly but not harshly.

Hyrule only sighed, exhausted already. Part of this was their fault. They really needed to start referring to the gods by their proper titles while in public. Most of this situation was entirely Cia’s fault, though.

“Cia, I think you should leave.”

“What? No!” She protested, yanking her hand back away from their grasp. They let her. “How dare you! You can’t kick me out, I have every right to be here.”

“You tried to attack me.” Their protest falls on deaf ears. They see her hand raise once more, and they prepare themself to catch it a second time.

Gods, couldn’t they catch a break?

Perhaps invoking the gods- even in just their head- while also being in one of their shrine rooms was a bit of a mistake. Before Cia could even start to bring her hand down again, her wrist was caught, but this time it wasn’t Hyrule who grabbed her.

Both of them were startled, and Cia spun around to face the newcomer who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

The stranger was difficult to look at. Neither one of them had noticed that Warriors’ statue had started glowing over the course of their argument, but it was indeed glowing. Golden light played along the statue’s features, lighting up the room much better than the stained glass window did. It had become so bright that it was difficult to make out the features of the person who was haloed by the light.

But Hyrule already knew who it was.

It took Cia a few moments, but as her eyes darted from the person’s face- a perfect mimic of the war god’s statue- to the statue itself, and then back again, and Hyrule was sure she had figured it out.

Hyrule was more than accustomed to seeing such a glow, but Cia remained silent and trembling. Hyrule could tell she was terrified. Not that they really blamed her. Warriors could be terrifying when xe wanted to.

When xe spoke, xyr voice rolled through the room like the distant sounds of an approaching thunderstorm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It wouldn’t end well for you if you try to assault one so favored by the gods.” Distantly, Hyrule could feel the deadly pressure building in the room, but it wasn’t meant for them. They knew that Cia could feel it much more directly.

Cia wavered for a moment, before yanking her hand out of Warriors' grip. Xe let her go easily. She ran from the room, looking very frazzled and more than a little afraid.

The figure in front of Hyrule paused for a moment to insure she was really gone, then the light slowly faded away. Soon the figure- looking less godly but still exactly like xyr statue- stood in front of them without an unnatural backlight.

“Hello, Warriors.” Hyrule greeted politely, hoping that the god wouldn’t make a big deal out of the incident. Thankfully, Warriors didn’t seem to think that one mortal was that big of a deal, even if she had tried to hit Hyrule.

Xe smiled, greeting Hyrule, then turned to look at their altar. Cia hadn’t brought anything with her, as per usual, but there were a few offerings from earlier in the day. A small knife with a wooden handle, a gleaming golden apple, and an unfortunate scrap of fabric that looked like it was stained with blood.

An offering like the fabric usually meant that the worshiper had a loved one who was off at war or had died in battle. Someone had been here, praying either for their loved one’s safe return, or for their safe passage to the god of the ocean. Wind was the one who guided souls into the afterlife.

Hyrule couldn’t make heads or tails of the other offerings, but Warriors would know what the worshippers had asked for.

Warriors frowned as xe leaned over the table, fingers fluttering over the offerings. The knife and the scrap of fabric disappeared, while the golden apple remained untouched. That offering had been rejected, and the worshiper’s prayer would not be answered. Hyrule would have to clear the shrine of the rejected offering, but they could do that later. It would be a little rude to take the offering from Warriors’ shrine when xe was standing right there.

When Warriors turned back to them, Hyrule asked, “Are you sure you should be here?”

Warriors waved away their concern. “Relax, It’s getting late and it’s almost time for the temple to close. No one will see us. And if anyone does,” Here, xe paused and grinned, xyr features twisting and warping slightly as xe did so. Xyr formal clothes also melted away, turning into a more normal-looking outfit, although xe did keep the scarf.

Xe was still recognizably Warriors, especially to Hyrule who spent a lot of time around xem and knew xyr appearance. But anyone else who saw the god wouldn’t be able to match xyr features to the statue that loomed behind xem.

It was always disconcerting to Hyrule when they were reminded that their friends didn’t truly look the way Hyrule thought they did, but they brushed it off. Hyrule would never be able to witness the gods’ true forms. Hyrule was mortal. Witnessing the gods’ divinity in its pure form would burn their eyes out, and they would rather avoid that fate.

“See? No one will recognize me.” Xe continued, satisfied. “It’s the same as we usually do, yes?”

“Hmmm, yes,” Hyrule agreed. “Sorry, I was just worried about Cia.”

Warriors snorted in derision but sounded more amused than anything. “You shouldn’t worry about her. It’s not like she can do any true harm.”

Hyrule rolled their eyes. “No true harm except to me,” they complained. “What if she says something? Her family is rich, you know. If she decides she wants retribution for her embarrassment, she can easily come after me.”

Warriors waved off their concern. “I doubt she’ll be back anytime soon, and I doubt she’ll say anything. No one would dare touch you. You're under our protection. We wouldn’t let you tend to our temple if you weren’t.”

This was true enough.

For all that people were baffled that the gods had chosen a mortal to tend to their temples, most people left Hyrule alone. People were fearful of the gods’ wrath if they messed with Hyrule.

Hyrule was glad. They liked living in the peace and quiet of the temple, and they loved not being bothered. It was a stark contrast from the time when Hyrule would constantly be harassed and even hunted because of their obviously fairy features.

But just because Hyrule loved peace and quiet, that didn’t mean they didn’t have room for some chaos in their life, and the gods were more than adept at providing that.

~~~

Hyrule sighed deeply from where they were standing in the doorway of their small room, their hands on their hips.

This room- which more than likely had originally been a storage closet- had been theirs for the past several years. It was small, yes, but it was home. A bed tucked into the corner, a chest to store their clothing sitting at the foot of it, and a small personal shrine was all the furniture in the room.

And currently there was one more addition to the room: a wolf laying in their bed like it belonged there.

“If this is why I keep getting dog hair in my sheets?” Hyrule tries to keep a stern expression on their face as they scold the wolf. Given the way the wolf lifted his head to look at them and then promptly started wagging his tail, Hyrule wasn’t successful.

“Twilight.” Hyrule stresses, which only causes the wolf to roll over on his back and show his tummy. He was doing an excellent imitation of a shit-eating grin as he stared at Hyrule, even though he was currently a wolf and wolves could not grin.

A wolf, and laying in Hyrule’s bed.

If Hyrule wasn’t so acutely familiar with the god, they would be terrified out of their wits. As it was, they were more than used to situations like this. The gods usually took up Hylian forms, but some of them liked to take the forms of animals sometimes. Twilight, as the god of animals, was one of those, and he was particularly fond of canine forms.

Hyrule had gotten more than used to random dogs in the temple.

After another few seconds of silence from Hyrule, the wolf raised his head to look at them. It made no move to get off their bed. Hyrule contemplated him, but eventually decided trying to get Twilight off the bed was too much work. They were tired from the day, and wanted rest.

They flopped down onto the bed and partially on top of the wolf. Twilight chuffed at them, but still made no move to leave. Hyrule took it as a sign Twilight wasn’t actually uncomfortable with Hyrule laying on top of him. They buried their face in his fur, and closed their eyes.

In no time at all, Hyrule was asleep, curled up next to the divine beast.

~~~

“Will you take me to the festival? Please?” Wind’s eyes were big and watery as he begged Hyrule to bring him with them.

It was late autumn, which meant it was time for the harvest festival, when people gathered together to celebrate a successful summer and a bountiful harvest. The past few years- ever since Hyrule had come to stay at the temple actually- had seen particularly generous harvests. This year had only continued the trend.

Once the harvest was finished, the farmers and craftspeople from surrounding towns would gather in the city to sell their wares. They also came to give thanks to the gods at the temple. For some, it was the only time of the year they managed to make it into the city, and the only time they were able to pay respect to the gods.

As the god of the seasons and by extension, the harvest, worship for Time skyrocketed during harvest festivals. Twilight, although he was mainly the god of the night, day, and the moon and sun, was also the god of animals which meant he was worshiped more during this time as well.

So the temple was busy at this time of year. Time and Twilight got plenty of attention, but the other gods got their fair share as well. Because of the influx of worshipers, Hyrule always has more work than usual to do. That meant they hadn’t had much time to enjoy the festival itself in the last few years. It always felt like a waste to go galavanting off to have fun when they had a job to do.

This year though, the gods seemed to think that Hyrule was overworking themself. Legend had visited last night, needling Hyrule until they begrudgingly agreed to take a break from their duties. He had even slipped a small purse of rupees into Hyrule’s hands. They had tried to return the purse, but Legend had glared at them into submission.

Hyrule had to admit that there was little chance that anything would go wrong in their absence. The temple had always run smoothly without a mortal attendant before Hyrule had arrived, even during festivals. It would survive without them for a few hours.

That was why Hyrule was preparing to go to the festival now. They had no doubt that Legend had sent Wind to insure Hyrule was actually taking a break and annoy them into doing so if it were necessary.

“Uh, are you sure going into the city is the best idea?” Hyrule asked the young god. Not that Hyrule was opposed to Wind’s company! The young god could be strange at times, like all the gods, but he was still fun to be around. It was just… Well, most of the gods weren’t the best at pretending to be mortals.

Wind seemed to understand exactly what Hyrule was getting at, and he scoffed. “Oh, please! I used to be mortal before I was a god, you know. I’m a lot better at blending in than the others are. You don’t have to worry about me.”

When he saw that Hyrule was still reluctant but had started to soften their resolve, Wind grabbed their hand. He looked up at them with big watery eyes and went for the kill. “Please?” His voice was softer now as he pleaded. ”I kinda miss it. Festivals like this remind me of my mortal family. And the other gods don't want me wandering around without supervision,” An irritated look flickered over Wind’s face, “Which is dumb because I’m literally a god. I can handle myself!”

And yep, Hyrule couldn’t say no to that face. It just wasn’t possible. (They also didn’t want to start the argument that, yes, Wind was a god and could take care of himself, but most of the time he looked like a thirteen year old. That put a target on his back, especially when he was wandering alone. It was better to let the older gods try and convince Wind of that. It wasn’t really Hyrule’s place.)

“Fine,” Hyrule allowed. They continued before Wind could celebrate too much. “If you do anything weird, I’m telling Time. No stealing either.” That caused Wind to deflate a little, but he still looked more than pleased with being allowed to tag along.

Hyrule turned away to get themself ready. They pulled on their cloak to hide their features and not draw attention to themself, and grabbed a basket to carry their purchases. Meanwhile, Wind sat nearby, swinging their legs back and forth absently.

After ensuring that their money pouch was tied securely to their belt, they turned to Wind. “Okay,” Hyrule said. “I’m all set. Are you ready to go?”

“Yep!” Wind replied, hopping down from his chair.

As he did so, he changed.

His form shifted and warped until instead of a blonde teenage boy in front of them, it was a young girl- probably eight or nine- with curly chocolate brown hair that fell untamed down their back. Bright green eyes shone up at Hyrule from under their curly bangs. They even had a smattering of golden freckles across their nose. In short, they looked like a spitting image of Hyrule themself, when they had been younger.

Wind skipped forward, grabbing Hyrule’s hand. He looked like a perfect example of innocence. “There! We look like sisters! Now no one will look twice at us.” Wind sounded proud of himself for the disguise.

Hyrule felt their breath stutter involuntarily, feeling like they’d just been punched in the chest. All of Hyrule’s sisters in real life had been immortal, having taken after their fairy mother. Hyrule had been the only one who’d taken after their mortal father.

Was this what it would have looked like if they had a little sister? If they had had some small piece of their family they could have clung to? All of Hyrule’s sisters had stayed with their mother when Hyrule had to set out from home. Hyrule’s eyes started to mist over as they looked into Wind’s big green eyes. Was this what it would have been like if they had a little sister they could’ve held onto during those long lonely nights?

Wind looked regretful when he saw Hyrule was close to crying. “If you want, I can turn back!” He exclaims worriedly, tugging on where he was hanging on to Hyrule’s hand.

“No,” Hyrule denied. “You’re fine. You don’t have to turn back.” Their voice sounded a little fragile. Wind didn't protest. He didn’t try to herd Hyrule towards the temple’s door either, letting Hyrule continue to hold him. Hyrule also didn’t try to get the two of them moving, despite the fact they were losing daylight.

The two of them stayed where they were for a while, standing together. Wind continued to hold onto Hyrule’s hand and lean into their legs. Hyrule hesitantly put their free hand into Wind’s hair. When Wind didn’t protest, they ran their fingers through Wind’s curls gently.

Hyrule eventually sniffled, shifting away from Wind. “Alright. I guess we should head out if we want to get to the market before it gets too busy.”

No one glanced twice at the pair of them as they walked down the steps of the temple and into the market square, which set Hyrule’s heart at ease. They must really look like siblings.

Although it wasn’t even noon, the market was already decently busy, and Hyrule knew it would only get busier as the day wore on. Most of the square was taken up by stalls, some of which were already open to serve the early morning crowd. One small section was taken up by vendors selling hot food made to order, and one corner of the square was dominated by festival games.

Wind didn’t seem to have any preference on where to go, although he made some not-so-subtle hints about visiting the confectioner’s stall at some point. Hyrule decided it would be best to visit the stalls first, before it got too crowded, and they could go find something to eat later in the morning.

It was nice to just blend into the crowd and browse what goods were on sale. No one looked twice at the two of them, and even if they had wanted to, the crowd ensured anyone who caught sight of the pair's golden freckles and took issue with it would quickly lose sight of the two of them.

The pair passed by a leather worker’s stall with only a cursory glance. Hyrule didn’t need any leather goods today. And if they did need to buy something, they could buy it at a lower price at a later date. Merchants always upped the price of their goods at festival time. With demand being so high, Hyrule couldn’t blame them, but some things just weren’t worth it.

The next stall they passed smelled heavenly, and Hyrule didn’t use that word lightly. The temple was nearly always filled with the scent of incense and flowers, so Hyrule was more than used to smelling good. At this point, the scent of incense had seeped into their clothing and hung around Hyrule even when they left the temple.

But the smell from this stall gave them pause anyway. It was a warm scent, like spiced cider on a cold winter evening. It was nothing like the incense that burned inside the temple.

The stall was selling bottles of shampoo and conditioner, bars of soap, and even some bottles of perfume. Hyrule paused at the stall, eyeing the soap bars consideringly. The bar Hyrule was currently using was getting kind of small, so they did need to buy a new one sometime soon.

It was festival time, after all. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little on a new one. And whatever scent they were smelling was worth splurging a little on.

It didn’t take long for Hyrule to flag down the merchant and get their hands on one of the bars of soap. It took a bit of haggling to get the price down to a more reasonable level. The merchant wrapped the soap up in paper, thanking them for their purchase. Hyrule smiled at him, turned around to find Wind so they could move on, and their smile slid off their face

When they turned around, Wind was nowhere to be seen. Hyrule choked down their initial panic. Just because Wind was no longer clinging to them didn’t mean the god had somehow managed to get himself into trouble in the five minutes Hyrule was distracted. Not that Wind wasn’t capable of finding trouble in that amount of time, but hopefully he hadn’t.

Hyrule almost missed the small blue-clad figure as their eyes skimmed over the crowd. They did a double take when they spotted Wind- still in the form of a young child- making very rude gestures that a child as young as Wind appeared to be should not know.

Hyrule choked, hurrying over to Wind. They caught his hands in theirs and yanked them down. “What are you doing? Are you trying to cause a scene?” Hyrule hissed quietly at Wind, who seemed completely unapologetic. Hyrule turned to try and see who Wind had been flipping off.

But when they turned around, they saw no one Wind could have been gesturing at. There was a throng of people surrounding them, but none of them were paying any attention to Wind.

Looking back at Wind, Hyrule saw he wasn’t even looking at any of the people in the crowd around them, but glaring upwards. Following his gaze, they saw a little red bird, probably a cardinal, perched on top of a nearby noticeboard.

Hyrule blinked in confusion, looking back down at Wind. They almost opened their mouth to ask why Wind was flipping off a bird, but then their head whipped back around to stare at the creature.

It was a red bird, it was staring at Wind and Hyrule in particular, and it was a bird that Wind seemed to be intimately familiar with.

With those facts in mind, Hyrule squeezed Wind’s hand and tugged him away in the direction of the rest of the stalls. Their lips were pressed tightly together to keep themself from laughing.

“You know,” Hyrule started casually after a moment of silent walking, “You probably shouldn’t be flipping off the god of divinity himself.” They didn’t worry about anyone overhearing them. The crowd was thick, and a stranger’s odd conversation wouldn’t draw any attention. Even if it did draw attention, they were moving through the crowd and would be gone before anyone tried to listen in.

Wind pouted, stomping his feet a little. He looked exactly like a grumpy little kid throwing a tantrum, and Hyrule had to suppress another laugh. “That’s not even Sky! It’s just his stupid messenger bird.”

Hyrule hummed understandingly, and pulled them to a stop so they could inspect a display containing a rainbow of different yarns and threads. Their spare tunic had gotten a hole in it, and Hyrule was out of thread. They should buy some more. “I thought you liked Crimson? I’ve met her and she seems nice.”

Wind grew quiet, almost sulking. “It’s not that I don’t like her- especially not when she’s in a smaller form like that. Her bigger forms kind of freak me out, it's not natural- But Legend asked me to come to the festival with you-”

I knew it, Hyrule thought, locating some shades of green thread that were pretty similar to his tunic color. The tunic that had a hole in it was the same shade as the one they were wearing now, so they used it to compare colors.

Wind kept talking. “-And it feels like Sky won’t even trust me with this one thing! I can take care of you! I don’t need my own babysitter!”

“Hey now,” Hyrule protested. “I don’t need a babysitter either. I’d be just fine on my own.”

Wind huffed. “It’s not the same. You’re so fragile. I’m a literal-”

Hyrule’s heart skipped a beat in dread, and they acted quickly. Before Wind could continue, Hyrule shoved the two spools of thread they’d been contemplating into Wind’s face and asked, “Which shade of green do you think matches my tunic the best?”

Wind shot him a nasty look for the interruption, but Hyrule only lifted an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. Wind rolled his eyes and pointed to the one on the left.

”Careful what you say.” Hyrule whispered warningly. People might not listen in on the conversation of others here, but that wasn’t any reason for Wind to go around declaring to all and sundry that he was a god.

“Whatever.” Wind said, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean. You’re not even two decades old yet. You’re young.” Wind stressed his last word, and Hyrule tried not to feel a little insulted. What Wind was saying was true, from his point of view. Hyrule wasn’t even twenty yet, although at nineteen, they were close. To a god such as Wind, who’d lived for millennia, they would be incredibly young.

Instead, Hyrule only said, “You’re young too, you know.” They waved over the merchant and paid for their thread, tucking it into their basket with the soap.

“I’m not even the youngest!” Wind protested hotly as they moved away from the stall. He was flushed in anger that, frankly, just looked adorable in his current form. If this was how Hyrule looked when they were angry when they were hung, they don’t know how their mother ever took them seriously. “Wild and Wars are both younger than me!”

Hyrule lets the conversation trail off after that, as Wind starts telling stories about how adorable Wild and Wars had been as new gods, back when they were unsure of themselves and unused to their powers. Wind was right- he’d been made into a god before Sky had needed to create Warriors, and long before Wild had even been born a mortal.

Hyrule didn’t know exactly why Wind was considered to be the youngest of the gods. The way gods aged was strange though, sometimes not even following a linear pattern. It was further complicated by the fact that they could appear to be whatever age they wanted to be.

Hyrule thinks they might have heard Warriors mention that Wind was the youngest because he had still been a child when he’d been turned into a god. He hadn’t had the chance to grow normally. Hyrule could understand that dying and becoming a god might stunt that sort of development.

Wind had to grow up as a god, which took a lot longer. Sky had created the other gods in the form of teenagers, and Wild had at least been of age when he’d been given godhood.

So while Wind might have been alive longer than Warriors and Wild, he was still mentally the youngest, and treated as such by mortals and gods alike.

Hyrule was pulled out of their thoughts by tugging on their hand, which slowly led them away from the direction they’d been walking. Wind was steering the two of them slowly but surely over towards the confectioner’s stall.

Hyrule snorted when they realized what he was doing, and dragged Wind back on course. In his current form, there was no way Wind could overpower Hyrule, so he resorted to pouting at them. Hyrule chuckle at that.

“Come on. We have to at least get lunch first before we have dessert.”

The pair wandered the festival until they found a nice stall that was selling meat pies. Hyrule paid, despite Wind’s protests. “What are people going to think when they see me making my little sister pay for her own food?” Hyrule said. Wind opened his mouth to protest but shut it again, seemingly not having a response to that.

If Hyrule’s money pouch somehow suddenly felt as heavy as it had before they paid for the food, they said nothing. They had told Wind not to steal, but they didn’t think reverse pickpocketing Hyrule themself counted. Hyrule would just have to pay Wind back somehow. Maybe a nice offering tonight in the temple after the crowds left.

The two of them ate as they walked and people watched. This time, when Wind subtly tried to steer their direction to the sweets stall, Hyrule let him.

The stall was already being browsed by a family with three young children when they reach it, and Wind and Hyrule join them in looking at the selection. Wind only had eyes for the honey candy, but Hyrule took a bit more time sorting through what was available. Being part fairy, they had more of a sweet tooth than most, and they couldn’t help but spend more of Legend’s rupees on candy than they’d intended.

They managed to buy a small package of sea salt taffy without Wind noticing. They hid it beneath the package of soap in their basket. Tonight, they could place it on Wind’s altar to repay the god for the food Wind had refused to let them pay for. Honey candies flavored with blueberry syrup joined the taffy, to be tucked away for a rainy day. To munch on now, Hyrule ends up buying a bag of chocolate-coated nuts.

The chocolate was sweet on their tongue as they and Wind wander through the rest of the fair. It's well past noon by now, and things were starting to get busy. People throng tightly around them. Hyrule would feel crowded, but every time they started to feel anxious, Wind squeezed their hand tightly, as if he could sense their turmoil.

He probably could.

The reminder of the protection the god offered soothed Hyrule a great deal, and they managed to push away their anxieties.

Eventually, the two end up wandering around the second of the market set aside for

There’s a dunk tank set up nearby. Wind pays for three tries to hit the target. He doesn’t succeed, and that alone told Hyrule that he wasn’t really trying. But his gleeful giggles make Hyrule’s heart squeeze, and they smile at the god’s joy. It’s more than infectious.

They don’t see any games they're interested in paying themself. Most of these games Hyrule can guarantee are rigged, and the prizes usually aren’t of interest to them.

That was until something sparkled in the sun out of the corner of their eyes.

It was a small necklace. A small blue stone was set in the center of it, glittering attractively in the sunlight. Silver filigree filled with green-tinted glass created tiny wings surrounding the stone, mimicking fairies wings.

That. Hyrule wanted that. They know it was their fairy blood that made them want it so badly. (The irony of the necklace being in the shape of a fairy was not lost on them.) Everyone knew that fairies were attracted to shiny objects. Even half-fae like Hyrule were affected by that particular biological quirk.

The necklace hung on a peg inside one of the many game booths, a prize for one of the shooting games where you were given a small bow and three arrows, and targets popped up that you had to attempt to hit.

Hyrule didn’t even wear jewelry, most of the time. But the necklace sparkled so prettily in the sunlight they couldn’t take their eyes off it. They tried to caution themself. The game was probably rigged, and they're not that great a marksman anyways.

But Hyrule wanted that sparkly necklace, and by the gods, they were going to try to get it.

It took them three tries before they finally gave up. They eyed the necklace with longing, but their purse was starting to feel a little bit too light for their liking, and Wind was starting to look impatient.

The man running the stall offered the bow back to Hyrule for them to try again, but they gave a polite smile and shook their head.

A sudden voice coming from behind them made them startle. Wind remained nonplussed. “Here, let me try.” The voice was familiar, and Hyrule was both surprised and not to turn around and see Four standing behind them. They are a bit surprised to see Time, though. The god wasn’t really the kind of person that liked festivals.

But on the other hand, this festival was dedicated to Time. If there was a festival dedicated to Hyrule, they’d want to go out and see it, even if they didn’t like crowds. So maybe it shouldn't be a surprise to see the older god out and about.

He looked much less stressed than the last time Hyrule saw him. The harvest was over, and Time could return to his usual duties until next year. Hyrule was glad. Time always seemed like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders during harvest season.

The game master was more than happy to take Four’s rupees. Only once the man disappeared behind the back of the booth to operate the targets did Four turn to Hyrule with a wink.

As Hyrule expected, Four was able to hit a target on their first try. Wind rolled his eyes. “Show off,” he complained but didn’t look all that bothered. Time, who seemed unimpressed and uninterested in watching Four demonstrate their archery skills, clapped Hyrule on the back with a nod, and then wandered off in the direction of the Temple.

“That’s hardly showing off.” Four insisted. Suddenly, their eyes flickered, a deep blue color flooding their irises. Their hair color shifted ever-so-slightly to become more of a strawberry blonde than true golden as it’d been before, and Hyrule swore the god was an inch or two shorter than they were before.

Hyrule twitched, but after spending a certain amount of time around the god of the four elemental spirits, you start to get used to sudden appearance changes. This time the change wasn’t even as dramatic as it usually was. Four had kept the change rather subtle compared to what they usually did when one of the elemental spirits decided to surface.

Four’s eyes had gained a competitive glint. “This is showing off.” Their next arrow not only hit the same target they had struck before, but it split the previous arrow they’d landed on that target. The last arrow once again landed on the same target, splitting the second arrow.

Four turned to Wind with a smirk. “How about that, then?”

Wind rolled his eyes. “Anyone could do that.” Hyrule resisted telling him that not everyone could do that. Not everyone was an immortal god who had eons to hone their skills.

When the game master returned from behind the curtain, his mouth dropped open at the sight of the perfect bullseye and the two split arrows.

“O- oh,” He stammered, eyeing Four- who still had a slightly dangerously competitive gleam in their eye- warily. “That’s very impressive, kid. Well, I suppose you can choose any prize you like.”

Four turned to Hyrule, waving an offering hand. Hyrule, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, gestured towards the necklace.

The gamemaster, still looking a bit baffled, shook his head in disbelief, but pulled down the necklace from where it hung on its peg, and handed it over to Hyrule. They wasted no time clipping it around their neck. They grinned stupidly at the necklace, flicking it back and forth across their chest to make the light dance along the glass of the wings.

When they looked back up, Four had already vanished. Maybe literally, or perhaps they’d simply wandered away in the crowd. Wind, inpatient, wasted no time in dragging Hyrule away from the still gawking game master.

Later that night, after giving an offering to both Wind and Four’s shrines, Hyrule lay curled up in his bed. Maybe it hadn’t been a waste to go to the festival after all.

~~~

The temple of the gods that Hyrule served was located in Castle Town, the capital city of Hyrule. Castle Town was notoriously hard to invade. As far as Hyrule knew, no one who tried to lay siege on the city had ever been successful.

The Great Sea lay to the east of the city, allowing the city to get supplies during a siege. Sprawling docks and beaches made up the eastern side of the city. Under the tutelage of the ocean god, Hyruleans had become masters of the sea, both above and below the waves, in the case of the Zora (Worship for Wind was, unsurprisingly, more popular in that part of the city.)

To the south the land became more arid, the landscape past the city slowly shifting from forest to a large desert. It was impossible to traverse unless you knew the right routes to travel and had the correct supplies. Invading countries who tried to cross the desert had to carry their own supplies and bring enough water for a whole army. They very rarely made it very far.

Out west, a mountainous landscape gave shelter from potential invaders. Death mountain oozed lava across the southern half of the mountain range. The lava and heat made it impossible to cross to everyone except the Gorons.

In short, Castle Town was an impenetrable fortress of a city. It offered safety to those who lived there. The citizens of Hyrule were more than used to the natural barriers that offered them protection and knew how to harness them. They knew the dangers and how to minimize them.

That was, besides the Lost Woods. The Lost Woods was kind to no one who carried pure mortal blood, Hyrulean or not. The nymphs and other forest spirits that lived there didn’t like to be seen by mortals.

Those who entered the woods brought with them thick fog that confused their senses. The Skullkids would dance through the mist, giggling and disorienting the mortals. If they were lucky, mortals would stumble out a few days later, exhausted and starving but ultimately fine. Those who weren’t so lucky never came out at all, remaining in the woods forever, becoming a wandering lost soul.

Those who’d survived the woods told tales of it being a dark and haunted place, unwelcoming and horrifying.

To Hyrule, the woods were home. They were technically mortal, yes, but their fairy blood gave them a bit of a pass. They might not have inherited their mother’s immortality or fairy form, but they had still been born in these woods. The forest recognized them as one of its own, even if they were mortal. To Hyrule, the forest was never hostile. The nymphs and spirits were shy but didn’t hide away from Hyrule as they did from other mortals. The Skullchildren left them alone besides trying to goad them into an occasional game of hide and seek.

Hyrule’s mother’s fairy fountain lay safe, deep within the trees. She still resided there with their immortal sisters. Hyrule visited sometimes, but the visits were almost always brief and strained. The chasm that had been created when their mother realized Hyrule was mortal had only grown since Hyrule had left the safety of the fountain to strike out on their own.

But even if they could never truly go back to how it was when they were a child, the forest still welcomed them with open arms, magic reaching out and twinging around them. They had grown up here, and the forest knew that.

Their ability to enter the forest made them popular with the apothecaries in Castle Town. Usually, the doctors and potion brewers who wanted to harvest magical plants had to creep along the outer edges of the forest to do so, all while remaining cautious of the ever-present fog.

If the mist started to creep in too much or the whispers of the skullkids became too loud, they knew they’d wandered too far in. It was a delicate balance between getting the plants they need, and not becoming trapped

Hyrule’s fairy blood allowed them to freely pass through the woods and collect as many of the needed plants as they wanted, and they were more than happy to do so, and sell them to the apothecary shops. For a price, of course. This was how they got most of their money. Their jobs at the temple were paid in room, board, and protection from the gods.

That was what they were doing today. It was a sunny day, but the sun’s warmth was cut by a brisk wind that blew between the trees. It was getting a little late in the afternoon, but they still had plenty of time before they had to start heading back.

Hyrule shivered and drew their cloak tighter around them to block out the chill. They were crouched at the base of a gnarled old apple tree, picking a few stems off of a cluster of warm safflina. They were careful not to take too much of it, leaving enough of the blooms for the plant to thrive. They had to be cautious not to over-harvest if they wanted the safflina to continue to flourish in this part of the forest. They tucked the safflina into their foraging pouch, standing up to move on to find another plant.

A sudden rustling from the tree above made them startle slightly, but they dismissed it as a bird or squirrel, or maybe even a curious skullkid. They hadn’t even taken two steps before they were proven wrong. A louder rustle this time followed by a gloopy-sounding thud sounding from behind them, and they whirled around to see what had fallen from the tree.

It was an electric chuchu, glowing a sickly yellow in the shadow of the trees. The creature gurgled for a moment, bugling green eyes locked onto Hyrule. Instinctively, Hyrule took a few stumbling steps backwards to get out of its immediate shock range.

If it had been a regular chu, Hyrule would have probably dealt with it themself. Chuchus, as a general rule, weren't that dangerous. Anyone with a knife could deal with them, as long as they were quick enough to avoid getting trapped in their acidic ooze.

Electric chuchus, on the other hand, were much more dangerous to the average Hylian. Their shocks were the real danger, making them able to paralyze their victims. Those who got caught by the electricity remained conscious but unable to move. By the time the chuchu’s victims regained movement in their limbs, they were usually halfway dissolved and well on their way to becoming the slime’s dinner.

Hyrule shuddered. The forest might love them, but there were still dangers in the woods, who didn’t care if Hyrule had fairy blood in them or not. Personally, they thought that was one of the worst ways to go. Forced to watch in terror as you were sucked into a chuchu’s slime, but unable to so much as scream for help.

It was somewhat easier to deal with electric chuchus if you had a ranged weapon like a spear or bow. Unfortunately, all Hyrule had brought with them was a small metal knife. Even if they managed to land a hit on the chuchu, the electricity coursing through the metal would cause them to drop their weapon, which would be the last thing they wanted.

Hyrule turned to run, a bolt of pure fear shooting through them. Chuchus were slow, but when they were close to their prey they could put on terrifying bursts of speed. And for eclectic chuchus, those bursts of speed came with waves of paralyzing electricity coursing through the ground. They could hear the gurgling sound of the chuchu getting ready to spring them before they had made it more than a few steps.

Hyrule eyes squeezed shut. Was this how they were going to die? Alone out in the forest, destined to become a skeleton stripped clean by a chuchu’s acid. Hysterically, they thought that at least their remains would be returned to nature when they died, and not burned like Hylians tended to do with their dead.

Just as the sizzling behind them grew to a crescendo and Hyrule was expecting to get hit with a wave of electricity, there was another sound of rustling above them.

Another chuchu in the trees? Oh gods, no-

But what followed wasn’t the wet sound of another chuchu landing on the floor. There was a whoosh of something falling from the tree, a loud pained gurgle, and then silence. When they had run a good distance away, and no electricity overcame them, Hyule slowed down cautiously, taking a quick look behind them.

It hadn't, in fact, been another chuchu. It had been Wild.

Hyrule slowed to a complete stop, staring in shock at the god. He was crouched in the middle of the remains of the chuchu. His back was to Hyrule, so they couldn't see what Wild was doing, but that long blonde hair and scarred ear peeking out of it was unmistakable.

A sword- still dripping with sparking goo- was slung on his back. The blade seemed unaffected by the acid, leaving it as clean as ever when it dripped off. Hyrule didn’t have to ask to know who forged that blade. No mortal smith could have made a blade like that. At least not without the blessing of the god of forges.

Hyrule pressed a hand to their chest, feeling their racing heart. They let out a slow and steady breath as they tried to calm themself. Their legs felt weak. They offered a silent but honest prayer to Wild for the protection given to them.

That seemed to catch Wild’s attention from whatever they were doing with the chuchu jelly. He looked up, sending a mischievous smile at Hyrule. “No need to thank me. It wasn’t a big deal, it was just a chuchu.”

“Well, still,” Hyrule protested, walking back over towards the god. “I’m pretty sure you just saved my life. So thank you.”

Wild didn’t respond to that. His attention had wandered away, as it often did. He seemed distracted by something up in the tree above, pulling himself upward by a low-hanging branch. Hyrule left him to it. Worrying over the wild god never got anyone anywhere. He would do what he wanted to, and it's not like falling out of the tree would actually hurt him.

Hyrule took a seat below the tree. They were more than rattled by their encounter with the chuchu, and not willing to wander too far away from Wild just yet. They would wait until WIld came back down again.

After a few moments of Wild moving about in the leaves, he called down to Hyrule, His voice sounded slightly wistful. “I wish your fairy blood had won out over your mortal parentage.”

Hyrule blinked at the seeming non sequitur but didn’t bother about it too much. Wild was scatterbrained on the best of days. One could never know how a conversation with him would go. If you wanted to keep up with him, you had to be ready to change topics at a moment's notice.

When Wild saw Hyrule had stopped to sit, he dropped out of the tree. When he landed, he was crouched on all fours like a lithe cat. For a moment, Hyrule swore Wild’s eyes glowed a bright teal as he looked up at them.

Then they blinked and the moment was gone. Wild flopped dramatically over Hyrule’s lap, handing them an apple he had picked from the tree. Hyrule, more than used to Wild’s lack of respect for the concept of personal space, simply hummed.

“I would’ve liked to have your company when I go out hunting,” Wild admitted. “You’re fun to hang out with. A lot more fun than some of the old nymphs can be. They’re always complaining about Hylians encroaching on their territory. It’s not like I can actually do anything about it, though! Forest spirits already have the Lost Woods, I can’t claim any more land in their name.”

It was commonly said among the gods that Hyrule should have been born a fairy, not a mortal. Hyrule couldn’t bring themself to be offended by it. They couldn't even say they disagreed, necessarily. They especially couldn’t disagree with what Wild had said. Being a part of the Wild Hunt sounded fun.

They didn’t often get to hang out with Wild. He was the god that Hyrule saw the least of. He was somewhat willing to enter the city, and therefore didn’t come to visit the temple often.

Maybe they could convince Wild to let them join the Hunt, just for a few hours. They probably wouldn't be able to keep up, not without the wings that true immortal fairies were blessed with, but it would be enjoyable all the same.

For now though, they could settle for relaxing under the tree with Wild, happily munching on the apples he had picked.

~~~

The Pantheon:

Sky: God of the sky, divinity, sleep, and children (The first god, Mother of the gods)

Four: (They/Them) God of the four elemental spirits, and the forge. (They created the world out of the endless cloudy void Sky had been living in. The void is now the realm of the gods, the world is now the realm of the mortals)

Time: God of time, the seasons, the harvest/farming (He began the turning of the seasons)

Twilight: God of the night/day, animals, and the sun/moon/stars (He created the stars, planets, moon, and sun, and helped populate the world with animals)

Legend: God of myths, adventure, and music (He worked together with Twilight to create mortals. He also helped create the constellations)

Wind: God of the ocean and the dead (He helped deal with the overpopulation of mortals. Psychopomp. Started out as a mortal)

Warriors: (Xe/Xem/Xyr) God of war, strategy, and battle, (Also a psychopomp, but only to the effect that xe delivers souls of those who die in battle to Wind. “Battle” is very widely defined. Lots of things can be battles Ie: childbirth, battle with sickness)

Wild: God of the hearth, hunting, and the wilds (He moderates how much Hyians encroach on nature. Started out as a mortal)

Malon: Minor god of horses. Used to be a forest nymph before marrying Time

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