Following the request of Anon here...
Apologies. Due to a technical glitch, I couldn't answer this request directly. I already reported my problem to Tumblr
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⸸ Devotion ⸸
(A Yandere AU of Lobotomy Corporation where the Manager thought he could save the facility by sacrificing the Twelfth Apostle, but Bean Boi did the Reverse Uno card on him. OOC and fanon to be expected because I am not going to bother writing his dialogue into Elizabethan English.)
Characters: WhiteNight (Lobotomy Corporation), Gender Neutral Love Interest (refers to themself as the 'Agent', while WN them 'Twelfth Apostle' or 'Heretic'), the Manager/Ayin (only in mentioning, referred to as 'the Shepherd' by WN)
Warning/Dead Dove - Do Not Eat/Mature Audiences Only: physical abuse, slight violence/terror, mature/dark themes (read the contains list)
Contains: unhealthy established relationship, controlling behavior, WhiteNight has an overwhelming fear of betrayal, victim-blaming, mentioned suicide attempt (as per the canon Heretic), mild angst,
Word Count: 1200+
Description: He no longer remembered how many Apostles he had loved, had lost, nor how long ago he had come to this facility. Years? Centuries? Millennia? Many times throughout, he had tried to save them. All of them. For every cycle, a new clock was built with the names of the new Apostles.
"Dear."
Voice as soft as the white feathers of his wings rang clear throughout the containment unit.
"I still remember our vows from last week. How you promised that you would forever love me. That I, and I alone, would be the only one to receive your faith and devotion. Really, it feels like you just told me those yesterday."
The holy entity spoke so dreamily as he paced around the room. Behind him, the hem of his long, white robes flowed so smoothly like water over the concrete floor. To the human observer, it would seem unnatural how graceful his body was. Every flutter of his lashes, his wings, his posture, and even the way he held his chin up so regally felt otherworldly.
Every action was performed so beautifully. Anyone that sees him might as well be looking at an oil painting come to life.
But that beautiful portrait changed into something disconcerting—something sinister—when his eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that foreshadowed the massacre that will ensue from his 'Salvation'.
What a bloody contrast against his angelic face.
His Twelfth Apostle was kneeling on the floor before him, eyes gouged out, and their skin a deathly shade of white.
"But what about you?" he asked, tilting his head their way. The Heretic squirmed slightly as they 'saw' his gaze turn toward them. "Do you remember?"
WhiteNight had expected this to happen. It always did with the Twelfth Apostles. The first one betrayed him for a pouch of silver coins that the men of Caesar promised. The second had abandoned him for some lesser creature they called the new 'God', and as for the third...well.
He just stopped keeping track by that point.
He knew from the very beginning what would become of a union like this. They were the tenth, the hundredth—no, thousandth Twelfth Apostle he blessed.
This human wasn't any different, but like a fool, he willingly blinded himself because he 'loved' them.
"It was in a different facility, I believe. One of the ones at the Upper Layer? I was still donning the façade of what you called a ZAYIN. But now, you are uncertain of what I am, aren't you? Not even your precious Shepherd seem to understand what I am."
The human's fearful gaze answered his question. By now, they should be realizing the true scale of his power. Did they really believe that healing was the only miracle he could create?
"What is with that look? I don't plan on harming anyone, child. Do you not believe me?"
He walked toward them, only stopping to get down on one knee to see his beloved apostle eye-to-eye. His pale hand reached for those loose strands of hair. He had always affectionately tucked behind their ears before. So, why now did something like this make them flinch?
He could only stare, dumbstruck, at the human leaning away from his touch, before the room darkened.
The lights dimmed, flickered as purple mist begun to overtake the room.
That was his last straw.
Dropping all pretenses of gentleness, the Abnormality violently snatched their chin, forcing them to face him when they tried to back away. They grasped at his arm, his chest, his waist. Their now mutated nails were scratching and digging too deeply into the soft flesh of his mortal body.
Of course, it was futile.
Mortal he may look in this form, a single flesh wound would never be enough to kill him. If it were, then the first betrayal should have been his last.
"I really did have faith in you," he said, voice as dark as his eyes. "Even though you were the last of the Apostles...even though you took the longest to understand my mission—" ...I truly did hope that we would one day see the world the same way.
He spoke in a tone most might believe as composed, but deep down, he was anything but. There was a tempest swirling about within him, feelings so powerful that even he was surprised by how much they were affecting him.
For a being who thought himself higher than the vermin he ought to 'save', it was distasteful how much he was acting like them.
It was his fault, really.
In the first place, he should have lowered his standards and expectations.
He was the fool for wanting to believe in a fantasy. That somehow, this little mortal would be able to break the cycle of trust and betrayal the first Twelfth Apostle had begun.
It was all so foolish that he wanted to laugh at himself. How could they possibly achieve something as grandiose as that when they couldn't even leave the time loop their precious Shepherd had trapped them in?
The Abnormality's hands hovered down their neck before wrapping tightly around their throat. Given their condition, the Apostle couldn't even cry. Without eyes, all their tears just pooled at the back of their socket.
How befitting for a heretic, he mused.
"Shh. Hush now." The gentleness of his voice was a great contrast to the cruelty his hands were displaying.
As he wanted, the Heretic shut their mouth into a thin line, fear taking over the pain. He could still hear them hicking and sobbing, but at least they were trying to contain themselves.
In the past, seeing them flinch even just a little from his touch was enough to make his heart crack. If that version of himself saw his beloved human falling apart like this, he would be heartbroken.
But this version of him felt nothing.
The only reason he could even tell they were weeping was through the choked ugly sobs coming out of their lips, and the snot streaming down their nose. It was such an ugly sight that it made the corner of his lips curl up in disdain.
"Weren't you already planning to hang yourself? What difference would my hand make?" WhiteNight asked in mock jester. "Do you detest me so much that you would rather off yourself than die under my cause?"
Without warning, he suddenly released them, making them ungracefully collapse onto the concrete floor. As they laid there, panting and gasping for air, they would flinch ever so slightly whenever their fingers grazed over the bruising circles on their neck.
Still, he felt nothing.
"To be honest, I predicted that you would one day turn away from me for some con."
He couldn't help but frown slightly at the last word. Just thinking about the false messiah with the crown of thorns made him sick.
"You humans had always been so fickle. Something like this can no longer surprise me. Yet...here we are. Even though I knew this was inevitable...even though I knew I could never truly call you mine...I—"
He stopped midway, forcing the words that wanted to come out of his mouth into silence.
It was unlike him to be this flustered. He should be eloquent, composed, just, as befitting of someone with divine power. He should never be acting this pitiful.
The Agent, as if noticing the sudden plummeting of his mood, looked up, only to notice something flicker behind his eyes. But before they could so much as decipher it, the atmosphere of the room changed.
No longer did it hold the malicious intent of an Abnormality, nor the purple mist from earlier.
It was all just red now.
"If you ever betray me again, heed the words of your Shepherd over mine...I don't know if I'll be able to show mercy."
~~~ End ~~~
This was requested such a long time ago...oh my. I hope it isn't too late. (My sincerest apologies, Anon... ;-; )
As you can probably tell, 'save' is just a euphemism for 'exterminate'. In my fanon, WhiteNight (much like Blue Star) considers genocide a solution. Humanity is already heading towards its own destruction, so wouldn't it be more merciful to end it all before all their sins become unforgivable?
(I am no expert when it comes to abusive relationships or cults. It would be better for you to be informed about these from reliable sources.)
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Silmarillion concept that has me gnawing on the bars of my enclosure today: all of Elrond's parents are terrifying eldritch beings actually.
Maedhros, with white fire pouring from his eyes, taken from the jaws of death anything but unchanged. Some whisper that he's not elvish anymore, not since his captivity. They can never quite agree on what that makes him, exactly.
Maglor, with a voice no elf ever should've had, beautiful and terrible and powerful enough to shake the mountains. Sailors along Middle-Earth's west coast whisper of a sea wraith, some horrible siren that roams the beaches on the darkest nights.
Earendil, a man made an elf, a star, a maia if some are to be believed. Slayer of dragons, guardian of the void. Someone who's spent so along around the Silmaril and the Ainur that some of that power lives within him now.
Elwing, a skin-changer with a voice and a laugh that sound like they were taken from a bird's throat. A witch who lives in a lighthouse, where the animals flock and the plants grow strangely. None of the Amanyar would admit to being scared of her, but few will venture in sight of her odd little realm.
And then there's Elrond, ring-bearer, Lord of Rivendell, kind as a summer.
Well, let's just say it probably helps that no one is expecting him to be normal. Or elvish. Or entirely comprehensible.
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Unexpectedly normal
John Constantine falling in love with an Eldritch creature wasn't the weirdest thing he'd ever loved. After his dates with King Shark and some demons, this was among his most normal romances!
Phantom seemed like a creature of darkness and ice but he was the opposite: attentive, kind and loving; things that generally shouldn't be combined with Constantine (given his usual tendency to blow his chance with anyone who treated him well), but something made him stick with him.
Sure, the Justice League Dark judged him every time they saw him but he couldn't care less. When Phantom nervously told him he had something he wanted to show him, John was prepared for anything: a cult, a corpse, some crime he'd have to feign ignorance of (he didn't mind helping with a crime or two).
He hadn't expected Phantom to decide to show him his "true form" (Unexpectedly his boyfriend looked human, usually the opposite happened to him!), and sheepishly admitted that the first time he came to the dimension his powers had gotten out of control, leaving him in a form he used very little. And fuck, his boyfriend was hot as hell.
Constantine remembered when they met, he remembered the cult summoning "the most powerful creature in existence", he remembered the dread he felt when he saw Phantom appearing in all his Eldritch glory, but most of all, he remembered his disbelief when the creature started scolding the cultists as if they were children.
Phantom admitted his name was Danny (Danny Phantom, he just forgot to mention it), and he didn't know how to tell him, he looked so nervous that John couldn't help but joke with him.
"Are you human? These are things you talk about in time, bloody hell" Constantine pretended to be offended, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket "you know damn well I don't date normal humans sweetheart."
Danny looked confused, but understood what was going on in a matter of seconds.
"Lucky for you I'm not a normal human" Danny joked, taking the cigarette from his hands "I'm half ghost, a walking physical impossibility, is that enough for your dating standards?"
John pretended to think before shrugging and kissing him; sure, he'd have to get used to the lack of darkness, and extra organs (though he was sure he could persuade Danny to switch between forms), but as far as he was concerned, this was just a win-win.
Danny wondered if he should have started with Phantom's form first but he had no desire to give the hellblazer more ideas. He was aware of his partner's odd tastes, so he was actually nervous that he would reject him for being human (which was definitely a big difference from Amity), but as John kissed him just as intensely as always he guessed there was nothing to worry about.
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